A Night Like No Other

This post is the first of a four-part series leading up to the inauguration.

It is a night like no other, this night of November 4, 2008. Hundreds of thousands of diverse individuals in Chicago’s Grant Park, and millions in living rooms from Maine to Florida to Hawaii and Alaska know change is on its way. Barack Obama has just been elected to the presidency, and Americans eagerly await his words, a speech that will undoubtedly raise our expectations even higher. Families in each of our fifty states anticipate a message of hope that will bond them with thousands of excited, giddy supporters who pack themselves into every square inch of the park.

Obama and his family – wife Michelle and daughters Sasha and Malia –are carried hand-in-hand across the stage by the resounding music of John Williams and the jubilant cheers of the throngs before them. At the appropriate moment, after waving and smiling more than ever before in their lives, Michelle and the girls exit. Obama remains alone, standing at the podium, where his presence immediately takes on presidential proportions.

He is confidant his words will resonate with America, just as they have over the two years of campaigning. This will not be, however, just another stump speech. His words will certainly maintain their message for change, yet on this night like no other, Obama also needs to strike a grave tone, one of seriousness and purpose. As he readies himself at the podium, he knows his opponent is no longer Republican John McCain. Obama is all too aware the opponents he faces now are the many crises that strangle our nation, including the American mood that has fallen precipitously.

Obama begins with a greeting that immediately connects with the millions watching him:

Hello Chicago! If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer…

In only a few lines, he parries his naysayers and unites all of us dreamers who stood with him for a better America.

So as to sweep aside any notion of egocentric ambition, Obama announces:

“I will never forget who this victory truly belongs to - it belongs to you… “

And then, as if he were in my own home, he reaches out his hand:

[This victory] was built by working men and women who dug into what little savings they had to give five dollars and ten dollars and twenty dollars to this cause. It grew strength from the young people who rejected the myth of their generation's apathy; who left their homes and their families for jobs that offered little pay and less sleep; from the not-so-young people who braved the bitter cold and scorching heat to knock on the doors of perfect strangers; from the millions of Americans who volunteered, and organized, and proved that more than two centuries later, a government of the people, by the people and for the people has not perished from this Earth. This is your victory...

Obama’s tone grows appropriately somber, more serious than most had anticipated, because he will not allow America only to revel on this night like no other. He explains the global approach for confronting the difficulties that lay ahead. The victory has not actually been won yet because there is still work to do:

The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even one term, but America - I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there. I promise you - we as a people will get there. There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won't agree with every decision or policy I make as President, and we know that government can't solve every problem. But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And above all, I will ask you to join in the work of remaking this nation the only way it's been done in America for two-hundred and twenty-one years - block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand.

* * *

In his Grant Park speech, Barack Obama made the first movements to unifying all Americans. He reminded us that, instead of simply singing and dancing in the streets and deluding ourselves, we needed to move forward together to overcome the problems of today.

The problems for me were also very personal, since I have been suffering from a mysterious lung disorder since the summer. Countless doctors, medicines and trips to the hospital brought me no relief from the coughing, wheezing and lethargy that kept me housebound during the autumn months. Since I was unable to teach, walk about or take part in any normal daily activities, I counted the hours between medications and the days between doctor visits.

Those moments in between were spent reading the presidential campaign news and following the polls. The outcome of the election virtually became my raison d'etre, the purpose I found to struggle through each day. Upon awaking in the morning, even before leaving bed, the first thing I'd check was Obama's progress in the polls. If he was up so was I; if he dropped a few points my mood sank with him.

The days and weeks passed as the calendar counted down to November 4th. That morning I slowly climbed out of bed, got dressed and made it over to my polling place, the local fire station. After signing in and pulling the curtain behind me, I suddenly feared that my electronic machine would register my vote wrong. The Simpsons clip where Homer votes for Obama but the light flashes for McCain came to mind as my finger reached to press my choice. What if it didn't register correctly?

With a quick, index-finger touch to the smooth, plastic-faced screen, however, my votes were correctly cast. My worries had been needless; I had proudly added my piece to the electoral puzzle that would take shape later that evening.

My wife and I sat on our sofa and watched the Grant Park event on our television, hundreds of miles away from Obama and his podium. I felt, though, that he was standing there in our living room and that his message was for both America and for me. As I listened, tears welled up in my eyes. My wife asked me what was troubling me, and I choked up, smiled and whispered, “Things are going to change.”

On that night like no other, Obama inspired me and brought hope back into my life. I realized that my suffering paralleled that of our country, and I believed in my heart of hearts that my country and I, we would both recover.