Freezing For The Future: My Day with Ray/ Vote OBAMA!

I cannot take credit for this video; I do not have the capture ability. Contrary to the meme, my phone is only an LG VX8300, and, while handy for bar snaps, not good to capture the hugeness of this thing except in a rather revealing abstraction- a slightly deconstructed spirit photograph, if you’ll excuse the semiotic back flip.

However: The Kid, The Veteran, Professor, Accountant, ROTC, Joe Public and otherwise passionately exhausted citizens of these United States, getting reminded how much these used to be our United States and not just their United States, the States of Fear, the States where the most virulent people waving the flag were most antithetical to the words behind it, and thus, odious to it, and could be again, who’s technology was better than mine, should be thanked for this video, and for two reasons;
1. It’s earnest Cinema Verite, for, after standing on the glacier outside in 5/3 for two hours, people went bananas while inside, and this shows Obama’s entrance.
2. The above person was in my section, hell, somewhere in my row it seems, and thus, he is kind of acting as a Wizard by Proxy.
This time last week, I was in my office, watching the slow trickle of southern Ohio make its way to the venue formerly known as the Shoemaker Center, but now named after a bank. Something’s never change, even on university campuses, and vanity naming rights of various buildings to the highest fat cat contributor is a constant, even if they are responsible for turning loose CIA backed rightwing death squads in Central America…ah, the humanities.

It didn’t seem like very much, but I had some odds and ends to tie up for Tuesday-a slide show for the Guidance Counselors coming the following day, showing all the wonderful things we do at the Center For Access and Transition. It will also likely be one of many media epitaphs of this brilliant if misunderstood simple proposition: The University serving the people of the city, all the people. Imagine! Oh well, it was fun…

(We bring you back to you preordained Ivory Tower, already [and always] in progress.)

It was hard to concentrate, though; Since the ill starred run of John Kerry, a less than stellar candidate who should have (and by some accounts, did) beat Bush, I’ve been paying attention to Barack Obama. Certainly, his star turn at the Convention (the only real bright spot in an otherwise horrible year of hoping against hope) made everybody take notice of the Junior Senator, though, his relative inexperience seemed to be a problem for the foreseeable future. The foreseeable future, however, had a visibility of about eighteen months.

You know the rest; Kerry gets beat, and we have another four years of Emperor Dumbass and his cronies, and, as a result, they proceed to run the country further into the ground-further, I think, than anyone could have imagined. I mean, c’mon-running for the President of the United States in 2008, and you have to state explicitly that you would restore habeas corpus? This is what we’ve come to.

Early on in this thing, I was delighted to have John Edwards back, though I admired Barack Obama a great deal, I wasn’t so sure yet. What a quandary to have. The field was well qualified, and, with the exception of Hillary Clinton, who’s demons haunt us, and the spectre of a Co-Presidency with Bill

Incidentally, for those of you who may have rose tinted the nineties, it was all Doc Martens, floppy hippy hats and Pearl Jam, you know. However, given the last eight years, the tendency to treat it like a fucking GOLDEN AGE is understandable. Hell, I’ve get nostalgic whenever I hear “Hunger Strike”, but c’mon, I like Little Richard, too, but I don’t want to revisit the fifties…
It’s instructive, though, perform this little exercise in nostalgia-go ahead, love the 90’s, only in so far as it is necessary to perform an exorcism of that time as well, because, while in the perverse simulacra that has been the United States for about a decade, it would seem that returning to the 90’
s-something that the Clintons are trying to sell us on, makes sense, since we now back in the Eighties. Bush made an Eighties that Reagan’s darker visions could not fathom: Perpetual War. Corporate Hegemony. Jesus Freaks, out in the street-running for fucking Congress. Ah yes…The New World Order-except that Reagan, the old bastard, was an incredible politician, and surrounded himself with intelligent misguided people in the context of the Cold War. Bush surrounded himself with second and third tier Cold Warriors with no Soviet Union who had been milking no bids for whatever Very Large Corporation (VLC) they had been shilling for since the Bush 41 spectacularly crashed and burned in the early 90’s. Thus, the Very Large Cluster Fuck we find ourselves in now (VLC[F]).

While freezing the magical gonads off in much more frigid weather than the Doppler had called for-much more, like ten or more degrees, watching people queue up by the dozens since my 11 am arrival time. By One, the line went from the front of 5/3rd Arena, around the back, up behind the baseball field, around the front of Edwards, and out to Vine St. En mass, people came out, skipped class, cancelled class, skipped work, and stood out in the elements, waiting to see this guy who keeps going on about change. It was amazing to see people from all corners of the American tapestry here to hear, “just words”. The Korean and Vietnam War vets, the retire teachers, the preachers, the students, the Grad student who had voted for Bush, all out in the elements.

And Ray. Ray got in line right behind me, and, just like people caught in uncomfortable climatic conditions, we began to joke about the weather, about freezing, and about the fact that neither Ray nor myself were wearing the proper socks for standing for a long time on the icy snowpack that was the plaza level of the arena.

Ray introduced himself, and explained that his wife, who worked at a local hospital, was unable to attend, and that he had an extra “Ticket for Change”, which he had procured at the HQ downtown, and he wondered whether I wanted it; “We get to sit in a special section”. Sweet.

It was just around Two when the line started moving, and people began filing into the arena. As the flow of the line led to the side of the Arena, I watched Michael Eric Dyson go into a side entrance. One of my heroes! This was better than the rumor (which I could not visually verify) that George Clooney was in the house. Yeah, whatever.

Ray and I continued chatting. He works at a local corporation (uhhh mmmm),is a big Springsteen fan and came to “be convinced” that Obama was the real deal. I explained that I had made a decision in December that, despite having started as an Edwards supporter, Obama seemed like he might actually have a chance to fulfill his promise. The possibility that he might do just that, and more, fulfill our promise was tempting.

However, I reject the idea of a “historic candidate” in favor of this “historic moment”; who can begin to undo the disaster of Emperor Bush? Who can we trust to turn back to the Constitution, and not be tempted to take the expanded executive power and use it for “good”. There are no good uses for this power-it can only end in tyranny. Who had the judgment to see the Iraqi clusterfuck on the horizon. I’m no national security expert, but I read the papers, and I knew that BushCo’s claims were hincty at best, and criminal at worst. In this case, at least Edwards apologized. But not Hillary. How is this possible?
Since South Carolina, it’s been a foul affair, with the Clintons, proving Obama’s thesis about the “politics of the future” with every shitty insinuation, every whisper campaign, and some actually strange bizarre behavior involving a playground challenge for Cleveland. It seems that the Clinton’s are desperate, and willing to do anything.

Ray, and our new frozen friends, echoed these sentiments, bewildered as to why the Clintons, who most of us had supported at one time or another, would be so willing to blacken the eye of the Party because of some sense of entitlement. The people are shouting loud, in the ballot box, and in the glacier that was Cincinnati last Monday.

Finally, we shuffled inside, and the closest visual analogue I can think of is the excitement of your first Rock N Roll show, when you know you are about to see something amazing. But for all the trappings of Rock N Roll visually, it felt more like a Revival. Stomping. Clapping. Shouting. Call and Response. And the church organ, courtesy of the Stevie Wonder blaring out of the arena’s public address system

Ray and I, stopped by the men’s room for some last minute business, and found our way around to the “preferred viewing” section, and took a place among the others, waiting for change, the cross section of America.

Outside of this brother and sisterhood, downtown, the ugly truth of America, the ugly right wing Cincinnati were whooping it up, enjoying the “jokes” of local embarrassment Bill Cunningham as he insinuated that Obama was a terrorist, to the execrating throngs of a paranoid local Country Club set. It was only later that this would slightly embitter this day with its reminder of the work that lies before us. In fact, as I type this sentence, this remains very true, with Hillary Clinton weaseling out of refuting the rumor that Obama is a Muslim. Nice…

One has to wonder whose side she’s on, and the answer is clear as I sat with this cross section of the country, this American Panoply; She’s on her own side, which why we are assembled here. She isn’t on our side.

Ray and I set about inadequately trying to capture the images of this event with our limited technology while Mallory announced his support. This was met with rapturous applause, but I had the sense it was a bit like, to paraphrase the movie “like having your band open for Nirvana”. Thankfully, somebody captured this lightning.
Ray and I talked a bit, mostly about Tom Waits’s latest CD and his show in Louisville last year. Naturally, I told Ray that it was awesome, religious even, because it was. Not unlike this moment.

Then Obama came out, and the place went absolutely bananas. Bedlam. People freaked.

What followed was an hour the, like the best music, built to a crescendo, and it seemed as though each thought, each sentence he threw out there, snowballed in its conviction, its moral authority, and crackled with electricity. The people here wanted to hear that the American Dream has been slipping away, because it has. The people wanted to hear that the war is wrong, because it is. The people wanted to hear that teachers should not be teaching to a test, because it is a disaster, and, in what may be the most optimistic, heartening moment I have ever experienced as an American, that we have work to do, and we must think beyond our own selfish interest, and think about what’s good for the country. Yes I can. Yes I can. YES I CAN.

Readers of this little blog will know that I am as cynical as they come. People who know me know that Jesuit Skepticism, if not its theology, is burned into my critical brain. I clapped until my recently thawed hands ached. I stomped until my nuts hurt. I screamed myself hoarse. He called for the future, and I responded. Yes I can.

Ray and I, and everybody, just looked at each other, gobsmacked, bowled over, ready to take it on NOW. This revival was the revival of our country. This, simply, was one of the most amazing things I have seen in my life. If this was his standard stump speech, it must be like watching Judas Priest crank out “Livin’ After Midnight” twenty six years after they wrote it, with the conviction and thermonuclear energy of the righteous: Hell YES!

As I finished this reflection, this reportage, I am sorry that I must wait until May to help this light burn brightest as our next President of the United States, who can, should and will inspire us toward the actualization of our Creed, toward a new era of justice worldwide by insuring it at home.

I’m thinking of my new friend Ray, who had parked all the way down Straight St. I was parked at a meter on Jefferson, and we walked, making some small talk, to my car, so I could give him a lift to his car. We talked about had happened, and we really couldn’t articulate it. We nodded, and pondered. I dropped him off at his car, and bid him a good evening, thanking him for the ticket. He smiled, nodded, and went off into the winter afternoon.

Tomorrow, Ohio, Texas, Rhode Island and Vermont will help decide this future, perhaps once and for all. I understand, full well, the implications here, and I only hope, with baited breath, that Ohio, the state of my birth, will reach for future. I know Ray will.