America on the Bubble

I feel like I can’t write much on the election here that wouldn’t sound trite, recycled, or obtuse. But the fact is, as I bubbled in my vote today on the (very accurate) Vermont paper Scantron ballot, I felt a dizzying sense of patriotism (which doesn’t often strike me, to tell the truth). I felt not only that I was executing my civic duty but that I was undoubtedly making history there in the cafeteria of Frederick H. Tuttle Middle School. We are approaching an encouraging new era in this country when, no matter the outcome tonight, we have a multi-racial Democratic nominee with the ardent support of millions of Americans from diverse backgrounds. The paradigm of the old white man (and there have, admittedly, been some good ones) is crumbling at the roots. Not that I voted for Mr. Obama because of his race—I voted for him because we need a president with vision, humility, equanimity, and intelligence—but I cannot deny that having the opportunity to vote for someone of African-American descent made me a little giddy. Because I never thought I would see it in my lifetime. (As my co-worker Dan Jacobs noted earlier today, neither did Tupac.)

Some weeks ago, my uber-conservative-southern-Republican father told me over the phone in a very genuine way that, for the first time in his life, he feels like he could someday vote for a black man for president. Even though I’m certain he voted for McCain today, along with many others in my family, this was a huge step forward for him. I can only hope that the same seed growing young roots within my father is taking to the wind and propagating all across Palin’s “real America.”

On the wall in my office I have a clipped photo of Rosa Parks, just after her arrest in Montgomery on December 1, 1955 for civil disobedience. I often look up at her and wonder if it’s indignity, insolence, pride, or fear in her expression, but I swear today she looks on the verge of smiling. Just 8 years after Mrs. Parks’ arrest, Sam Cooke had it right when he prophetically sang that “a change gone come, oh yes it will.” In the year of his death, The Civil Rights Act of 1964, legislation largely precipitated by Parks’ brave actions, was signed into law. Two generations since that time, we still haven’t come full circle, I know. Racism is still entrenched in every corner of the country. And there are other civil rights issues still challenging our legislators, judiciary, and electorate. I myself live in Vermont (again, now not the sole reason) because, when I moved here in 2003, it was the only state to allow civil unions. Every morning when I come in to work, I see this mug shot of prisoner 7053 and condemn myself just a little for seeking refuge in another state. I wish for a time that I could have exhibited the same sort of bravery, although I do take solace in the fact that even Rosa Parks and her husband eventually fled the hostile environment in Alabama and moved to Detroit. But I am doing my best to find my own brand of courage, and filling in that bubble today was just a small part of it. I know, whether it’s this day or another day, whether from me or for me…a change gone come.