Why not?

Okay, I finally have something to say about this election. That's right, two days before I need to actually make up my mind, I finally made up my mind. And it hasn't been easy.

Before this historically massive crux of an election, I have to bashfully admit that I have not been the most politically informed cat. In college I dated this completely crazy but of course, as it always seems to be, brilliant (this is my type in a nutshell) freak of a political science major. As he won academic bowl after academic bowl for the local community college (on Dexadrine), I casually blew off his passions in the interest of his feedback on my then-perfect floating orbs of golden light-- you may call them breasts. Anyway, he about dumped me when election day passed (Clinton vs. who?) and I had no idea. But I had the orbs, so we worked it out.

So now I feel the guilt and embarrassment of this memory (which I have never shared, by the way) as well as the shame when exposed to my father's immense and staggering sense of patriotism. I am the youngest daughter of a WWII veteran; very lucky to have this perspective. He actually lied about his age to go to war as a Marine-- or his parents signed for him, one of the two. Either way, who the fuck would do that today? What are we missing? We are a nation of spoiled asshole brats. It's disgusting, and I am reminded of this every time I watch FOX news with my 81 year old father. It's no rant of his, it's all mine. But to just simply observe the ever-so-slight swell in his chest while casually observing the state of the nation... it's more reverence than you'll get from any half-hearted pledge of allegiance in school or at a ballgame.

I also remember with some embarrassment but mostly as a major turning point, an incident at a party in college where I found myself getting pretty hammered with some fetching Marines. I had already decided I was really conflicted with my deficit in patriotism or even nationalism at this point, and I figured these guys should be able to help me figure it out. Plus, they might be tempted to rescue me from my frightful plight of cluelessness. I asked them point blank: why do I not feel it? What do you feel about our country that makes you do what you do? What am I missing? And the answer was so simple, and it resonates in my head to this day. He said, "We make it so you can say what you just said."

So in effect, we are so freaking spoiled as a nation that we not only are allowed to question our loyalty, our freedom (Michelle?), but even publicly humiliate our leader in wartime. I have a real problem with this. I don't care how much the man might deserve it, but what do we say about ourselves to the world when we mock our President? We may as well mock ourselves, and we do. I'm sorry, it's just tacky as hell. I dare anyone to call President Bush an idiot in front of someone just home from Iraq. I dare you. Not so funny anymore is it? You think he thinks it's funny? Fuck Bill Maher. Fuck John Stewart. Fuck all that Comedy Central bullshit. It's in seriously poor taste. But that's Hollywood for you.

This said, I have searched high and low for answers with both of our presidential candidates. I subscribe to both of their newsletters, I read all of the mud-slinging propaganda on both of them, and have checked all of the facts (myself, not from their own "fact-checker" sections on their websites). And I was still clueless in this age of information. I have leaned to both sides, and ultimately resided in between, wringing my hands and biting my nails. Then I had a moment of quiet, whispering clarity last night.

I was in Blockbuster, cause I'm an idiot and don't do the Netflix thing. (As with most media purchasing or borrowing, I want to touch it-- another post.) Right in front when you enter the rows of jackets, there was a display with previously viewed DVDs. It had several copies of Barack Obama: Who Is This Guy? (or something to that effect) on it, and I briefly thought to pick one up. But I had kept walking to review the other selections first. As I was scanning the jackets on the New Releases wall, I hear behind me this child's voice, a whisper of wonder, like glimpsing Santa Claus on a Coca Cola commercial-- it couldn't have sounded more utterly American,

"(gasp!) Barack Obama!"

And I could hear him pointing to a buddy or sibling, I didn't turn around. Then,

"I love you, Barack Obama."

I froze right there as tears came to my eyes. And a million romantic thoughts tumbled through my brain that ultimately asked, is it just too awful and naive to look up to someone this way? Can there really, actually be Hope? Is it not just clever campaigning? Could we actually have reverence as a nation, as this child does? Is it just too scary to posit such a thing?

It may be romantic. But no media could replicate the voice of that baby. And he surely learned it from Momma and Daddy (or maybe just Momma?), but I've never heard that kind of wonder out of anyone's mouth in regards to one of our nation's recent leaders. Why not go for it?

KJ

Huh.

Holy shit, that WAS vacuous.

KJ