Super Tuesday

As most kids do, up to a certain age, I supported whatever candidate my parents supported. In the Hall & Oates/Foreigner-laden year of 1980, that meant supporting Jimmy Carter. I recall that in October of that year, Mrs. Woolfort, the 3rd Grade teacher in my small town Michigan grade school called us each up to the board to put a check mark under one of two names she had written on the board. Ronald Reagan and Jimmy Carter. I was one of TWO people who checked under Jimmy Carter. He was the incumbent for Pete's sake! Alas, Reagan beat him soundly in November too and brought forth on this continent a New Conservatism. I went on dividing my time between playing sports and singing Forever in Blue Jeans into my comb while dancing in front of the mirror. Gotta love Neil.

In 1984, dare I say, we were better off then we were four years earlier. I had just moved to sunny, warm Houston from cold, snowy Michigan. The economy was starting to pick up. And I was starting to get my political feet and was supporting ol' Ronny despite the Democratic leanings of my parents. I recall taping his convention speech so I could watch it again and again. For some reason, he really brought forth a strong sense of love for America that I recognized immediately as "Patriotism". And that was a feeling that I enjoyed having.

By the by, Reagan soundly defeated the Democrat's ticket of Walter Mondale and Geraldine Ferraro and I was introduced to the term "landslide". There was much talk that Mondale sealed his defeat the moment he chose a female running mate, the first time a woman was ever on a major ticket. Much talk centered around the country "not being ready" for a female being one heartbeat away from the leadership of the free world. Life went on...

Fast forward 4 years...Reagan is leaving office and his "wimpy" Veep is the favorite for the White House as he wins the Republican nomination. The Democratic field was seemingly the worst case of "lesser of all evils". Gary Hart turned out to be a womanizer (which we hadn't yet found out was not necessarily a bad trait for a President) and Michael Dukakis lacked interpersonal skills and carried the baggage of Willie Horton around for all to see. The third major challenger was a minister by the name of Jesse Jackson. A tireless fighter for civil rights who had marched alongside Dr. King. And, the first "serious" black Presidential candidate. I quote serious because it was serious only to Jackson and a small cadre of supporters. Most of the country saw him as a novelty item and dismissed his candidacy...much talk revolved around the country "not being ready" for a black President. Bush won and life went on...

So, here we are...20 years later. I am sitting in my hotel room watching the results pour in from polling stations around the country on what is being dubbed as everything from Super Tuesday to Super Duper Tuesday to Tsunami Tuesday. Or, if you are John McCain, you state it more matter-of-factly..."the closest this country has ever had to a national primary." And as I am watching the numbers come in, Mike Huckabee gives a speech to his supporters....then John McCain gives his speech....then Mitt Romney. All white males. Business as usual. Then, Hillary Rodham Clinton gives her speech. One of two candidates left on the Democrat side, she is well-positioned on this night to start thinking about winning the nomination to become the first female to represent her party in the race for the White House. Then, the final candidate's speech begins and, for some reason, I am suddenly overcome with emotion. Watching this young man giving a ridiculously eloquent speech about hope....about change...about the endless opportunities that are possible if we work together...about promising to make this country great again. The words are moving. But,as I listen and watch, I take special notice of the elderly African American ladies behind this young presidential candidate...pride seemingly flowing from their very pores....eyes glowing as they watch and listen. I think to myself that they must be floored at what they are experiencing. With all the prejudice they have experienced in life...with hearing all their lives that this country will never treat them as equals...being told that the thought of ever seeing a black president would be akin to martians landing on earth. There they sit, transfixed as they watch Barack Obama speak. A black man. A serious contender for the Democratic nomination. One of the favorites to occupy the White House for the next four years. It occurs to me that maybe...just maybe, in the year 2008, the country just might finally be ready for a female or black President.

And I am suddenly very, VERY proud to be an American. And that, my friends, is a feeling I enjoy having.

Much love to ALL,

jak