It is election night 2008 after the longest presidential campaign in history. My sister insists it will be over by bedtime, but I think that’s a bit optimistic. Nonetheless, I am camped out in front of the TV watching Brian Williams light up one state after another on an electric map.
It is 48 years since I’ve watch an election night with my heart in my throat. The world was charmed by John F. Kennedy in 1960; it is charmed by Barack Obama in 2008. Kennedy faced some tough issues then, including civil rights, the threat of nuclear war with Russia, and his own poor health, which was never revealed during his life. His extracurricular love life made Bill Clinton look like a boy scout, but that wasn’t public knowledge either. Whatever unspoken contract existed between the president and the press in those days has been shattered in the intervening years.
It’s amazing how mesmerizing this coverage is, considering how sick to death I was of the whole thing. The pundits appear to have memorized every election statistic ever recorded. It sounds a lot like an entire team of announcers doing color commentary at the World Series. One wonders how they can keep all of this straight. (Ah, the Internet, perhaps.)
My son-in-law, who knocked on doors in Florida while I was knocking on doors in Missouri, just called to see how I’m doing. Frankly, I wish I were there because it would be much more fun to be watching this with other like-minded people so we could all yell and scream when our guy wins.
It is 10:00 p.m. My sister was right. It’s over by bedtime. Barack Obama, the first African American in this country's history, has just been elected president of the United States. (Imagine me yelling and screaming.)
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