Well not really me, since I was about 10,000 back, 5,000 over on the right. Watch for me on the TV screen; I'm over there with about 50,000 other people surrounding the giant Kerry Edwards sign.
Those that know me know I'm a fairly longtime kossack from Los Angeles. So here I am in Cleveland, a stranger in a strange land, a blue stater in a battleground state. As I mentioned to several of you (very lame for not responding) Ohio kossacks, I was coming to Cleveland on business and would be here through the election. I was hoping to find some worthy GOTV events, and wanted to know if there were any recommended hangouts or watering holes for K/E voters to work together, gather together and on Tuesday watch the returns together.
Instead...
...I end up at the Holiday Inn Westgate. My first night there, watching the game in the bar, I suddenly find myself surrounded by the enemy--Bush/Cheney anti-GOTV forces have infested the hotel. They are literally crawling all over the place. Why just now, I stepped away from typing this to you and helped a very lovely woman get on the internet, only to find her t-shirt says Republican National Committee. Sorry for the following sexist remark, but I didn't know there were women I would find lovely in the GOP.
At first I thought it was only the fervent but ignorant young canvassers, but then their political bosses arrive, graybeards all, wizened white males with evil in their hearts and tax breaks in their wallets. Then I realized that these youngsters are merely the foot soldiers of the anti-voting rights crowd, with these guys as the masterminds. Eavesdropping only confirms the worst.
Well then God stepped in and saved me ladies and gentleman, because I find out she loves the Boss and has booked him in Cleveland to introduce Kerry tonight. I could not get out of my meetings fast enough, I could not drive fast enough to downtown Cleveland, and I could not run fast enough to stand for the next three hours waiting for the salvation of this country to throw his last big rally before we vote. No siree, I couldn't escape the BC dungeon that is the Holiday Inn fast enough.
The rally was this strange combination of banal and inspiring. We had about a 3 hour wait, and I got to take a good look at the largest crowd of like-minded people I have ever seen. And although I've always known it in an abstract way, here's what I found out for real about us Dems and Progressives: we are every color in the rainbow, we are straight and we are gay, we are young and we are old, we are blue collar and we are white collar, we are educated and we are streetwise. We are Christian and Jewish and Moslem and Methodist and Born Again and Agnostic and Athiest. We are what we say we are--I saw t-shirts that read Teamsters for Kerry, Firefighters for Kerry, Women for Kerry. I saw lots of children, teens, far more college students than I thought I would, and grandmothers with grandkids. I saw pipefitters, plumbers, executives, entrepreneurs, computer geeks, punks and retirees. I saw fear and concern and rage and hope. I saw far more tattoos and piercings than I bet I would have at a GOP event, and far less golf shirts and khakis. And very few tasseled loafers, thank God.
Bruce was an inspiration. The humility of his message coupled with his confidence in front of a crowd, with just a guitar and harmonica, was riveting. He had those grandmothers clapping their hands and, here's how you know it was a Democratic event, most of them knew the words and were singing along.
Then Kerry stepped up. Chills. Not because he was eloquent in some new way, or because he had suddenly become amazingly charismatic. No, his speech was pretty much a recitation of his golden oldies--Iraq, health care, prescription drugs, jobs jobs jobs; safer in the world, respected at home; its in our hands know, etc. You've all heard it before. And he was tired. You could hear it in his voice, see it on his face. But still, he was powerful. Because I realized that I and all of those around me saw something in him that we trusted, and so had burdened him with that trust. And it felt like he knew it too, that he had our trust and would do everything in his power to live up to it.
So his standard stump phrases took on new meaning, for us and I think for him. So close now and so possible, it felt like history was there in Cleveland with us. We felt its weight, breathed in it's musty scent, and roared it out at the top of our lungs when he called us to live up to the historical moment. I had already voted before I left California, but still I wished I could be in line with everyone tomorrow, staring down these idiots in my hotel as they tried to challenge me and those around me.
Speaking of them, they were in the bar again when I got back. I went to the jukebox and selected No Surrender. Twice in a row. Then I hit Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow and left the bar.