A few minutes ago my mother and I just gloried in Barack Obama's sensitive, clever, funny address to the audience at the Alfred E. Smith Memorial Foundation Dinner tonight. Thank you, Rachel Maddow, for this glimpse of what I know to be my true country--people engaging decently with one another, agreeing to disagree, enjoying free speech in an atmosphere of kindness and safety. It is a country I miss. More after the jump.
My mother is a marvelous woman--I learned how to be political at her knee. She taught me to speak up, even when it was hard for her to do so as a woman born in 1934, coming of age in the early 50's, fighting for self-determination at a time when that was not yet a legitimate thing for women to concern themselves with. In the past two years she has struggled with dementia and depression, and this past weekend she arrived here at my upstate NY apartment, having come from her home in Seattle to live with me for a few months. She refers to Obama as "My Obama," and we will fill out her absentee ballot this weekend--she is very excited about it!
Tonight as he spoke, poking fun at himself, at the campaign, at McCain, at the absurdity of American politics, my mother and I laughed along with Obama, and even with John McCain (gulp!!). After thoroughly enjoying the whole thing, my mother (who has informed me, after a couple of days of eating actual meals, of taking long baths and caring for her body, and of discussing politics and life issues with people who care about her, instead of her usual recent routine of hunkering down in an apartment all by herself, sinking lower and lower into depression, she said that, "I know I'm going to be a real person")--anyway, after watching Obama tonight, my mother said, "I feel so much safer tonight."
You're right, Mom--you taught me to be political, I followed in your footsteps, an awed 14 year old as I trailed behind you at various events where you worked your heart out for George McGovern. As I grew up, we talked politics over the laundry, over the grocery shopping, and then later when I would visit you once I was an adult. You are AWESOME--and I am so glad that you feel safer tonight. You sure do deserve it.