The Christmas packages for Michigan and Ohio have been delivered to the post office, and are wending their ways to their destinations. It's still too early to wrap the kids' gifts, since the 5th grader is particularly unskilled at waiting patiently; why torment her (and myself) needlessly? The tree's been up for a week now. Nothing left in this department to be done.
School was out last Friday the 18th, and I don't have to go back until Wednesday, January 6, 2010. That's eighteen days on my hands, with very little to do and limited resources to use to distract myself. Weeks away from being able to go on long walks, I'm confined (sentenced?) to what feels like house arrest. Trapped like a trap in a trap, to quote Ms. Parker.
In short, there's nothing left to be done but consider: what am I going to do about President Obama?
Two whole years ago, even I (a registered "independent" with serious Green leanings) was thrilled by the large field of Democratic presidential candidates. It was gratifying to contemplate how many worthy women and men were qualified, available, and interested. Any of them, we all realized in delight, was more than capable of succeeding "W" in every sense of the word "succeeding." Remember the sorry cast of characters vying for the Republican party's nomination? We all had a right to be proud, confident, and optimistic.
Very early on in 2008 I found on the internet a 14-question quiz which promised to show me the candidate who best matched my own positions. (I faintly, not confidently, recall hearing about it via Thom Hartmann's radio show.) Not much to my surprise, Dennis Kucinich was my personal "dream candidate," qualifying on 13 out of the 14 possible "matches."
Almost before I could do more research and/or contribute to his campaign, the corporate media decided his was a voice the nation ought not to be bothered with. With negligible protest from the Democratic party (as best as I can recall), Rep. Kucinich was minimalized, trivialized, and ultimately vaporized, not only as a candidate but as a proxy for progressive values and ideas.
At this point, John Edwards was the only remaining candidate talking about the fundamental problems in the US, via "Two Americas." Oh, well.
Once the "race" boiled down to Hilary versus Barack, I took a little comfort in the fact that our next President would be an historic "first." Of course Cynthia McKinney would have been an even more awesome "first;" and I knew damned well in my heart of hearts that neither of the remaining Democratic contenders could be considered even remotely progressive. I was content enough with Obama's eventual victory, particularly since my teenaged son was frankly thrilled by it. (That's a huge "mom" thing, "whatever makes my child happy....") It was exciting to live so close to the convention in Denver, too - nothing like it, I thought, since the Pope visited in 1993! (That ought to be an easy lob for somebody....)
Then Obama was nominated - 45 years to the day after "I Have a Dream!" Could that have been planned? - and I sat in front of the television, rapt, the next evening as he gave his acceptance speech.
Maybe eliminating the progressive candidates didn't necessarily doom progressive ideals. Maybe the bare fact that a non-white male was able to win the nomination of the "left" half of The Establishment, was in itself enough of a strong foundation for progressive hopes.
I was overwhelmingly busy that autumn with selling my house and moving into my townhouse, but contributed about $80 to Obama's campaign. (That's about a week's worth of groceries, if/when the "sale goddess" is with me.) I voted on October 31, unable to resist the "trick or treat" connotation to what I was doing. We closed on selling the house on Election Day, and moved out the day after. The entire elementary school watched the Inauguration - my lap occupied by a special needs kindergartener, who was himself occupied with picking his nose as the Oath of Office was fumbled. (I personally think Justice Roberts was choking on the words.)
Eleven months afterward, one of the beneficial effects of having President Obama is a marked influence on the school kids I work with. I don't have any slackers; all the kids, even the ones who previously boasted the worst attitudes, are buckling down and learning. They resent being behind in their studies. This was manifestly not the case, before January 2009.
I am as enraged as everyone else about the fiasco masquerading as "health care," the deliberate inattention to real financial reform, the escalation of the Afghanistan war, and the failure to meet with strength and courage impending climate disaster. I remember just how far down Candidate Obama was on my list of Democratic "dream dates," and ponder how/if/why I managed to get myself hoodwinked yet again by my own expectations. I am just enough disappointed with reality that I seriously doubt I will ever again contribute the equivalent of a week's worth of groceries to any political candidate.
It's all in Howard Zinn, ya know. In "A People's History of the United States," Professor Zinn devoted an entire chapter, "The Coming Revolt of the Guards," to this hope: that We The People will get over the ideas that
...in times of crisis we must look to someone to save us
and that
...the supreme act of citizenship is to choose among saviors, by going into a voting booth every four years to choose between two white and well-off Anglo-Saxon males of inoffensive personality and orthodox opinions.
(I would argue that getting rid of the "white and well-off Anglo-Saxon" clause doesn't change Zinn's basic premise: no saviors!)
Eighty dollars to a cause, though, is something else. My personal belief is that, if we don't have a healthy planet on which to enact reform, it's all moot. With two-plus weeks of free time, I can surely find an environmental group that won't sneer at my divorcee's mite.
I could also spend $80 on educational supplies for the kiddos I work with; the more literate our electorate is, the more likely we'll see justice in our lifetimes.
I almost titled this diary "Looking for a Good Parking Meter," in reference to the Dylan song "Subterranean Homesick Blues:"
Don't follow leaders
Watch the parking meters
That song doesn't convey to me, though, the feelings of being burned, had, taken in, bamboozled, etc. Pete Townshend said the same thing as Professor Zinn, after all, the difference being that Pete's version has a good beat and you can dance to it. Instead of railing at Obama for not living up to my expectations (even though I knew it wasn't likely!), and seeking a better fit for them, I will take the responsibility myself, and do something about it.