History in the making

I know that my son Donald will probably be a little upset by me, but I feel nothing but excitement today.I really felt torn about who to vote for this election. Which I realize was kind of silly because I live in Washington State, and Washington State almost always turns blue.

Also I realized that the election would most likely be decided and over before my states' votes had even been counted.

Of course that is what happened last night.

I did vote. I decided to vote for McCain. I didn't have any real hope that he would win, but it's okay because I also didn't really have much longing for him to win either. To be perfectly honest, there is one main reason why I voted for McCain. I did it, so if Obama really does ruin our country, which I doubt, and which Donald seems so sure of. I can say :

Don't blame me I didn't vote for him.

The thing that amazes me though, is that I don't feel sad, scared, or worried. I feel excited and energized. Last night, watching President Elect Obama and his lovely wife and beautiful little girls, I really did feel hope for our country.

I certainly don't see how he could possibly screw things up the way that eight years of Bush has.

I feel, and have felt all along, that he is a good man.

I don't like that he has associated with that horrible Reverend Wright. I'm also not pleased that we are being told that we need to forget about that relationship. That it, is not important.

I will worry about it if I want to.

But my gut feeling about Obama is that even though I don't agree with all of his beliefs, I do think that he is a decent man, a kind man, and a man who has earned his chance to lead our country.

He is black. And that is one of the things I find so exciting.

I can remember when even as a child, I never liked or more importantly, understood, the idea that black people were inferior in any way to me. I would say that the most negative emotion I ever felt about black people was that I was fascinated by them.

My grandfather was an extremely racist man.

There were too many times to count when I would hear him expounding on his hatred of the black race. I never liked it when I heard him ranting about such things.

I was born in the year 1957. Not exactly a very enlightened time in our history. I don't think I ever met a real black person until I was 8 years old. I had been taught, not by my parents, but by the world around me, that they were a people to fear. It bothered me to feel this way.

When I was 8, a black family had apparently moved into the boundaries of my elementary school. I don't remember the circumstances, but I do remember being with my mom, surrounded by several other women, and they were all talking about the horrors of black children infiltrating North Hill Elementary.

The general feeling among them was: I don't want a negro child in my child's class.

My mom, I could tell, was uncomfortable with the way the conversation was heading. Several of the stronger opinioned women in the group were basically bullying the other women, my mom included, into agreeing with the general consensus that something needed to be done.

When we got home I was burning with curiosity. Some very scary things had been said about what would happen because of these unwanted people.

At least to my 8 year old ears.

I questioned my mother about them. Was it really true that all black people carried knives and switchblades with them? Was it really true that a black person would hurt a white person if given the chance? My mom really didn't know what to say to me. I could tell though that she didn't really believe what these women had been talking about.

I assured myself then, that these must be lies. I knew that a Catholic girl in my second grade class, had told me that if I ever told a single lie that I would go straight to hell. I knew that was not true. (I'd told enough lies after all and I wasn't in Hell yet was I?) I decided that those women were not being true either.

I was so excited to have a negro girl at my school. My teacher, who seemed to be not as afraid as those women my mom had been surrounded by that day, told our class that a new girl was going to be joining our class. I was usually pretty shy in school, but when she asked my class if anybody would like the new girl to sit by them, I about jumped out of my seat I was so happy to raise my hand. There were maybe two other girls who raised their hands too. The teacher told us that she would need to talk to our parents first, and then she would decide where the new girl would sit.

It turned out that one of the handraising girls and I would have her sit in the desk between us.

I remember a few days after that when she came into our class. We had already sung our patriotic song and said the Pledge Of Allegiance. She was very shy. I couldn't wait for her to come and sit by me. I felt so important to be the one she would sit by.

I was shy, but I could also be a talker.

I had so many questions to ask the new girl. I tried to see, without her noticing me seeing, if there was anywhere that she might have a knife. I was so relieved and happy to see that she had nothing of the sort.

I knew I had been right about that one.

There was not much of a chance to talk to her until lunch. At North Hill, we ate our lunch at our desks. I had been smiling as big as I could at her so she would see that I wasn't afraid of her.

That day at lunch, I had myself, my very first conversation with a black person.

At first it was probably a little one-sided. After all I had so many questions for her. But guess what? She had just as many questions for me. We discovered that both our dads worked for Boeing. She didn't have as many siblings as me. She had a baby sister and two older brothers. All I had were sisters.

The more we talked the more I felt a bit of a let down.

I had been expecting her to be so different. I'm not really even sure what I had expected but she was just so normal. I had been assuming I could go home and tell my sisters all the things that made her different and exotic. But she was so much like all the other girls I knew that it took me a while to not be disappointed. We played together at recess that day. At first it was just me, her, and the girl that sat on the other side of her. After a few minutes, we were joined by a couple of other girls, and by the time the bell rang I think we must have had three fourths of the 3rd grade girls in our circle.

I can not remember her name, but it was just a regular name, I think there might have even been another girl in our class with the same name.

She stayed in our class for the rest of the year. After a couple of weeks we didn't even remember to think of her as different. She was just another one of the girls in Miss Duffy's class that year.

I never did have more than a few black students at any of the schools I attended. I do remember in 7th grade when we got a Black choir teacher. His name turned out to be Mr Brown. By then you would have thought it was not such a big deal, but of course there was still lots of negative talk. I had him one year. He was okay, but he was a little full of himself. That's when it really hit me that I didn't have to like or dislike someone because of their color. Mr Brown could sometimes be a pompous jerk because that was the way he was, it had nothing at all to do about the color of his skin.

Well, back to our new President.

I felt such a sense of excitement last night and this morning. Racism has always bothered me. I may not have known a lot of African Americans in my life but I have known enough of them to know that they are just people like any other people. I don't think our country will ever be truly equal as long as there is an, us versus them, attitude. I do understand the reasons behind "Black History Month" or "Miss Black America". I'm just looking forward to the day when there will be no need felt by anyone to have "Separate But Equal" anything.

I think that last night's election is a very promising start to that happening. I don't want to think of President Obama as our first black president as much as just plain President Obama, American President.

I look forward to our next Black President. I look forward to our First Woman President.And then to our next Woman President.

I want so badly to live in the times that Martin Luther King looked forward to. I can't imagine a more important time in our country than when there are no more "African" Americans. No more "Asian" Americans. No more "Mexican" Americans.

Just plain Americans.

It's coming. The time for real equality is definitely coming.

I just hope I will be here to see it.