A Historic Autumn

I haven't written since the Democratic National Convention. So much has happened. There was the rise and ultimate fall of Sarah Palin, starting with her nomination basesd on the assumption that the voters who supported Hillary would automatically support a candidate who shared little in common with Mrs. Clinton in terms of political views, accomplishments, intelligence, or anything else that mattered. Palin had better clothes than Hillary, but so does Paris Hilton. Who knew that Katie Couric would play such a significant role in the demise of Sarah Palin?

There was the economic crisis, follwed by the "suspension" of John McCain's campaign just before the first presidential debate. There were the three debates that occurred, with Obama taking all three according to the populace.

There was Joe the Plumber, I think. I'm still not sure he wasn't a figment of my imagination. He was the GOP's every man? As Time put it, his name wasn't Joe and he wasn't a plumber, but the "the" seemed accurate. That didn't stop him from appearing at McCain campaign rallies and giving his opinion on the fate of Israel should Obama be elected president.

There was the nearly flawless campaign of Barack Obama, in which he captured the hearts and minds of enough of the electorate to result in his election to be the POTUS. This has been even more unbelievable.

It hasn't been three weeks since election night, but the memory of that night will be burned indelibly on my memory. I missed election day, having chosen that time to visit BoilerBaby 1 in Spain. I voted early, as I could proudly confirm to all of the people in Spain who asked upon verifying my status as an American. I fretted all day that Tuesday, wondering if the polls showing Obama leading were accurate. Would people actually show up to vote, especially if it meant standing in line for perhaps hours? Would the votes be counted accurately? Would there be a repeat of the 2000 Florida debacle?

With the time difference in Spain, it was excruciating waiting for voting to even begin. BoilerBaby 1 and I spent that morning at the Alhambra and that night at a flamenco performance, which helped to take my mind off of the election some. But that night, as we turned in for bed, the first returns were just coming in, and McCain was ahead in the electoral count. We set the alarm to awake at 5 a.m. thinking that there might news by then.

I may have waked everyone on the hotel floor when I turned the tv on and saw the "breaking news" that CNN had called the election for Obama. McCain's concession speech was well-written and well-delivered. From the moment Obama took the stage, he looked and sounded presidential. There was no triumphant pumping of his arms; there was no gloating; there was Obama, fully cognizant of that moment in history and fully aware of the challenges that lay ahead. It wasn't about Obama, but about the country.

I was totally caught offguard by the response of the Granadiers to the election results. From the florist to shopkeepers to random people on the street to BoilerBaby 1's host family, there was joy and excitement about Obama's election. One shopkeeper came out of his shop to ask if we were Americans and to shout a gleeful Obama!!! The florist described how he danced around his living room upon hearing the results. It was incredible.

What an incredible time to be alive in America.