Okay, I'm in. I get it. I will vote for Barack Obama. Not with hesitation, not with regret, but with the firm desire that he becomes the next President.

I don't quite honestly know if it was the speech he made or the biographic video that came before it, but at some point between the time Dick Durban left the stage and the time Michelle and the kids walked out to greet the guy, I took a great big swallow of the famous Obama kool-aid. Mmmm... tastes like hope.

Look, for me, the question has always been simple: Is this guy for real? Here's a guy who says it's not about the money, it's not about the power, it's not about him. It's about me, and everyone else. He wants to help people, and he wants people to help each other. He challenges us forthrightly and unapologetically to be better. He wants to change the world. When I hear someone say they want to change the world, and they're over 30, I roll my eyes.

I am a pretend optimist because I am a parent. I have to be hopeful, on some level, so that I can trust the world not to ruin my children. If I didn't trust the world not to ruin my children, I would probably make like a hamster and eat them. Or burn down the universe. You get it, right? But beside the sternly-enforced optimism, there is a concurrent and equally necessary streak of pure, nasty, grit-flecked cynicism.

Nobody wants to change the world. Nobody says, "We need to be better people." Nobody says, "Forget the money. Take care of each other." At least nobody smart says that. Nobody realistic. You hear someone talking like that and you can't believe it. I found myself listening tonight and asking, Are you really that guy? Is that some political BS designed to snow the dummies, the kids, the goofy sign-wavers? I'm smarter than that, harder than that, older than that. I was twenty once. I protested the war and the war happened anyway.

At some point tonight, I became convinced. I think he is that guy. I think he means it. And for me, that is enough. He's smart, and he means well. I am not being sarcastic when I say that is enough. Just that makes him palatable. Just that alone. When I think of Al Gore and Hillary Clinton as the other two people I'd like to vote for, I think of all their qualifications and experience. It took believing in Barack Obama to understand that all I really want from the candidate is brains and truly good intentions. That's kind of shocking but it explains a lot.

I don't really care what my criteria are, as long as I understand them. I think I do now.

In a way, I feel relieved. In the words of the indomitable Fox Mulder, "I want to believe." On the other hand, I had two horrible worries almost immediately. One is that someone will bring him down, literally, in the flesh. It was poignant to have this speech coincide with the anniversary of "I Have a Dream" but also chilling. The other worry that I had was that some moral failing would bring him down. They've done so much to build up his family to us, his young and happy family. I'm sure he knows what he's doing and would never, ever jeopardize what's happening to him by cheating on his wife, but... he is human.

Obama, you've got my vote. But please be careful. Be careful with yourself, in this hostile, racist world. And be careful with your family. I choose to trust what you say, and look forward to seeing what you do.

Labels: barack obama, dnc, politics

Who do I love? Hillary Clinton. I love her.

Labels: convention, dnc, hillary clinton, politics

I want to vote for Obama. I do. I am hoping that during the course of this convention, I can make that choice. Last night didn't do it for me though. It didn't work.



First, I was annoyed by the "American Voices" idea. Interspersed with the "real" speakers, there are lots of little nobodies who get to stand up there at the podium and say, "It is so unlikely that I would be here! I am so honored because I am just a county organizer!" Honey, there's a reason you're shocked to be up there. It's because you're not a good speaker, you have nothing interesting to say, and your story about how Barack Obama changed your life with his magical magic is nothing new or interesting.

Everyday Americans do not entertain or engage me, unless they are being made to eat llama guts or sing Stevie Wonder songs. Media, take note. I watch the political conventions to see roof-raising speeches delivered by politicians who are analogizing for their lives. If I wanted to hear average Americans tearfully testifying about Obama, I'd stop hanging up on those volunteers who keep calling my house. Political conventions are for rip-roaring, for spit-flicking, for fist-pumping.



Which brings us to Michelle Obama. Total, abject failure of a speech, in my opinion. You know when the pundits are calling your speech "well-delivered" and congratulating you on doing what you "needed" to do, you're in trouble. To me, the words she was saying were okay if a bit generic. However, the delivery was all high school public speaking coach. Too studied, too robotic. At no time did she look like she was speaking from the heart. She was performing. Now, hey, I don't blame her for practicing, for studying, etc. But she needed to show us something real, something moving, a little raw, a little spontaneous. There was nothing like that. It happened as it was supposed to happen, and there were no moments.

Wait, I am wrong. There were moments -- awkward, desperate, superfake moments during the live teleconference between Barack Obama, in someone's home in Kansas, and Michelle Obama, on stage with their two daughters. Today the media is calling it Huxtable-like. I found it completely horrifying. It was too scripted and not scripted enough. There was a difficult delay in hearing what they were saying to each other. The younger daughter, when Obama asked her, "How do you think Mom did?" replied, "She did good." I like kids as much as anyone else, and maybe it's for that reason that I kind of resent them being framed and delivered like that. There was nothing natural about the little girl asking, in Shirley Temple tones, "What state are you in, Daddy?" to lead him to his introduction of the family that was hosting him. There was nothing cute about the older child's mike getting cut off and her looking around nervously, unsure. The whole thing stank. By all means, bring them up on stage, let us ooo and awww and "How cute!" It's great that Obama has school-age children, and an awesome wife. But having them put on some kind of Neo-Rockwellian tableau was insulting to us and to them. Double plus ungood.

So, was there anything good about the evening? YES.

Benny donned his convention hat and eagerly watched the early parts of the program. We all shouted "McCain Was Wrong!" along with Obama's sister, and noted her use of the rhetorical device -- saying a repeated phrase that the audience can use to participate. Benny noticed and pointed out a *lot* of vocabulary words that he knew from our studies. We noted the "a man who" speech that Caroline Kennedy delivered about Teddy Kennedy. We noted the different "a man who" approach in the video that preceded Michelle Obama's speech. He hooted and cheered and jumped around. That made me feel happy. I think he is enjoying this, and will continue to enjoy the conventions this week and next week. It does my little political heart proud.

Instead of moving on to the next part of the class, since the conventions are only beginning, I think we will spend another week on political conventions. I'm going to be posting some additional activities after the Democrats are done and before the Republicans get rolling, and then we'll segue into producing our campaign materials next week.

Labels: convention, democrats, dnc, election, michelle obama, politics