Brave New Hope by Martha Thomases: Brilliant Disguise

November 8, 2008 Martha Thomases 15 Comments

Brave New Hope
Brilliant Disguise
by Martha Thomases

Even if you weren’t watching the news, you would know the election was called –– and how it was called –– at 11 PM, Eastern Standard Time, from the cheering.  The bars on Varick Street exploded with joy, and hope and promise.

Was it good for you, too?

Apparently, it was good for most of the world.  The news media on Wednesday were full of images of people laughing, crying with happiness, and cheering.  Hundreds of thousands of people went to Grant Park in Chicago, celebrating Obama’s victory.  Forty years ago, in the summer of 1968, Grant Park was the scene of a police riot, when the first Mayor Daley sent his minions to stop the anti-war protesters from disrupting the Democratic convention that nominated Hubert Humphrey.  I’m willing to bet there were more than a few people who participated in both events, extremely happy to celebrate the changes we’ve seen.

I’m really excited about this.  Supporting Obama is a family activity for me.  My son campaigned for him in the primaries in Pennsylvania, and in Nevada during the general election.  We both worked phone banks and bought the Alex Ross t-shirt.  In Nevada this past weekend, my boy was called a n—–r lover, a phrase he had never before heard, nor could he entirely understand why it was an insult.

I have so few opportunities to teach him since he moved away to California.

It’s true that having the first African-American man elected President of the United States, a country founded by slave-owners, is an historic event, one that touches our deepest emotions.  However, I’d like to discuss this in other terms; terms that make this a little bit more about me.

Barack Obama – Barack HUSSEIN Obama – is the first President who will be younger than I am.

How did this happen?  Yes, I know his story, and I know he went to Harvard Law School and edited the Law Review, which shows he’s really, really smart and thorough.  I know that, as an African-American growing up in America during the second half of the Twentieth Century, he had to work three times as hard to be half as successful as a white counterpart.

So he’s earned his success.  I don’t begrudge him that.  But does he have to be so accomplished so young?  He’s making me look bad.

The thing that gives me hope is that, because he’s so much younger than I am, his children are still children.  Sasha and Malia are seven and ten years old.  We’ve seen them with their parents, and they’re adorable.  It’s a testament to their parents that they seem so happy, bright, and well behaved.

One of the great joys of parenthood is that your children allow you to see the world in new ways, to notice things you don’t notice in your important, grown-up life.  They get excited when it snows, or when the ice cream man drives down the street.   They like to run around in circles to get dizzy, to stare at caterpillars and swing on the swings.

They laugh when you say something very serious and important that makes no sense to them.  They think your attempts to be important are ridiculous and hilarious.  You can’t be a pretentious twit when your kids are around.  If you’re lucky, you’ll remember how cool caterpillars can be.

Our presidents could use this reminder that they are humans, like the rest of us.  Maybe, along with Secret Service agents and national security advisors and diplomats, all of our commanders-in-chief should be issued a pair of pre-teens to keep them honest.
— Martha Thomases, Media Goddess, is grateful that there are so many Baker kids for her to borrow.