There was this moment in the last debate, when Barack Obama was asked some tricky question, and I was sitting there thinking, oh man don't screw this one up, tread carefully. The utterly pointless thing I do when I'm rooting for somebody in the public spotlight and so much can hinge on one botched reply.
But then I realized, he's GOT this. As much as I knew my held breath wasn't going to change anything, I also knew I could trust him to be on top of the situation and to speak well. That was the moment when he went from being my candidate, to being my president. That was when I knew I needed to do some of the things he was asking. I did not do very much. I could and should have done a lot more. But it went on record, as did my making absofuckinglutely sure my registration was in order, and standing in a line of strangers by a loading dock before dawn, and choosing my leader on a screen and trying very hard to keep my shit together because here, Gabby, I'm trying my best, here's the first one. If this works, you grow up in a different world.
People all over the planet wept and screamed at the same time last night. His portrait is going to go up in living rooms and there will be a wave of babies named Barack and we will never, ever hear the end of this in rap music. Stupid old P. Diddy was talking to a reporter about the future of American race relations and he broke off mid-sentence to join the "Yes We Can!" chant, because that was the thing that was more important to him right then. These are some of the things I thought about as I sat in my pajamas on my front porch at 1 o'clock this morning, listening to the shouts and fireworks and horns honking all over my city. Today I get to go out into the world and look people right in the eye.
Transition starts at noon today. Dude is on the job.
