Last Tuesday evening, November 4, I got home from working out with my trainer around 7 p.m. I turned on the television to see the looking for signal notice. Oh, no, I thought. No Wolf Blitzer! No John King with the magic map of the United States.
Finally, the signal was found. Wolf was doing his thing as the polls started closing, and CNN made their projections. I watched with hope, and the news was good for Barack Obama. Shortly before 10 p.m., I was dozing on the couch. At 10 p.m., I heard the projection from CNN that Barack Obama would be elected President of the United States. I kept waiting, expecting, the news that the projection was wrong, as in 2000. Was I dreaming? Were those fireworks in my living room? People were celebrating in Grant Park, in Atlanta, in New York and in my living room.
I received a call from my husband that he was on his way home and that the election was a landslide. Can it be? Yes. Reality was that Barack Obama would be the 44th President of the United States, the first African American elected to the office. Not until I saw Jesse Jackson crying in Grant Park did the significance of Barack Obama being black occur to me.
Oh, my God, I thought, I can’t believe it. How far we have come in my lifetime! To me, his being black isn’t important. But it is important for the historical significance.
I like him for his vision and his intelligence. I see him as a leader for our age.
