State College in Early Winter

We wake up to a dusting of snow:
Blades of grass, bent;
Curled brown leaves, filled like pie crusts;
The smell of newness;
The sound of nothingness.

Flurries dance in the road,
Swirl in invisible currents,
Glow in the diffuse streams of light
That have breached the clouds
Like fingers of ghosts.

The ridges of the mountains
Are draped in lace;
Naked branches intertwine
Over white ground.
It is beautiful here.

Out of the Huts of History's Shame... We rise.

I have never been more proud to be an American.

The election of Barack Obama to the presidency of the United States of America is more than just a referendum on failed policies. It is more than an affirmation of the Democratic platform.

To me, and to so many others, this election embodies redemption. In 1776, our founding fathers proclaimed in the Declaration of Independence: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal…” Still, for a century after Thomas Jefferson penned those words, slavery stained our nation’s history, and racism has continued to be a poisonous undercurrent in our culture. I woke up this morning believing that our country is a little closer to the ideal of equality upon which it was established.

I have always taken my right to vote seriously, knowing that so many people in the world never get a say in who will run their country and construct the policies that will determine their lives. But voting yesterday was a completely unique experience for me. First of all, I waited in line, something I’ve never had to do at a polling station. I’ve never been so happy to stand in the cold. It was a joy to watch democracy at work. Secondly, I noticed that I was the oldest person in that line—no more can the current generation of young people be labeled politically apathetic. I started weeping in the voting booth yesterday, as I looked at the ballot and saw a black man as a presidential candidate and a woman as a vice presidential candidate. This truly is the land of opportunity, not just for white, land-owning men, but for a working mother and a man of mixed race, raised by a single mother and grandparents, married to a woman who descended from slaves. I feel so blessed to live in this country.

I’ve worried that the only historical event my grandchildren will ask me about is September 11, one of the darkest days our nation has ever endured. I am so glad that I’ll be able to tell them that I had a hand in one of the brightest moments in American history—electing the first black president.

I know that the road ahead isn’t going to be easy for Barack Obama. The fact that he is the first black president won’t help him salvage the economy, manage two wars, or restore a failed healthcare system. It won’t help him heal the divisions in congress—or in our nation. Only time will tell whether or not he’ll be a good president. But right now, I am choosing to set my fears for the future aside. Today, I am celebrating redemption, hope, and waking up in a country that is better today than it was yesterday.

I heard Maya Angelou (my old neighbor!) read this excerpt from her poem “Still I Rise” on the news this morning. I would like to conclude this post with her beautiful words, which capture the sentiment of this day so well..

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.