Saturday was a day I will never forget.
Back on November 4, 2008, I sat on my couch, talking to my friend, Donna, on the phone as the networks declared Barack Obama as the President-elect of the United States. It was a historic moment in the history of our country that I will never forget. A moment that I am so thankful to have shared with my friend over the phone lines.
Elysha, seven months pregnant, had gone to bed.
This time things were very different. It was four days after the election and nothing was certain. Votes were being counted and things seem to be moving in the right direction, but no call had been made. I played golf in the morning with my friend, Andrew, who asked when I thought an announcement would be made.
“Today,” I said, knowing how the count was proceeding in Philadelphia. “Maybe tomorrow, but probably later today.”
Still, I wasn’t sure. I was still worried that something disastrous might happen.
Two hours later I was sitting in my office, consulting with a businessman in Romania who sells survival gear to the kind of people who support Trump. Apocalypse planners. Men and women who fear the United States government. Conservatives who believe that anyone can succeed if they just work hard enough. Deniers of institutional racism. The kind of white guys who were born on third base and think they hit a triple.
This business man and I were talking about weaving stories into his sales pitches when Elysha entered my office, picked up a pen, and wrote three words on a notepad on my desk:
“They called Pennsylvania.”
It was such a strange and surreal way to discover that our four year national nightmare was finally coming to an end:
In the midst of consulting with a man in Romania about storytelling.
We celebrated this momentous day with a long drive to an ice cream shop that Elysha had wanted to try for a long time. We listened to music as we drove through towns bathed in the yellow and orange of a late New England autumn. We ate ice cream on a picnic table outside the shop then popped into a bookstore, where we bought the latest Diary of a Wimpy Kid and Billy Collin’s new collection of poetry. Elysha chatted up the bookstore owner, as she always does, while Charlie and Clara sat on stools and read.
Later that night, Elysha and I sat on our couch, side by side, listening to Vice President-elect Kamala Harris and President-elect Joe Biden deliver their acceptance speeches. It was soul-filling to hear speeches that were not filled with gibberish, self-congratulation, partisan attacks, and blatant lies. It was thrilling to listen to our first future female Vice President. Our first future Black Vice President. Our first future Vice President of south Asian descent. Our first future Vice President born from immigrant parents.
Barriers fell on Saturday. Glass ceilings were smashed. Possibilities became realities.
Biden’s speech featured quotes from Shakespeare, Langston Hughes, Martin Luther King, Abraham Lincoln, and the Bible. It was so refreshing to listen to someone espouse a degree of intellect and wisdom that has been missing in our country for the past four years. He did not look or sound like a man who has lost a step. He struck a perfect chord. Reached across the aisle. Invited all Americans to put aside our partisan divides and find ways to work together.
I went to bed on Saturday night with hope in my heart. I always sleep well, but on Saturday night, I had good reason to sleep well.
