As recently as August 25th, I wasn't sure if I was going to vote for him. Well today I sent in my absentee ballot, marked for only Democrats, Libertarians, and Obama. Barack Obama has succeeded in doing what no other candidate has ever done for me: I feel connected to him. I feel that his fate is my fate. I care about him.
And he has done this just by being himself.
This realization finally cemented for me when Obama went to visit his ailing grandmother. You see, my grandma pretty much raised me too. She taught me how to play board games, she taught me how to sew, how to wash clothes, how to cook, how to save money. She showed me old family pictures which were worth a thousand stories--pictures which I still have today.
She died when I was a teenager at a time when I didn't really want to have much to do with her. I still cry when I talk about this. I loved her so much and I was such an asshole. Which is why I'm so glad that--even though I know it must be damn near impossible for him to do--Obama had the chance to say goodbye to his grandma.
For my entire life up until her death, my grandma lived with my mother, sister, and me. My mother and father were divorced, and they both owned equal shares of the house we were living in. I discovered this over the years, and was emotionally devastated when they agreed to sell the house as I was entering high school. We moved, I became depressed, and I wasn't really the same ever again. I withdrew from most people, including my grandma. And then she died.
I didn't get a chance to say goodbye. I don't even know if she knew how much I really loved her even though I showed her nothing but disdain. I feel like I should be one of Keith Oblermann's "Worst Person in the World" cameos.
"Losing" the house I grew up in was probably one of the most traumatic experiences of my life so far. Even though the A/C hardly worked in the summer, though the tub was moldy and the shower didn't work, even with the exposed electrical outlets and unfinished exterior, it was home.
Right now, I am the proud owner of my first home. Although I don't currently "live" there due to my work situation, I do go back as much as possible, and it has become sort of a "vacation" home while I live temporarily in an apartment out of town. Still, I am emotionally attached to my house. I have considered selling it to loosen up some money each month, but I am fortunately in a position where I don't need to sell it or even rent it out. So far, I am one of the lucky people who can keep my home... and it's sad that we now live in an America where people who can keep their homes can be described as "lucky."
Still, when I consider selling it, I confront an emotional reaction saying no, this is your first house, think of this memory, and this one, and that one. Also I know that somewhere deep down inside, I don't want to sell my first house because it brings back the trauma of "losing" my family's first house. Then again, maybe selling my first house would finally give me the freedom I need from that trauma. I digress.
Regardless, I know what it is like to lose something which has been your rock for years, something which you never imagined you would lose. I know what it is like to have an emotional attachment to a home and the trauma associated with losing that home. I have not had to experience the shame and bewilderment associated with foreclosure, but I can imagine that only confounds the terrible trauma of losing a home.
So when I filled in my absentee ballot, the choice was clear. Who had connected with me on a human level? Who did I feel had the best chance of keeping others in their homes, so that their children would not have to experience the loss of their homes like I did? Who will make my story their narrative: not "Joe the Plumber"--but "Josh the Engineer"--who was the first child in his family to graduate from college and buy his own home? You see, without using my name, Obama already has.
I have never been so proud to vote for a candidate in my life, and I pray that he wins and proves me a wise person and proves that my tears of hope are not in vain.
As an aside, I can understand why someone wouldn't vote for Obama on the issues, for example if they understand yet still disagree with his tax plan, or his healthcare plan, or if they are uncomfortable with his relatively brief executive resume (although they should also take issue with Palin in that regard and consider Biden's balancing effect).
I don't understand how anyone can hate Obama because of the color of his skin. Of course, I didn't grow up in a generation that thought like that in general. I was shocked when I discovered--in history class--that slavery had ended barely a century and a half before, that segregation had ended less than three decades before my birth. I wasn't raised with the idea that anyone is less than anyone else, and when I learned about the 3/5 compromise, I was horrified.
Like Obama's, my grandma did grow up in that generation. Although I disagreed with her on some of her views, it didn't define her and it didn't make me love her any less. I understood that was part of the culture and generation she grew up in.
Fortunately, things are changing. And if there is a heaven--where racism should not exist--I pray that my grandmother will watch over Obama and protect him from those who still harbor such senseless hatred on this earthly plane.