Prospect Park, 11:12 p.m., November 4, 2008. From our top-floor window, I lean out into the balmy night. Soundscape: From every perimeter of the park, cheers float up like chords of distant music. I see no one, but I hear firecrackers, car horns, whistles, cries of raw joy, not just a few noisy parties, but dense and haunting interwoven layers of sound, faint but resonant. My personal travails with this candidate's position on issues close to my heart must be put aside for now, for this is not the time or the place. The hair rises on the back of my neck, and tears fill my eyes, as I gaze over what once were fields where slaves toiled for their Dutch masters.
The last time I heard cries of joy break out in the street in response to broadcast news, it was for the O.J. verdict, and my heart sank. Now, instead of hailing an unrepentant thug, the voices of Brooklyn--black to the east, white to the west, and everything in between--mingle in the night sky for a man who promises, who seems to personify, hope and change.
May it be so, and may God bless President-Elect Barack Obama.
You wrote it so much better than I did, Thank you
http://whatyourdonotknowbecauseyouarenotme.blogspot.com/2008/11/it-is-1137pm-on-election-night.html
Posted by: Michael | November 05, 2008 at 06:30 AM