I was living in Washington eight years ago when Bush was inaugurated for his first term. It was one of the most upsetting and disturbing days I can remember, how down to the very details it was like a cinema director's impression of the forces of evil taking over the world. The freezing drizzle of that grey day, the dispirited protesters who gathered in Dupont Circle and sullenly marched toward some vague point near the parade route. Through the night, the city was full of coaches carrying hillbillies who thought it was very funny to wear cowboy boots with tuxedos from one ball to another. It was like a gang of fat Visigoths and their plastic-haired wives had taken over the capital.
I kept reminding myself that it wouldn't be that bad, that it couldn't be that bad. America is a land of political compromise and balance, after all. But for eight long years, it proved to be worse than anything anyone could have imagined. Each unspooling catastrophe and outrage was followed by something even worse.
I would very much like to be there today when it all comes to an end. Mostly for personal reasons, not really related to the moment -- that I had an up-close seat at the horror, I'd like to have a look at what I hope will be its exact opposite. But my life is different now. Much has happened in those eight years, and now here in Williamstown, with my family, my work, I have that "my back pages" feeling. In spite of everything Bush and his cronies did, I don't think it took anything away from the joy I felt at my wedding, or when I met my daughter.
And nothing Obama will do, for good or ill, will really change my world at a certain level either. Don't get me wrong. I can't think about this past election, and the gravity of this moment, without getting that feeling of words failing me, and with a rising flush of pride and joy that these American ideals are bright and true. But as Obama himself would be the first to tell you, these pretty thoughts are good and all, but not enough. As the Beatles put it, "the movement you need is on your shoulders."
I kept reminding myself that it wouldn't be that bad, that it couldn't be that bad. America is a land of political compromise and balance, after all. But for eight long years, it proved to be worse than anything anyone could have imagined. Each unspooling catastrophe and outrage was followed by something even worse.
I would very much like to be there today when it all comes to an end. Mostly for personal reasons, not really related to the moment -- that I had an up-close seat at the horror, I'd like to have a look at what I hope will be its exact opposite. But my life is different now. Much has happened in those eight years, and now here in Williamstown, with my family, my work, I have that "my back pages" feeling. In spite of everything Bush and his cronies did, I don't think it took anything away from the joy I felt at my wedding, or when I met my daughter.
And nothing Obama will do, for good or ill, will really change my world at a certain level either. Don't get me wrong. I can't think about this past election, and the gravity of this moment, without getting that feeling of words failing me, and with a rising flush of pride and joy that these American ideals are bright and true. But as Obama himself would be the first to tell you, these pretty thoughts are good and all, but not enough. As the Beatles put it, "the movement you need is on your shoulders."
