The Evening After The Late Night Before: The Knee-Jerk

Well, I went to sleep at 05:20 this morning, only to get up and do a day's work on nothing but coffee and white choc & raspberry cookies... and wrote the following in Starbucks at lunchtime:

*
It is Bonfire Night tonight, that night where Britain burns effigies and sets off fireworks in grateful thanks for killing some Papists 500 years ago. It's supposed to be 'gladness that the King wasn't blown up along with half of London' but that wasn't actually the point then or really now. At least now it's just about fireworks and not solely about killing Papists. Never my favourite day, you know?

So, it's really strange that the world is different today. Or at least, it's meant to be different - it looks the same to me. In ten, twenty, thirty years time, if my as-yet-unborn godchildren, nieces and nephews ask, I can tell them that I stayed awake all night to watch America change. I can tell them that I spoke online to friends in Australia and different parts of America, people who see the world differently and maybe voted differently but respected and liked each other for it. I can tell them that I let a couple of tears slip down my face when the TV showed Jesse Jackson (that lauded, vilified man of politics who was standing next to Dr King when he was murdered) weeping when Barack Obama won. I will tell them that I was cynical all night but allowed myself to be swept up in the hope and by Obama's poetic oration, grounded as it was in the terrible, difficult current reality. I'll tell those children that although McCain was a gracious loser, some of his supporters were not. I'll tell them that in contrast, Obama's supporters seemed by and large to be gracious winners.

I'll tell those currently hypothetical children that I allowed myself to be glad, so very glad, but that I couldn't help but be worried that it could all still go to hell. After all, if Obama fucks up, he won't just annoy and anger people as Bush has: he'll break their hearts. I'll tell them that Obama finally got me by referencing Sam Cooke, a great and occasionally forgotten giant of music who took control of his own music and destiny and so changed the world in his way.

I'll tell them that the 'Yes We Can' call and response sounded a bit Nurembergish in Grant Park, but that another fine black man changed the world in his own sometimes subtle ways with the same sentiment: Sammy Davis Jr, who forced bigoted people to accept him by just being the very best at his job.

While I'm at it, I'll tell them about Nat King Cole, who fought bigotry and hate in his own, private way and that although his TV show was cancelled after one season, it was shown in the first place. And Lena Horne, who refused to perform at an army show during the war when white POWs were seated in front of black GIs.

I'll tell them, of course, about Philip Lynott, who was mixed race like Barack and who rose to the heights of his chosen career by being brilliant, like Barack, and who rose above the petty triviality of skin colour in the process.

Then I'll tell them that for each of those people, there are at least another million who did their bit to erode and destroy bigotry and narrowmindedness, the people of quiet dignity who prove bigotry of all shades is, and must be, the exception and not the rule.

I'll tell them with tears in my eyes about who I knew Obama was special when I saw that he energised and inspired 'real' 'ordinary' people in the same way Bobby Kennedy did forty years earlier: with truth and hope, with unifty not division. I'll tell them that I never expected the US to produce another person to fill Bobby's shoes, but that Obama felt like it at long last.

I'll tell them that a dream and a vision were murdered with Bobby at the now-demolished Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, but that dreams can rise like phoenixes if they're not forgotten... and that I stayed away to see this new phoenix take its first, nervous flight.

Most of all, I'll tell them that skin colour is so trivial a concern when measured against a person's honour, character and ability... and that this day, no matter what comes next, is the proof.

The Evening After The Late Night Before: The Knee-Jerk

Well, I went to sleep at 05:20 this morning, only to get up and do a day's work on nothing but coffee and white choc & raspberry cookies... and wrote the following in Starbucks at lunchtime:

*
It is Bonfire Night tonight, that night where Britain burns effigies and sets off fireworks in grateful thanks for killing some Papists 500 years ago. It's supposed to be 'gladness that the King wasn't blown up along with half of London' but that wasn't actually the point then or really now. At least now it's just about fireworks and not solely about killing Papists. Never my favourite day, you know?

So, it's really strange that the world is different today. Or at least, it's meant to be different - it looks the same to me. In ten, twenty, thirty years time, if my as-yet-unborn godchildren, nieces and nephews ask, I can tell them that I stayed awake all night to watch America change. I can tell them that I spoke online to friends in Australia and different parts of America, people who see the world differently and maybe voted differently but respected and liked each other for it. I can tell them that I let a couple of tears slip down my face when the TV showed Jesse Jackson (that lauded, vilified man of politics who was standing next to Dr King when he was murdered) weeping when Barack Obama won. I will tell them that I was cynical all night but allowed myself to be swept up in the hope and by Obama's poetic oration, grounded as it was in the terrible, difficult current reality. I'll tell those children that although McCain was a gracious loser, some of his supporters were not. I'll tell them that in contrast, Obama's supporters seemed by and large to be gracious winners.

I'll tell those currently hypothetical children that I allowed myself to be glad, so very glad, but that I couldn't help but be worried that it could all still go to hell. After all, if Obama fucks up, he won't just annoy and anger people as Bush has: he'll break their hearts. I'll tell them that Obama finally got me by referencing Sam Cooke, a great and occasionally forgotten giant of music who took control of his own music and destiny and so changed the world in his way.

I'll tell them that the 'Yes We Can' call and response sounded a bit Nurembergish in Grant Park, but that another fine black man changed the world in his own sometimes subtle ways with the same sentiment: Sammy Davis Jr, who forced bigoted people to accept him by just being the very best at his job.

While I'm at it, I'll tell them about Nat King Cole, who fought bigotry and hate in his own, private way and that although his TV show was cancelled after one season, it was shown in the first place. And Lena Horne, who refused to perform at an army show during the war when white POWs were seated in front of black GIs.

I'll tell them, of course, about Philip Lynott, who was mixed race like Barack and who rose to the heights of his chosen career by being brilliant, like Barack, and who rose above the petty triviality of skin colour in the process.

Then I'll tell them that for each of those people, there are at least another million who did their bit to erode and destroy bigotry and narrowmindedness, the people of quiet dignity who prove bigotry of all shades is, and must be, the exception and not the rule.

I'll tell them with tears in my eyes about who I knew Obama was special when I saw that he energised and inspired 'real' 'ordinary' people in the same way Bobby Kennedy did forty years earlier: with truth and hope, with unifty not division. I'll tell them that I never expected the US to produce another person to fill Bobby's shoes, but that Obama felt like it at long last.

I'll tell them that a dream and a vision were murdered with Bobby at the now-demolished Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, but that dreams can rise like phoenixes if they're not forgotten... and that I stayed away to see this new phoenix take its first, nervous flight.

Most of all, I'll tell them that skin colour is so trivial a concern when measured against a person's honour, character and ability... and that this day, no matter what comes next, is the proof.