Miracle in a far away land

On my Wednesday I had a meeting in town. I woke up and thought, “people are voting now.” I walked the kids to school thinking, “people are voting.” I took the train into my meeting. People in lines, at voting machines, making phone calls. Voting voting voting. Who were they voting for??

We had arranged to watch the election results together at the pub in the village because a) I don’t have a TV and b) I wanted to be around other people. Melissa and the kids and I would be there, Rob would pop in from his job at the deli across the street, and Michael would join us when he got home from work. And so it was that I was there on my own, anxious, waiting for the kids to walk there from school and Melissa to show up from work. And there, at a table in an empty pub, I first saw Obama take Pennsylvania. I was surprised at the surge of emotion, at hot and unexpected tears. Here I was, alone in this bar, crying at the television.

The kids arrived, barefooted in the kiwi style, and Melissa blew in with Ohio. I ran across the street to update Rob, and realised that I didn’t want to be spending the most important election of my life as one of four people who cared about what was going on. When the TV news cut to pictures of Americans at the US Embassy election night party, I told Melissa and my kids that we were heading to Wellington. After some convincing, I scooted the rest of the group out the door. Melissa ran to get her daughter from a friend’s house; we headed to the train.

Little did we know that the train that leaves just after 4pm leaves at 4.04 rather than 4.08 (all the other trains leave at eight minutes after the hour). And so we raced for the train, and missed it by a breath. Until that minute, watching the train chug away and learning that the next one wouldn’t be there for 45 minutes, I hadn’t known how desperate I was to be near other people who cared as much as I did about the hoped-for election of the most exciting politician of my time. The weight of my loneliness in a country on the other side of the world from those voting pulled at me; I put my head in my hands and cried.

I wasn’t alone, though, and Melissa, who saw how important this was to me, piled us into her car and south we went, towards the embassy that would let me be with my people.

Or perhaps not. Michael called to tell us the news. Five minutes ahead of us, he had gone to the embassy party and been turned away. You had to have tickets. “Aren’t our accents tickets enough?” I asked. Nope. We met in the lobby outside the embassy party to regroup. A friendly New Zealander at the door smiled at my Obama button and asked us what we were doing.

”I’m wanting to be in a room filled with cheering Americans on this amazing night,” I told him.

“Well that room up there isn’t for you,” he said in hushed tones. “That’s a political event, lots of Kiwis and political folks. Not much cheering. What you want is the Democrats Abroad party at the Irish Pub on Cuba St. That’s where you’ll get your cheering Americans!”

We thanked him and headed up to Cuba St. where the red, white, and blue balloons marked the pub. Inside, it was bedlam. I stood inside the doorway, blinking to adjust my eyes to the dark and then, with a glimpse at the TV, to adjust my heart to the light. CNN had just projected an Obama win. I was in a room filled with Obama signs, with Kiwis and Americans eating and drinking and smiling at the TV. There were occasional yells as another state was called for Obama and then another. This is what I wanted, this communion of passionate people. This was my place.

The night is a blur punctuated by images I may well never forget. Watching McCain’s speech and hearing the cheers at his admission of his defeat and the silence in the room when he told us that America was the greatest country on the earth. This room full of people living in New Zealand had no interest in interacting with that statement, and there were low murmurs in response. There was the breathtaking moment when President-elect Obama (those, by the way, are currently my three favourite words to string together) took to the stage. There was Aidan, delighted with the Obama win, who really came to life with the promise of a puppy. “There’s going to be a puppy in the White House?” he asked There was the hugging afterward, everyone weeping, all of us overcome with the beauty of the moment and the magnificent possibility of the future.

Afterwards I realised who I was missing the very most, even in this room so perfectly filled with celebrating people. I called my dear friend Mark, with whom I had taught about race again and again, with whom I had talked through issues around this election and the new possibility of the world. He answered the phone from a crowd.

”Mark, this is your congratulations call from New Zealand!” I said into the phone.

“I can’t hear you!” he shouted

“MARK, this is a celebration on the other side of the world, in New Zealand!”

“Sorry! It’s too loud here and I can’t hear anything.”

“MARK!” I said, yelling into the phone, “IT’S JENNIFER IN NEW ZEALAND!”

“JEEENNNIFEEER!” he howled. “Oh Jennifer! BABY IT’S A MIRACLE!”

And I wept again to hear his joy, and to hear joyful yelling on the streets of Washington DC, where my dear friend and thousands of other celebrating people had wandered to the White House to mark the change.

Four years ago, I found myself nearly constantly in tears after the last election. I would be sitting at dinner and suddenly realise my cheeks were wet. Michael thought I was frightening the children, which was probably true. I had it bad.

This week, I find myself bursting into smiles without knowing that I’m thinking about President-elect Obama. And when I think about that beautiful family moving into the White House, when I think of those girls—my kids’ ages—and their fantastic mother and their new puppy, my eyes fill with tears again. These are not Bush tears, though. These are the tears that are about pride in my country, hope about what might come next, joy over a barrier that was knocked down decisively.

Here in New Zealand, we’ve just had an election today. Here my party didn’t win. Tomorrow I’ll deal with what that means. Tonight though again I’ll go to bed smiling. President-elect Obama. Welcome to the rekindling of the American dream.