Even though I've never been a political person by nature, I attended the Democratic National Convention in Denver this week. For me, it was a chance to actively participate in a historic moment. Of course, it didn't hurt that there were parties galore and men for days, but we'll have to talk about that later. :)
Anyway, I have to say I've never been more moved in all my life. Being in Denver exposed me to a whole new world, and I loved it. It was wonderful to see all those Black men in suits. Whether they were legendary or just legends in their own minds, they walked with a confidence and swagger that brothers in baggy jeans and Timbs could never duplicate.
Plus, I loved being around progressive people who don't just talk the talk. They actually walk the walk. These are folks who want to make a change in their communities, and take the necessary steps to do so. While public service and civic duty have never been aspirations of mine, I was glad to be exposed to it.
The evening that Barack spoke was absolutely magical. Yes, it was hot. Yes, we had to walk almost two miles to make it to the field. But please know and trust, I wouldn't have missed it for the world. I won't bore you with the details of us thinking we had tickets, the ticket connection falling through, and us having to call on every resource known unto man to get into the venue. All I can say is that the relief I felt after we made it to Invesco Field was genuine.
It felt good to be surrounded by so many people who felt like I did about Barack. Naturally, the man was his usual brilliant self, and he made several very good points. If you missed the speech, make sure you go to C-Span's website to check it out.
Because of the haphazard way we got our tickets, my friends and I didn't get to sit together. I was with my DJ friend, Tiff sat with our new friend from Arkansas, and both of our glamorous friends sat alone. It was probably best that way because I was a complete mess. I cried from the time I got in the stadium until the speech was over.
Why would I cry at a time like that? First of all, crying is a habit that I've never had the strength to break. Let's face it, some of my friends call me Waterworks because of the way I tear up. And this moment was special to me. It was miraculous to see people of all colors, all creeds, and all walks of life celebrate a Black man in America. When you grow up in the Dirty South, there are certain things you just don't think you'll see. A Black presidential nominee is one.
I remember when I heard Barack's keynote address at the 2004 Democratic National Convention. He was so eloquent and impressive that I said to myself, "Who IS this man?" The thought that kept running through my mind was that he had the same kind of charm and charisma that Bill Clinton had. Man, I thought to myself, if the Democrats had someone like him running for office, they'd surely win.
When the primary season started, I never saw this moment coming. I didn't know if the country was ready to accept a White woman or a Black man. In all actuality, I thought John Edwards was going to take it all.
Fast forward to now. On the 40th anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.'s I Have a Dream speech, Barack Obama became the official presidential nominee for the Democratic party. The significance of the moment was not lost on me.
Another reason I wept was for my family -- both natural and extended. My mother and my uncle both grew up in the segregated Jim Crow South. My grandmother, who has taken her leave of us, was the grandchild of former slaves. And here I was, the product of all of them, participating in the most historical moment of my young life. What made me so special that God would allow me to be there? Even though I know that His thoughts are above our thoughts, it's still some heady stuff to process.
I have to tell you, I was crying so hard that I caught the attention of a young lady in the row in front of me. When it was over, she approached me to ask me my name and tell me that she'd recorded my reactions for her live blog. As we chatted, I told her about my humble existence in the blogosphere. Well, it turns out that she'd discovered me a few weeks ago. The thought of someone reading my scattered musings and finding them significant enough to remember them jump-started my tears all over again.
All in all, I have to say I'm glad I went. Denver was lovely, the people were friendly, and I learned a lot. It was very cool experience, and I'm thankful to have participated in history.
Anyway, I have to say I've never been more moved in all my life. Being in Denver exposed me to a whole new world, and I loved it. It was wonderful to see all those Black men in suits. Whether they were legendary or just legends in their own minds, they walked with a confidence and swagger that brothers in baggy jeans and Timbs could never duplicate.
Plus, I loved being around progressive people who don't just talk the talk. They actually walk the walk. These are folks who want to make a change in their communities, and take the necessary steps to do so. While public service and civic duty have never been aspirations of mine, I was glad to be exposed to it.
The evening that Barack spoke was absolutely magical. Yes, it was hot. Yes, we had to walk almost two miles to make it to the field. But please know and trust, I wouldn't have missed it for the world. I won't bore you with the details of us thinking we had tickets, the ticket connection falling through, and us having to call on every resource known unto man to get into the venue. All I can say is that the relief I felt after we made it to Invesco Field was genuine.
It felt good to be surrounded by so many people who felt like I did about Barack. Naturally, the man was his usual brilliant self, and he made several very good points. If you missed the speech, make sure you go to C-Span's website to check it out.
Because of the haphazard way we got our tickets, my friends and I didn't get to sit together. I was with my DJ friend, Tiff sat with our new friend from Arkansas, and both of our glamorous friends sat alone. It was probably best that way because I was a complete mess. I cried from the time I got in the stadium until the speech was over.
Why would I cry at a time like that? First of all, crying is a habit that I've never had the strength to break. Let's face it, some of my friends call me Waterworks because of the way I tear up. And this moment was special to me. It was miraculous to see people of all colors, all creeds, and all walks of life celebrate a Black man in America. When you grow up in the Dirty South, there are certain things you just don't think you'll see. A Black presidential nominee is one.
I remember when I heard Barack's keynote address at the 2004 Democratic National Convention. He was so eloquent and impressive that I said to myself, "Who IS this man?" The thought that kept running through my mind was that he had the same kind of charm and charisma that Bill Clinton had. Man, I thought to myself, if the Democrats had someone like him running for office, they'd surely win.
When the primary season started, I never saw this moment coming. I didn't know if the country was ready to accept a White woman or a Black man. In all actuality, I thought John Edwards was going to take it all.
Fast forward to now. On the 40th anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.'s I Have a Dream speech, Barack Obama became the official presidential nominee for the Democratic party. The significance of the moment was not lost on me.
Another reason I wept was for my family -- both natural and extended. My mother and my uncle both grew up in the segregated Jim Crow South. My grandmother, who has taken her leave of us, was the grandchild of former slaves. And here I was, the product of all of them, participating in the most historical moment of my young life. What made me so special that God would allow me to be there? Even though I know that His thoughts are above our thoughts, it's still some heady stuff to process.
I have to tell you, I was crying so hard that I caught the attention of a young lady in the row in front of me. When it was over, she approached me to ask me my name and tell me that she'd recorded my reactions for her live blog. As we chatted, I told her about my humble existence in the blogosphere. Well, it turns out that she'd discovered me a few weeks ago. The thought of someone reading my scattered musings and finding them significant enough to remember them jump-started my tears all over again.
All in all, I have to say I'm glad I went. Denver was lovely, the people were friendly, and I learned a lot. It was very cool experience, and I'm thankful to have participated in history.
Comments
I'm also glad that we all were able to go to the DNC through you. Thanks for sharing.
Here are the links I told you about.
Check out www.statcounter.com and/or http://feedjit.com/
They are both free and easy to use.
Oh yes, check out www.googleanalytics.com as well.
Peace and love,
B