Waiting on the world to change

Today is amazing. It's not often that one can consciously be part of a historic moment in time. As a historian, that is beyond mind-blowing.

I went to vote at our township building first thing this morning, stood in line for a merciful 35 minutes, ran into all kinds of neighbors and acquaintances. Even though we're in an unincorporated area, it felt like a cozy small town. Everyone greeted those they knew warmly, and an undercurrent of excitement made all the standing around worthwhile.

Even though the people in line with me were voting for different candidates, it really felt like we were all together, hanging on this precipice in time, using our voices, hoping and praying for a change that will turn this free-falling country around. Hoping that whichever candidate's oval we blackened would help our future. Instead of feeling like we're fighting over control of our battleground state, it felt like we were all striving toward a common purpose, and that each action by each one of us was tremendously important.

We Democrats are hoping the third time is the charm. I remember that tumultuous election in 2000; DH and I had been married a year, and we'd just moved into our first house in DC. We sat up for hours as the pundits tried to figure out the whole Florida thing and couldn't. We went to bed thinking there would be answers in the morning, and when we got up nobody knew the answers. And then the waiting went on for weeks, and the bad partisan feelings surfaced and exploded as the election spiraled into a debacle.

In 2004, we'd just moved here, with Melrose approaching her first birthday. We stood in line for over an hour each to cast our ballots, grousing about the inconvenience, but realizing fully how critical it was. (We actually got off pretty easy on the waiting, unlike the record-breakers of Gambier, Ohio). Again we sat up late watching the returns, again it was too close to call that night, but the end came much more quickly. And again, at least to us, it sucked.

Today really felt promising and empowering, and that things were already changing for the better. As I stood in line and a young woman ahead of me approached the registration table, one of the poll workers called out "New voter!" The entire room cheered. I felt light and optimistic and on the brink as I left the township building and headed to work. Having finally done my civic duty after all this waiting was a relief. I don't think anyone got much done today, myself included. Around midafternoon my colleague in another office e-mailed me that she was itching to go home. I too felt like climbing the walls, ready for the day to end and the polls to close so we could settle in and watch the results.

So now, as we've done the last two times, DH and I are planted on the sofa in front of the TV for our third presidential election night. We've driven past other polling places where people are spooled around the building in patient, umbrella-wielding lines, and marveled at the determination driving people out of the woodwork to vote. We're glad we did what we needed to do this morning, and that it's all out of our hands now. We're watching and waiting for the answers, and praying they will come sooner and be more definitive. They're already calling Pennsylvania for Obama, and that makes me so proud, and so encouraged.

And all day I've had John Mayer stuck in my head:

One day our generation
Is gonna rule the population
So we keep on waiting, waiting on the world to change

I recall hanging out on Friday nights

A-squared: Mazel tov and bon voyage!!

Sorry to be AWOL from blogging and thus becoming my own pet peeve: people who start a blog and then stop posting. Getting slammed with five projects in three states simultaneously at work and then having your coworker leave and dump still more on you, while your preschooler is going through intense separation anxiety, you're making extensive and complicated sartorial preparations to be in a friend's wedding, and you're still dumb enough to plan and host a party at home for over 50 people, will eliminate most of one's spare time. So the wedding is over (it was great), the party is over (also great), and the work overload and separation anxiety go on.

So I finally got to return to my former hometown of 6-ish years last week while doing research in DC. I've been back twice before to visit friends and hit a restaurant or two, but never by myself (or with enough lack of chaos to ponder how it feels). DH, saint that he is, scored me probably the only hotel room under $150 west of Connecticut Avenue. I must admit it was delightful but rather surreal staying in Bethesda as a visitor instead of as a resident. Things haven't changed a whole lot in 3 years, but experiencing it as a visitor was a new twist. At first I was having trouble fighting the speed demons on the Beltway and remembering where things were (although spending 9 straight hours at Archives II with little food or drink probably didn't help). But once I set foot on the Metro escalator the next morning, eager for a reunion with my favorite mass-transit system of all time, I was back to local mode, mentally contemptuous of anyone who wasn't standing to the right or walking to the left or otherwise getting out of my way.

I do have a snarky bone to pick with Metro. First of all, changing the platform-floor lights in certain stations from white to red clashes SO badly with the terra-cotta floor tile, I almost wish I was red-green color-blind. Secondly, they got rid of the familar "Doors closing! (ding-dong)" announcement in favor of a more hostile "Step back! Doors are closing!" The woman's voice sounds like she's scolding someone for trying to grope her. No fondling the doors, you stupid tourists!

It was fun but I don't want to move back. For one thing, the humidity was hellacious, way worse than I remembered. For another, the traffic is still beyond ridiculous. Pennsylvania is definitely a kinder, gentler place in both regards, as long as you avoid the Schuylkill. I mean, people up here actually let you merge!

Moving on to my usual lack of tasteful subject matter: I was so excited the other day to browse through the mail and find a magazine with a cover teaser for something like “the ultimate guide to burping.” Finally! Even those of us with demonstrated belching skills could always use a little brush-up, especially if such skills have lain largely dormant due to 1. lack of the proper carbonated beverage, 2. being surrounded almost entirely by people who either don’t find burping funny or people for whom you don’t want to set a bad example, and 3. having to be, like, ya know, grownup and professional in most company.

Then I looked a little closer at the magazine. It was Parents magazine. With a fake Shrek-themed ogre cover spread advertisement flap, covering the real cover with its usual cutesy styling. No burping article! And even if there had been a burping article, it would have been pertinent only to coaxing one out of your infant, not yourself. Dang those advertising people!