convention

I've been avoiding politics lately, and eschewed with a vengeance this year's Democratic convention. Out of laziness, out of solitude (it's just not as much fun to watch this kind of stuff alone), out of 2004's heartbreak and the fear of having that heartbreak repeated.

But I was told in no uncertain terms Thursday night by an old friend that I damned well better get my act together and watch Obama. For the history of the moment, for the passion, for, if nothing else, the excitement and boosting the number of viewers, to add one more to the 34 million.

So I did. And was moved beyond words, not so much by the specifics of what Obama said (I've been, if not passionately, at least pretty solidly, in his camp for awhile now), but by the unavoidable sense of witnessing a truly historical moment. A black man, here in this land of slavery and civil war, of the KKK and freedom riders and the long, drawn-out fight for civil rights, more than four decades later, accepting his party's nomination for the presidency of the United States of America.

Yesterday, the day after this moment, I spent a little while avoiding work and reading up on the country's reaction, and was moved all over again to realize anew that not only am I not alone in feeling this way, but that even my own reaction is peripheral compared to so many Americans' experience of this moment.

Even if we fail, come November, to win back the White House, we will have had Thursday night. But even this atheist is praying that this is not the case. And I think McCain's VP pick probably helped us out, much as I admire Sarah Palin's choice in eyewear.