Part I: Background to Inaugural Poem for Obama by Ssal

Click here for An Open Letter to President Obama.

This Inaugural Poem was written in November 2012 (before the presidential election and revised since) in honor of President Obama's Inauguration January 21, 2013.

***Newer: I have finished reformatting the inaugural poem's stanzas so that they read better. Also improved the rhythm, meter, and rhyme by 35%. The spacing converts all funky with HTML when you're not an expert. Trying to pin down the formatting, spacing (spaces, space before and after lines, between paragraphs, all very important for the look and read of a poem, I could go on for hours on spacing and love E.E. Cummings) is like trying to scratch a moving itch!*** 

**Posted a copy (whose spacing hopefully stays put!) on Amazon, entitled "An Inaugural Poem for President Barack Obama" or click here to go to Amazon directly without passing go!

Okay, folks, as usual, I don't set out to write anything. It just writes me. After weeks of being an election junkie, reading, watching, breathing in all things election, especially the polls that came out each morning (I would stay up all night to hit the refresh button on Real Clear Politics as they uploaded the new polls in real time. They were the usually the first to publish an election poll (Rasmussen was so bias for the Republicans and okay, ABC was probably leaning toward the liberals). Anyway, all those news stories, videos I would watch made me start dreaming election. Really. I tossed and turned after the first presidential debate because I couldn’t sit still during the slight fiasco. I was like: “Obama, wake up! Don’t you know some people vote based on who they’d rather have a beer with? How do you think Gore lost? (Besides the fault of the Supreme Court and Kennedy, of course!)

If you haven't read it yet, it's posted immediately below or here is the link to: An Inaugural Poem by Ssal Nogard. I am still deciding on a name, any suggestions? Please email me! Remember to "like it" on Facebook even if you don't like it!

Oh yeah, if you didn't catch my somewhat satirical poem for Mitt Romney, A Tale of Two Romneys, and accompanying Literary Critique For Dummies, er, I mean Literary Critique BY Dummies, here's a chance to catch up!

Still writing…updating soon…Remember to forward this link to your Facebook Friends, many thanks!

I'm back! Had to grab a bite to eat; I work best on a full stomach!

So, after weeks of election dreaming, I started to get a phrase turning in my head--it wouldn’t go away!--over and over again until scribbled down some notes. It was an image of a hand being held out and some words: “Will you go with me…” and “will you go with fate…?” I don’t know if those two questions meant the same thing or if they were contradictory, dunno, but then the rhythm got stuck in my head: “Will you go with me, he said, or will you go with fate?” Whoah. I was in trouble now.

“Will you go with me,” he said, “or will you go with fate?”

So I gulped, and I said, “I will go with you, whoever you are!” But by this time I sorta’ figured that it was Obama’s hand that was extended out to me. It’s a very elegant hand, with long, fine fingers, if you have never noticed, lol! For real! Take a peek: Photo of Pres Obama's hands typing #My2k answers @ whitehouse: http://pic.twitter.com/DhsfAN1b. And then, and then, there appeared before me as the mists of my mind started to recede, a road, I supposed because the question asked about “going” with someone so a road makes sense. But it was a long road and I couldn’t see to the end, so trite and symbolic, you say. I agree. There’s nothing new about standing and looking at a lot of roads, trying to choose the best one to take.

In my inaugural poem, the “many roads both left and right” (see infra) refer to conservatives and liberals. “They wound among themselves before me” represents the tug-of-war of both parties but at the same time the fact that some ideologies are the same, social Libertarian and Democratic views, or fiscal Republican and Libertarian views.

One evening I stood facing

                              many roads both left and right.

They wound among themselves before me

                                         with the pending night.

I peered closely but could not see

                                  the path that each road ran.

Only that each path rose to

                               its neighboring distant height.

“Each path rose to its neighboring distant height” reflects that no matter which party is in the White House or controls Congress, America still has done pretty well for herself!

The next section, delineated by my usual asterisk and squiggly symbols begins the journey (oh no, not another poem about a journey!) The hand extended is George Washington, who has the face of Battle and Destiny. And no, he wasn’t full of hate; I just mean that there are a bunch of ideas, thoughts, and feelings that a President represents in a diverse country. Since Washington was a great warrior and also didn’t want to be King of the World, I refer to him as the “Gentle Giant”.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I stepped forward pressed by voices

                                    that refused to wait.

And saw a hand extended filled

                          with lines of love and hate.

I looked up into the face of Battle

                                          and of Destiny.

“Will you come with me,” He said,

                          “or will you go with Fate?”

The laughter of Ben Frank is, of course, Benjamin Franklin, Renaissance Man extraordinaire, inventor of the bifocals, harnessing electricity from lightning, and wrote a ton of famous quotes that I resented growing up, such as “The early bird gets the worm.” Turns my stomach every time I hear it. Also, humble enough not to be president ‘cause everyone knows he could’ve in a heartbeat if he had wanted to, he was so popular. Thom J. is Thomas Jefferson, another uber-enlightened American who wrote some awesome stuff, like the Declaration of Independence, which I loved memorizing in grade school.

I took the Gentle Giant’s hand

                                 and stepped through the hazy gray,

and thought I heard the laughter

                       of Ben Frank and Thom J. along the way.

Taking the Washington's hand after he asks whether I will follow him means that everyone had faith in George Washington, the only president to ever win 100% of electoral votes. Of course, no one opposed him for president. With Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson nearby, who wouldn't have faith that America was on the right path to greatness?

The “two terms” refers to the fact that George Washington stepped down from office after only two terms, heretofore something unheard of when he could have been King of the World forever. A great precedent for most progressive nations in the modern world. With forefathers like these, who wouldn't have faith in America's future?

After two terms we met a fork

                           that ran red along both roads.

On each side were countless voices

                                          pressing me to stay.

The fork means that the country is started to shift toward two distinct ideologies and preferences. The red foreshadows the American Civil War. The “countless voices” are those that warn against the cost of war.

The gentle giant nudged me forward

                                        and warned me not to wait.

I stumbled along the reddened roads

                                Both marked with love and hate.

Ahead I saw a face whose hair

                               was ruddy from the roads.

The ruddy face is Abraham Lincoln’s, who was a redhead, Celtic features. “No sooner than I took his hand, then he was gone again,” is a reference to his assassination. President Lincoln preferred to be kind to the South during Reconstruction, but after he was assassinated, the Northern Congressmen beat down hard on the South. (Gone with the Wind is a nice story.) Lincoln said, “I have always found that mercy bears greater fruits than strict justice.” (see New Lyrics to Led Zeppelin's Houses of the Holy (Congratulations on being honored at the Kennedy Center!))

His hand held out to hasten me

                                      before I was too late.

No sooner than I took his hand,

                                 then He was gone again.

Again, I take his hand because Lincoln was another president who many placed their faith in because he made the right decisions to the hard choices.

'Kay, gotta' take a break. Time for dinner and I haven't even had lunch! BRB....

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Part IV Explanatory Notes, Meaning Behind Inaugural Poem

Here is a link at TeacherVision to Other Inaugural Poems from great poets like Robert Frost for J.F.K. and Maya Angelou for  B.O., yeah!

The Huffington Post compares past Inaugural Poems

MyInaugural Poem for President Obama on Amazon Be the First to Buy it, (however dubious a distinction!)

What I Said When I saw Salvador Dali's Metamorphosis of Narcissus

Princess Boo Wakes Up on the Wrong Side of the Bed

An Inaugural Poem for President Obama by Ssal Nogard 2012 2013

Click here for An Open Letter to President Obama.

For those of you who read my "Tale of Two Romneys" with accompanying Explanation Notes. I am sentimental and strongly prefer writing uplifting poems! Below, is my inaugural poem for President Obama! I'm writing up my ideas behind this inaugural poem, click here to see how I wove together some visions I had while on Kool Aid j/k!

Here's a link to Other Inaugural Poems, Poets who have read at Presidential Inaugurations: Robert Frost for John F. Kennedy, Miller Williams for Bill Clinton, and Maya Angelou for B.O, yay!

This is something I wrote before the election (yikes! thank goodness I didn't jinx the outcome!) I was sleeping in bed dreaming of Gallup Polls, NBC Polls, Rasmussen Polls, CNN Poll of Polls, oversampling correction methods, how RealClearPolitics updates their website before CNN and how CNN didn't update their election polls on weekends (they call themselves "The Worldwide Leader in News"?), when I was dragged out of bed by some lines running through my head. Didn't really think that I should write this poem until after the election, but it had to come out anyway...Just had a chance to format it. Looking for a font that is more formal and presentation worthy than Arial, Verdana, Trebuchet, but less script than Monotype Corsiva, which is used below. Please let me know if you have any suggestions. Enjoy. =-)

***Generally, I let a poem sit for months or years, revising it until it sounds just so. However, with the Presidential Inauguration coming up in January, it didn't make sense to sit on this until next year. Thus, although I posted this days ago, it has gone through some revisions. Someone told me that my rhyme and rhythm was not up to par with what they are used to, see The Cataracts of Paradise (about the tallest waterfall is in the world). The Cataracts of Iguacu or Iguazu inspired this epic love poem. Back to the subject, so if you come back every now and then, this poem might be even better! The rest of the explanatory notes I hope to have posted by Dec. 11th.

Also, I agree with E.E. Cummings that formatting can be important to a poem. The spacing in my inaugural poem helps the readerknow where to pause on the first read. The formatting converts funky and I haven't been able to perfectly control the look of the poem on this website. I'll try to upload a PDF version if I can ever get it all figured out. Obviously, I am a dinosaur when it comes to computer technology, lol.

As a result of obsessing over the spacing, rhyme, rhythm, and meter, I keep having to upload new versions on Amazon, search for: "An Inaugural Poem for President Barack Obama" or click this link. At least however, the Amazon version maintains the spacing and formatting in the precise manner that actually makes the reading easier and more enjoyable.***

Remember, if you like the poem, reach out and touch someone! If you don't like it, leave a comment!

A Poem Written in Honor of President Barack Obama’s Inauguration 2013

                                       By Ssal Nogard

One evening I stood facing

                              many roads both left and right.

They wound among themselves before me

                                         with the pending night.

I peered closely but could not see

                                  the path that each road ran.

Only that each path rose to

                               its neighboring distant height.

          ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I stepped forward pressed by voices

                                    that refused to wait.

And saw a hand extended filled

                          with lines of love and hate.

I looked up into the face of Battle

                                          and of Destiny.

“Will you come with me,” He said

                          “or will you go with Fate?”

I took the Gentle Giant’s hand

                                 and stepped through the hazy gray,

and thought I heard the laughter

                       of Ben Frank and Thom J. along the way.

After two terms we met a fork

                           that ran red along both roads.

On each side were countless voices

                                          pressing me to stay.

The gentle giant nudged me forward

                                        and warned me not to wait.

I stumbled along the reddened roads

                                Both marked with love and hate.

Ahead I saw a face whose hair

                               was ruddy from the roads.

His hand held out to hasten me

                                      before I was too late.

No sooner did I take his hand,

                                 then He was gone again.

And saw he held me steadfast on

                      the road’s most uncertain bend.

I shifted as one road descended

                                    while the other rose.

On each a Brother thrust out a wound

                      that grew and refused to mend.

Between the roads a woman lay 

                            a blindfolded bound her head.

She lay as if she slumbered through

                                 the blindfold dripping red.

Her scales were of the lightest touch

                                a whisper broke the balance

The slightest swing on either side 

                                 changed who came out ahead.

“There is no justice,” did the Blind Lady

                                       state with Warranty.

“For even with my blindfold 'tis

                                      near impossible to see.

There is no power equal to:

                       the strong who shield the poor.”

And that is the most that justice

                             without sight can guarantee.

                   ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The brothers were bound more tightly

                                        than the many winding roads.

No matter how Great the Burden,

                                      the brothers shared their loads.

Their scars seared brightly to their skin

                                    sewn from each others’ Bondage,

Woven from great Ideas--and lapses--

                                          into canons, laws and codes.

Across the Eastern waters:

                         the New Order was deftly wrought.

Beyond the Western sea:

                       the lands of which our Fathers sought.

But finding Something in between

                                 Our forefathers stopped to rest.

Go West young man, go west,

                  was Then, and Now our greatest thought.

The brothers’ bonds stretched slowly,

                                       yet never did they snap.

They flexed their newfound strength with hands

                             that drew a New World Map.

The bonds broke in striations

                                that kept our voices taut.

Even as it seemed some voices,

                           were still helplessly entrapped.

The voices on each side

                       clamored fiercely to be heard.

Above the din there came a cry

                                   of one solitary word.

The Word was heard by all except

                   to each the sound was different.

Each sister spoke the same word,

                    But the sound still felt absurd.

With His face turned to all roads,

                                   He walked with easy gait

on our winding road that split

                               three dozen times plus eight;

with Bright Eyes and Brighter Smile,

                                      He offered me his hand:

“Will you go with me he,” He asked,

                                 “Or will you go with Fate?”

I took his hand and saw the roads

                           blocked by the Hand of Fate.

On her palm the tears of love

                         drowned out the lines of hate.

The Halls of Justice are not built

                                      within a single day.

With luck their expanse will never end, 

                             Yet United, We can wait.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~

© 2012 by Ssal  Nogard of the CRAZIANS

Four More Years, Yay!

Will be posting a Jack Handy's "Deep Thoughts" Analysis soon. A cannot miss! ;-)

Hey, we got someone on the Continent reading this now. Don't you people ever sleep? lol.

Keep in mind that if you pass this along to your friends and lots of peeps like it, then I might, just might be invited to read this at President Obama's inauguration in January! lulz!

Need an Explanation? What on earth does this poem mean? Click here for Part I!

Part II, Explanation of Inaugural Poem for Obama.

Part III. Author's Notes on Inaugural Poem 2012

Part IV Explanatory Notes, Meaning Behind Inaugural Poem

Friend me on Facebook to get the Inaugural Poem 2013 for Obama out!

Click here to watch Maya Angelou's inaugural poem for Obama in 2008

Click here is Maya's poem.

Some background to Maya Angelou's Inaugural Poem

Here's another inaugural poem by Elizabeth Alexander: Praise Song for the Day

The Huffington Post compares past Inaugural Poems

My Inaugural Poem for President Obama on Amazon. Be the Very SECOND to Buy it, lol!

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MY OTHER WRITINGS:

What I Said When I saw Salvador Dali's Metamorphosis of Narcissus

Metamorphosis of Narcissus by Salvador Dali

PrincessBoo Wakes Up on the Wrong Side of the Bed

Led Zep's Houses of the Holy, A Continuation, Meaning Explained Part I. Sending his Brother Away

Click here for the lyrical poem, "And now Here Comes Michael Walking," that I wrote after listening to Led Zep's Houses of the Holy one too many times late one night when I was cramming for a final exam.

Led Zeppelin's Houses of the Holy

Some people comment that my writing isn't transparent on a first or second (or third read). Here is some explanation of the lyrics that I wrote (that go in time with Led Zeppelin's song), after hearing this song one too many times. After reading these comments and the meaning behind my new lyrics, it might make the reading a little more enjoyable.

After extending the story of Houses of the Holy, which isn't really a story but I made it into one from a few of the catchy phrases in the lyrics, the epic story-poem, call it whatever you want, kept telling itself, so to speak, or so to write.

And yes, I listened to the song the ENTIRE time I was writing the each chapter, which means that I listened to the song a lot!

Remember to read while you are listening to Led Zeppelin's song Houses of the Holy. The beat will make the story that much more fun and readable.

I would like to note that I do not enjoy reading "critiques" or "analysis" of literature before reading anything. However, I did need to read Einstein's notes on his Relativity (the version for the layman, which is really too heavy duty for the layman) and found them useful and necessary, and wished the Maestro had written more, more more! Einstein is Maestro II in my Princess Boo Stories. Maestro I is Newton (or the other way around, I forget).

If you are a Led Zeppelin fan as I am, you no doubt love, luv, l-o-v-e Houses of the Holy. The lyrics are copied below:

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Let me take you to the movies. Can I take you to the show
Let me be yours ever truly. Can I make your garden grow

From the houses of the holy, we can watch the white doves go
From the door comes Satan's daughter, and it only goes to show. You know.

There's an angel on my shoulder, In my hand a sword of gold
Let me wander in your garden. And the seeds of love I'll sow. You know.

So the world is spinning faster. Are you dizzy when you're stoned?
Let the music be your master. Will you heed the master's call
Oh... Satan and man.

Said there ain't no use in crying. Cause it will only, only drive you mad
Does it hurt to hear them lying? Was this the only world you had? Oh-oh

So let me take you, take you to the movie. Can I take you, baby, to the show.
Why don't you let me be yours ever truly. Can I make your garden grow
You know.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Part I. Sending his Brother Away

I got the pic of Satan’s daughter standing in a doorway to a bordello in Reconstruction Era New Orleans (don’t ask me why New Orleans, maybe because the Orleans casino is a large Southern estate-like mansion on its façade.)

Reconstruction Era, for you furreners (j/k), foreigners, internationals who I love because all seven of you read my writing, lol, is the period in American history after the Civil War. The South went through a very rough period, as after President Lincoln was assassinated, the Northern Congressmen were unforgiving in their policies toward the South. Some would say the deep South deserved such punitive measures. Today, many reenact famous Civil War battles and fly the Confederate flag. (These are the states that voted very red in the election this month, btw.) Evidently, most people did not espouse Abraham Lincoln’s view that:

“I have always found that mercy bears greater fruits than strict justice.”

If Lincoln had said “punishment” in lieu of “justice” I think I might have agreed with him more, in light of the word “always” also being in there. I think he meant: with “strict administration of the law, justice is not always served because no law is perfect, being either too over-inclusive or not enough, and not being able to tailor judgments to every single situation. But we all get the point.

Anyway, and she’s standing there (Satan’s daughter, sorry for the digression), much like Mae West in “Diamond Lil”. But of course, she has to be waiting for somebody or somebody has to be passing by that catches her eye, or vice versa. Satan’s daughter, not Mae West, or maybe both. J or all three, Diamond Lil, too.

Who else but Michael, since he’s got his flaming sword in hand. So the story begins, and soon I found myself daydreaming about famous scenes from the Bible, that are well documented in gilded paintings on doorway panels in Byzantine and Eastern Orthodox Churches, as well as ornately carved panels in Western Cathedrals.

Part I, posted earlier, tells of Michael readying for battle with Lucifer, who was the original bad-ass archangel, bigger than Michael back then. When Lucifer gathers his host of angels that are willing to follow him into battle against God, God sends Archangel Michael, God’s new right-hand man, er, angel.

In the first part of this epic poem, Michael is readying for battle. He’s donning his chain mail (don’t ask me why angels need armor) over his wings (feather, not rainbow wings). His chain mail is a bit corroded and stinky because Michael never bathes, as angels need not. However, chain mail does need upkeep even if angels do not. After all those battles, the perspiration and blood, if indeed angels bleed or sweat, must take its toll on Michael’s armor and garments. Since angels are sinless (except Lucifer and those who went down with him), Michael doesn’t need to shower, so the joke here is that pure Michael might be a bit stinky (only something that people who are sensitive to the slightest odors would think about, Eew).

That’s also why Michael might feel a bit bland, as some philosophical schools of thought would agree that good cannot exist without evil, since there would be nothing by which to compare the former (or the latter). How do you know what is good if there is no bad? (Or the idea of “evil”?) Thus, badness is not such a bad thing and a necessity. In my epic story poem at least.

Gabs of course is Archangel Gabriel, the Bearer of Good Tidings since he appeared before the Virgin Mary to tell her that the child she was bearing was from God. That’s why he’s all happy and has bouncy curls (that was in an older version). Michael has salon-fatigued curls (later chapter) because he’s unsettled in mind and spirit for some reason, especially after seeing Satan’s daughter.

Looking out to heaven’s blue sky (which is never red, btw), Michael sees the approach of his brother Lucifer, which makes him sad, Michael, not Lucifer. For although the Bible and most fire-and-brimstone religions are black and white, I cannot imagine brothers who truly love each other being happy about killing each other and never seeing the other again. Although the Bible tells of God being sad that Lucifer was lost, the general tone of the Church is pretty cold towards Satan.

That’s what’s behind Michael’s “queer mix of love” for his brother Lucifer, as Lucifer, knowing heaven and sin is the only of the archangels to know (in the Biblical sense of having lived) right from wrong, to be distinguished from Archangel Michael, who knows in theory what is right and wrong but has only ever practiced “right”.

I correct myself: On this day, if heaven is measured in such terms, heaven does bleed with red, so I guess the skies must have been pretty purple (or maybe lavender since heaven is light blue. Actually, you would probably get a darkish reddish purple. Merely wishful thinking on my part since lavender is a happier color.)

Lucifer’s nickname is Luz (no, not in the Bible, in my story), which means “light” in Spanish. That leads into my reference to the morning star, Venus, which some would not approve as some do not believe that devils should be referred to as guiding stars.

I don’t care because this is my poem. So, crank up Led Zep’s Houses of the Holy and read this poem to its tempo. You’ll see it reads pretty darn well.

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On to Part Due.

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MY OTHER WRITINGS

What I Said When I saw Salvador Dali's Metamorphosis of Narcissus

It's the Ground Game, Baby! (Going to a Swing State to Campaign and Partying with the Dems)

Click here for An Open Letter to President Obama.

Yay! The election’s over and Four More Years! Four More Years! Which of course inspired me to write an Inaugural Poem for Obama #44 (try to guess where I sneak in the #44 in my poem! The answer is (will be in the Crib Notes explaining the poem!) Check out Other Inaugural Poems from great poets like Robert Frost for J.F.K. and Maya Angelou for  B.O., yeah! (And remember to Friend me on Facebook to get the poem out!)


For almost half in this country, it’s nothing to celebrate. My sister even felt labor pangs when Obama won again (yay!) but they subsided and my godson was born a week later. The labor pangs were from stress, not a good kind when she wanted Romney to win. Luckily, there was no talk of politics when I visited my sis for the baptism. It helps when you stay in a hotel and rent your own car. (Hotel my idea, car rental my mom’s.)

The week before the election, I wanted to head over to Nevada to do some campaigning, but had to finish some work before I could. Had to make sure that I had enough to cover my bills while taking some time off. For weeks, Obama For America had urged me to make a donation, even as little as five dollars, they said, but I hadn’t even that amount to give since everything was going to bills. Finally, a few days before the campaign, I had mustered enough to cover my bills while away in Nevada, with a few bucks, i.e., five dollars, left over to either donate to Obama For America or buy a fruit smoothie from Burger King (my serving of fruits and vegetables for the day). Burger King had a buy-one-get-one-free coupon I wanted to take advantage of but if I did, I wouldn’t have anything to contribute to Obama For America. So, I did the conscionable thing and donated five dollars. The very next minute, I got an email from Prez Obama asking: Ssal, thank you for your generous donation of Five Dollars, but we still need your help! Can you help with the campaign by making some phone calls? Why, yes, Mr. President, I can!

So, I hopped into my car with some buddies and headed over to Sin City in the great Swing State of Nevada. Some of them were already there, dutifully making phone calls and urging people to vote! Regrettably, I did not have much time to help with the campaign, but it was great fun! So many people hung up on me, yelled at me for bothering them with phone calls night and day for months (sorry, this is my first time calling, Mr. Hinks), and a few thanked me for my service (makes it all worthwhile!).

The Democratic headquarters in Las Vegas was smaller than I had imagined but evidently much bigger than the Republican base. According to my friend, the Democratic office was organized to my tastes, cluttery and haphazard. However, if you read the news, the Democratic Party was super-organized compared to the Repubs. So, I flicked away a used piece of Kleenex tissue (ew) crumpled on the desk at which I was assigned, grabbed a soda, and went to work.

The list I was given were the dregs of the potential Dem voters. That is, the high probability voters had already been contacted (half a dozen times) and we were scraping the barrel bottom for every last vote! Some of them must have recognized my vote because as soon as they picked up the phone and before I could greet them with “Hello, my name is Ssal with the…” click. Somebody made some monster noises on the other line, so I called back just to be sure (of what, I don’t know), and sure enough, he made the same monster noises and quickly hung up on me.

But it was for the cause, and I called through almost a dozen sheets of names and numbers, marking each one per the party’s directions, indicating if I made a real human “contact” or not. If I spoke to someone who was a relative and assured me that the person I was trying to reach had already voted, that still did NOT count. Can’t trust ‘em. Gotta’ talk to the man himself. The only way to have an accurate vote count. (That’s why Romney or many in Romney’s party thought he was going to win on election day. Go figure.)

After taking a pizza break, I started dialing again. Yikes, I got a rush job that I didn’t really want because these few days were supposed to be devoted to campaigning. Unfortunately, it was a big job and I couldn’t turn down the paycheck, so I finished up with some more campaigning until close to 9 p.m. (can’t call people past their bedtime anyway) and headed off to Starbucks to download some info to start my ill-timed project and worked until the wee hours of the morning.

Election day! We headed back to the office to make more phone calls; by the afternoon, it was more crucial to give rides to the polls. I was assigned a phone in an administrator’s office (that sounds grander than it is), so in between making phone calls, I kept getting phone calls. I was directed not to answer them, so avoided them, but once when I picked up the receiver to make a phone call, after dialing, I hear not ringing tone but instead get: Hello, I need a ride to vote. Bingo! I always wanted to get voters to the polls and help the disenfranchised! Actually, these people were not disenfranchised, only did not have a car and they were too old and sick to walk or ride the bus to their polling place.

The first person we picked up was a Vet. Bum knee still in a cast. Thanks for your service, dude. It’s sad that these people don’t have anyone nearby to help them to the polls, (other than the Democratic Party, of course of course!). Disabled people often get isolated, so we cheerily drove him to the elementary school that was his voting location and walked him in to vote! My first ride getting people to the polls! So exciting! If you want to do something really worthwhile in life, say, in contrast to going shopping on Black Friday, this is the thing to do! I almost cried walking Dave the Vet back to the car and helping him out of the car when we reached his home. He had a cat that missed him and that was all. Waiting for him to enter his house safely, we headed back to the office to pick up another voter who wanted to practice his right to vote!

The next person was in tears. She had been waiting for hours because no one wanted to pick her up. The address information this lady gave was not showing up precisely on Google Maps. Sometimes people don’t give us the correct info or something is lost in translation when speaking over the phone. Either way, all our drivers were busy ferrying other folks to the polls, so I volunteered to find this lady. I didn’t know that her residence was not in the best part of town, the part that people avoid after dark.

Undaunted, a friend and I went out in search of her place, like the knight in Edgar Allen Poe’s “El Dorado” (that’s why I write poems like Poe--see other pages and posts--, love his work). By the time we finally found her apartment, she had just been picked up by some other volunteers, good for them! Except I wish things had been a bit more coordinated because we spent almost an hour looking for her while a few other people were waiting.

Finally, we picked up a voter who ten minutes before the polls closed. He had MS and could not drive to his polling place. Agh! Fate was not kind for he typed in the incorrect address into his phone and we ended up circling the area before we finally found his polling place. They were packing up! Poor fella’ he had never missed a voting day in his life. What would his mother say, he asked? At least he tried, we consoled him. Because every vote does count. . .

By the time we dropped him off, everyone was heading to the Mandalay Bay. The Republicans were gathering at the Venetian, owned by Billionaire Akin who pledged up to 200 million to making Obama a one-term president (aren’t there better reasons to campaign? Like campaigning FOR someone because you believe in their principles instead of AGAINST someone because you don’t like them? I can imagine if the person was very hateful, like Hitler, but really, guys). I didn’t even think of bringing a nice outfit, so made do with a lavender skirt and lavender sweater (really, I was a bit too purple-pink that night) and a pair of boots. Was going to wear my coat because I get cold easily when one of my friends reminded me that it was almost 70 degrees outside.

Walking from the parking garage of the Mandalay Bay to the North Convention Hall ballroom, you could feel the excitement. People were laughing and wearing Obama signs. I had checked my phone on the way to the Mandalay and the reports showed Obama breaking away in Ohio. By the time we got a blue wristband to enter the ballroom, the jumbo screens showed CNN, ABC, and CBS calling Ohio for Obama with 280 electoral votes, the crowd broke into deafening cheers, all over the country, I suspect. (Fox was a little behind the curve with this one, as you might have seen, tee hee. Carl Rove was stuttering his protest about how Ohio could still be won, tee hee.)

We waited for the speeches but unfortunately, Romney’s concession speech was interrupted by a local who had just won and was giving his acceptance speech in the ballroom, which was being broadcast live. At least we saw Obama’s speech, which was thrilling for the crowd. Someone raised their iPad to record the jumbo screen. That was one of the nights when you really felt that “God’s in his heaven, All’s right with the world.”

Talk about a high that you didn’t want to end.

You mean no more polls? Where do I get my morning fix of election polls and stories? I bookmarked the 538 Blog, CNN’s polling center, Real Clear Politics all on my Bookmarks tab. They replaced all my other important tabs, such as you know, Macy’s and wow, I can’t even remember what I used to have bookmarked. For me for months, there was nothing BUT the election. What do I do now?

We were smiling through and through for days, beaming our smiles right from our hearts.

If you read all the post-election analysis, the consensus of why Obama won is pretty simple: It’s the ground game baby. But this runs a bit deeper. When the Supreme Court decided the election ion 2000, I and so many others were indignant, downright fuming! I had followed the Gore-Bush election avidly as well, but for some reason, knowing that it was close, didn’t prompt me to help with the campaign. Maybe it was Gore, good but not inspiring.

With Obama, you just feel the love. So when pundits say that Obama won because of  super-sophisticated ground-game of unprecedented numbers, they’re right. People like me traveled from all over the country, “flew in for 10 days” one man we met in the elevator of the Mandalay Bay because “he would die” if Obama lost. That’s the kind of people Obama inspired. The just left their jobs, took vacation days, traveled to Swing states, and made phone calls, registered voters, anything for The Cause. No one but Obamaman could inspire such love.

Too bad that higher-than-a-kit feeling had to end. But the steady serenity we feel now is a pretty good substitute.

Four more years! Yay! 

Which of course inspired me to write an Inaugural Poem for Obama #44 (try to guess where I sneak in the #44 in my poem! The answer is (will be in the Crib Notes explaining the poem!) Check out Other Inaugural Poems from great poets like Robert Frost for J.F.K. and Maya Angelou for  B.O., yeah!

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MY OTHER WRITINGS

What I Said When I saw Salvador Dali's Metamorphosis of Narcissus at the Tate Modern 

Princess Boo Wakes Up on theWrong Side of the Bed

I'm going to a Swing State!

(Now that the election is over, check out Ssal's Inaugural Poem for the Pres! To be distinguished from A Tale of Two Romneys for Mitt Romney!)

Guess who's going to a swing? I would always wrinkle my nose at politics and remember when I was in high school, and all my friends were running for some position in the Math Club, or the Science Club, or the Honor Society because we were all going to college and had to list at least one leadership position, lol.

They had to make a two-minute speech on why you should vote for them and the idea of that made me queasy. Telling people why you think you are better. So, I never ran for Treasurer of the Math Club or Secretary of the Chess Club (probably because I wasn’t in the Chess Club).

And through the years, I thought I’d never be a political person. Until Gore v. Bush. Sometimes, despite yourself, you gotta’ drag yourself in. I can’t say that I am motivated like some people, whose only purpose is to “make Obama a one-term president” because that’s just the Haters coming out. That type pof negative feeling doesn’t motivate me.

However, defending an innocent person who is being pounded on for no good reason other than the fact that he is not white, well, I go for underdogs. And the fact that B.O. doesn’t play the race card and takes everything so gracefully (I would have long ago called some people out for not liking me if I were Black long ago!), like the Governor from Arizona, the Speaker of the House, that Billionaire Adelson who has already given 100 million and committed 200 million to defeat President Obama. Well, they’re going to see how much more powerful love can be.

After I gave $5 to Obama’s campaign (they ask for at least $5), I got a follow-up email asking me that B.O. needs help. Can I make some phone calls? Yes, I can! I’m playing hooky from work and going to a swing state to make some phone calls to Get Out the Vote! No matter what happens, I can say, I did something and didn’t sit by the wayside.

I do not think that humanity will always win in the end. Sometimes, a species just annihilates itself from greed. I mean, do you think Sandy was the typical hurricane storm that we usually get? Every year, the hurricanes get BIGGER.

So, I’ll tell you how the trip to NEVADA goes. Sin City, here I come!

P.S. It went great, as you all know the outcome to the election. Now you can read my Inaugural Poem for President  Obama! Friend me on Facebook to let others know about the poem!

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MY OTHER WRITINGS

What I Said When I Saw Salvador Dali’s Metamorphosis of Narcissus at the Tate Modern