ChgoRed, Girl Editor

Armistice Day

Everyone Sang, by Siegfried Sassoon (1920)

EVERYONE suddenly burst out singing;  
And I was filled with such delight  
As prisoned birds must find in freedom,  
Winging wildly across the white  
Orchards and dark-green fields; on—on—and out of sight.
  
Everyone’s voice was suddenly lifted;  
And beauty came like the setting sun:  
My heart was shaken with tears; and horror  
Drifted away ... O, but Everyone  
Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done.

The Morning After: Things to Think About

I have so many random thoughts running through my head, I need to collect them all in one place.

• We have our first post-Vietnam president.

• I am so so incredibly relieved the vote was decisive, and didn't hinge on a couple thousand votes in Florida or Ohio. Again.

• He won Florida and Virginia.  He has broken the Republican hold on the South.

• Three words: Supreme Court justices.

• There is a whole section of the country that expects Obama will take away their guns, get rid of Christmas, and ban talk radio. They are pretty damn angry right now.  And scared.

Election Day (Updates Through the Day)

Monday
The whole day felt like the day before my wedding.  Meaning, pretty much all the work was done; the only thing left was to get dressed and let things take their course.

It's a useless sort of feeling, that waiting.  Moreso because we voted a week ago—our part is long done.

Today
A little after 3 AM: Woke up, immediately thought, "Election Day!" and could not get back to sleep.  If I couldn't sleep, I could at least go online.  Jack-the-cat was mystified ny this change in schedule, even pawing my chair like, "Hey!  What is with this??"

Tried to go back to sleep later, but no luck. General low-grade anxiousness sets in some time around 5.  Watching the election news, I tear up about every 19 minutes.

During the bus ride to work we pass a lot of polling places, and every one has a line out the door.  One of the lines looks to have 50 people in it.  It is barely 7 AM. 

Halfway through the ride, I realize I am tense and hunched in my seat, like a sprinter.  I make myself take deep breaths, and change my iPod from Bruce/U2 to Ray Charles and Todd Snider.

I find myself studying the faces of the African-Americans on the bus and outside on the street.  Only one of them is smiling.  The rest look like they're steeling themselves for bad news.

At Work
I keep thinking about my ancestors—about a great-grandma who marched for suffrage, about another one who earned a citation for her dedication to seeling War Bonds in WWII.  About all of those who believed in this country and fought to see it live up to its potential.  What would they say about today?

Lunch
Out with the husband.  The Loop is noticeably quieter than usual.  A lot of downtown workers have taken the day off or are leaving early, to avoid the rally crowds.  After a sandwich, we take a stroll over to Grant Park, to see whatever we can see before I have to get back to work.  More people, most of them in Obama t-shirts.  The line for rally ticketholders is only about 100 people long.  It seems like there is one journalist + cameraperson for every 10 people.  And lots of cops.  We can't get too close to the tents; sighting distance is about the best we can do.  The weather is stunning.  Is this truly November?

At one point, we see a kid carrying a skateboard.  On it he has written, "Will skate for Obama tix."  I am dying to know if this works for him.

On the way back, my husband buys an Obama button and tries to pin it on my shirt.  I remind him I have to go back to work and he says, "Oh—I forgot!" We both agree that it feels like a Saturday.  It feels carnival-esque.

2:20 PM, back at the office and reading the Web: Nerves and vague nausea.

3:30: Boss has left for the day—he has tickets for the rally, and he still needs to vote.  I've told two different people, "I'll see ya on the other side," because it really does feel like that.  We're about to go through this thing together and, yet, apart.  Who knows what it will be like over there?

"Eyes on the Prize" has been in my head all day long.

Eyes on the Prize, People

This one was popular during the Civil Rights movement.  Good for keeping your spirits steady in nervous times.

******

Keep Your Eyes on the Prize
 
Paul and Silas were bound in jail

Had no money for to go their bail

Keep your eyes on the prize, Hold on

Paul and Silas thought they was lost

Dungeon shook and the chains came off

Keep your eyes on the prize, Hold on

Freedom’s name is mighty sweet

And soon we’re gonna meet

Keep your eyes on the prize, Hold on

I got my hand on the gospel plow

Won’t take nothing for my journey now

Keep your eyes on the prize, Hold on

Hold, hold on

Keep your eyes on the prize, Hold on!

Only chain that we can stand

Is the chain of hand to hand

Keep your eyes on the prize, Hold on

I’m gonna board that big Greyhound

Carry THE LOVE from town to town

Keep your eyes on the prize, Hold on

Hold on, hold on

Keep your eyes on the prize, Hold on

The only thing that we did wrong

Was stayin’ in the wilderness too long

Keep your eyes on the prize, Hold on

Only thing we did was right

Was the day we started to fight!

Keep your eyes on the prize, Hold on

Hold on, hold on,

Keep your eyes on the prize, Hold on

Ain’t been to heaven but I’ve been told,

Streets up there are paved with gold

Keep your eyes on the prize, Hold on

Hold on, hold on

Keep your eyes on the prize, Hold on!