The Day After the Election –Final Reflections

I thought you might be interested in what some Italians said to me (REPEATEDLY in different fashions) in the streets and the pub just before, during, and immediately after our election:

“It’s really great that Obama will be your president; we all need him; we all need change.”

“You know it says a lot that you elect him, not about him, but about Americans.”

“I don’t know how you voted for Bush a second time; you can’t make the mistake a 3^rd time!?!????” –This last one was said with pleading eyes, searching for agreement, and unfortunately I could give him no reassurance as I was losing my hope as the election results trickled in. You see, I’m Irish, or at least half (the better half as my mother likes to say,) and although we are dreamers and believers, when the time comes, we pray for the best while expecting the worst.

I was in Florence, in a B&B that had no TV and no internet connection. So at midnight I wandered over to the Irish pub with my laptop (they had Wi-Fi) and watched their CNN with a bunch of university students from all over the world. My Microsoft cousin and I were pinging back and forth till 2am, she was watching NBC, I was getting results from CNN, CBS, and Fox (I know but I had to –the Irishside wanted to see the worst case scenario.) So at 2am they closed the pub and I had no news except McCain had won KY and WV and Obama VT. VT!!!!!??????? That was hardly going to do it. So I went to bed and hoped for the best but expected the worst.

When I awoke the sun was shining; it hadn’t shown for 6 days but rather had been cold and wet, reminding me of home. Home seemed so far away at that moment; all the world knew and I knew nothing. The election had gone on without me. With my face to the sun, the Irish-me said, “Oh please, dear God, shining the sun will not be enough to soften the blow.” I wandered over to the pub and shocked the bartender, who must have thought I needed a straight jacket, as I stood in front of the TV staring, mesmerized, laughing, and then crying. Strange American Girl.

I had a professor in college who said my generation would never amount to anything because we had not had a great national tragedy in our lives to respond to like he had with Vietnam. Out of his Vietnam tragedy came great poets, musicians, and artists; because it takes great tragedy to bring about new movements, at least this was his theory. Well, September 11 was my generation’s great tragedy or so I had thought. But out of that single event came many more tragedies rather than a great new movement. Pick your tragedy: war in Afghanistan, war in Iraq, reputation around the world, economy, class warfare, the war on civil rights, etc—any one of these could have started a new movement. But they didn’t, it took the collection of them, not any one event or tipping point to start this new movement, and like a dear friend of mine has reminded me, the election is just one step in the movement of my generation. It will take a collection of events to make this a movement worthy of great poetry, music, and art.

In tribute to my professor’s theory, I have included the lyrics and the link to a song by Scottish musician, Sandi Thom, from her album “Smile…It Confuses People” (and it really does-I do it all the time!) She’s no Bob Dylan but we’re young, the best is yet to come!

“I wish I were a Punk Rocker”

Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair
In seventy-seven and sixty-nine revolution was in the air
I was born too late into a world that doesn't care
Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair

When the head of state didn't play guitar
Not everybody drove a car
When music really mattered and when radio was king
When accountants didn't have control
And the media couldn't buy your soul
And computers were still scary and we didn't know everything

Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair
In seventy-seven and sixty-nine revolution was in the air
I was born too late into a world that doesn't care
Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair

When pop stars still remained a myth
And ignorance could still be bliss
And when god saved the queen she turned a whiter shade of pale
My mom and dad were in their teens
And anarchy was still a dream
And the only way to stay in touch was a letter in the mail

Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair
In seventy-seven and sixty-nine revolution was in the air
I was born too late into a world that doesn't care
Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair

When record shops were still on top
And vinyl was all that they stocked
And the super info highway was still drifting out in space
Kids were wearing hand me downs
And playing games meant kick arounds
And footballers still had long hair and dirt across their face

Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair
In seventy-seven and sixty-nine revolution was in the air
I was born too late into a world that doesn't care
Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair
I was born too late into a world that doesn't care
Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair