Color me uncolored... and speechless...

I'm still in shock; I had no idea that this would happen so soon. It seems that America continues to be a land of surprises--for worse or, apparently, for better...

The world was watching, the nation was hoping, and I was sitting in my socks and boxers with my eyes glued to the television. It happened, and I couldn't help but check the calendar. I was almost positive it wasn't April. Did we enter some sort of backwards alternate-reality vortex? I looked that man in the face and couldn't help but view him as a walking, talking, living, breathing, anachronism, a man somehow misplaced in the grand scheme of things--a man who, despite perpetuated practices, managed to inspire a radical reconsideration of long-held ideals and beliefs. All I could do was stare. It wasn't April, I wasn't dreaming, and we seemed to be comfortably nestled in our normal, non-alternative, universe.

My father voted for the first time, and I can't help but think he represents his generation's final push to make something happen. It worked. I can't relay to you the pride and, deep, fundamental, joy I felt at my father's excitement to cast his vote. All of this is sobering, to say the least. This election has made Neil Armstrongs of us all; we are finally aware of our individual place in the ever-running continuum of time. I'm glad I've lived to witness what could possibly be one of the most significant regime changes in the small history of our adolescent nation and the larger, more considerable, history of our (human) race.

For all of those who have died; for the bodies at the bottom of the Atlantic ocean; for the bones buried deeply in the heart of our southern kin; for the sacrifice, heartache and hardship; for my mother and father, my grandmother and grandfather; for the homeless persons on the street, the lonely souls longingly lingering behind bars, and the dapper debutantes flaunting the fruits of their professional prowess; I look ahead and smile.

It seems that we, in our own small-stepping way, have made another giant leap toward a promising future. Still, I'm certain that we've yet to travel as far and as long as we must for things to be truly as they should. I'm looking forward to the journey.

Family

So I Just got back "home" after a week long foray into the inner sanctum of familial relations. My parents renewed their vows after 25 years of (more or less) happy marriage, four kids, a host of semi-adopted auxiliaries and half a lifetime of dealing with large groups of Type A personalities. After having the privilege of participating in the ceremony (by far the worst "singing" I've done in recent and not so recent memory) I realize that I'm in no hurry to venture down that road.

Don't get me wrong. I love family. I love seeing the look of true pleasure in their eyes when they behold the reassuring sight of a lasting union between two individuals in whom they see a wellspring of promise and possibility. I love the almost palpable bond that connects even the most estranged members of the convivial collective. I love feeling a sense of safety amidst a world of danger and chaos. Still, too much of any good thing counteracts that thing's goodness, and--true to form--, the family that I hold so dearly is also the family that-- given the proper amount of time--drives me up a wall-- and/or out a door.

All in all, the week was enjoyable. I had the opportunity to see folk I hadn't in a very long time, and also got to hang out with friends whom I'd been sorely missing for what seemed to be even longer. It was a week I didn't know I needed. Here's to the times when surprises are doubly unexpected and, equally, enjoyed.