Daddy’s home


A vague and almost magical “everything’s gonna be OK” feeling has swept over me since Barack Obama delivered his acceptance speech last night. I spent the last couple hours before his victory over McCain was announced, at the Sylvia White Gallery in Ventura alongside an electric crowd of voters, all of us openly displaying the emotion of what Obama himself said has “been a long time coming.”

Men and women wept, cheered and raised their champagne glasses during what at times was a raucous celebration. I couldn’t help but wonder if Sylvia White was fearing for the safety of the art that hung in the midst of it all.

There was a moment during Obama’s speech when it hit me that he had actually won. As much as I’ve admired since his speech at the DNC many elections ago, I honestly did not think this country would vote him in. But we did and there seems to be a collective exhalation. An almost audible sigh of triumphant relief. Everyone I talk to feels ridiculously optimistic. I mostly feel like Daddy’s home. Night night.

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