November 3, 2004 is one of the hardest days I can remember. I woke up, confirmed that the worst had happened, and then left 32 Wheeler to head to class. I recall seeing some small children on the walk over and wanting to cry. When I arrived at my poly sci class with Harry Hirsh, everyone was a mess. For an hour, we talked about what had happened: some ranted and raved, some sat quietly, despondent, and some seemed close to tears. We all did our best to make sense of something we didn’t understand.
What I remember best is that at some point, someone suggested or implied that Barack Obama, my hometown senator who’d recently caught the nation’s attention at the DNC, might help the Democrats finally wrestle back control of the White House in 2008. Harry, who I always found to be incredibly intelligent and an astute political observer, quickly dismissed this idea, commenting that our best chance of electing a Democratic president again would be to nominate a charismatic candidate from the South who could siphon off a few Red States. I thought that made a shitload of sense.
Barack, thank you for somehow making this all come true.
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The Top 25 will belatedly appear this weekend after I turn in my seminar paper.
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