Lucy's Spleen

Last night at 2:00 a.m. a mass of students paraded through our neighborhood, hollering ecstatically that, "Yes, we can," and that, "This is what democracy looks like." Our pals in NYC reported that all of Brooklyn was rejoicing: people were dancing in the streets, sounding noisemakers, throwing confetti- the works. D.C. was blowing up, Chicago, even Utah. It's extraordinary! I've always felt that my generation was missing the unity and sense of achievement I've seen among other generations that is born from a widespread sense of common ideals and common purpose. But now we have done this together and it is new. We haven't experienced such a prevailing inclination before so it's tough to pin down and we're apprehensive about acknowledging it outright, but I think what we're feeling is hope.

Election Day, 2008

I am in love with democracy today. I haven't been so excited about voting since my first election after I turned eighteen in 1996. Rather, this time I was more excited, since my '96 vote for Clinton was effectively pointless in the great red state of Utah. Waiting in line at the Methodist church this morning it was all I could do refrain from cheering other voters as they emerged from the booths. "Good job!" I wanted to call out to them, "Congratulations! You did it!" I was thrilled to participate in this process with them, no matter how they voted (though let's be real here: this is Massachusetts- they voted Democrat), I felt proud of all of us and- how can I say this?- harmonious. I felt, for once, serenely harmonious with my fellow Americans. To every one of you who voted: I'm proud of you. I applaud you for engaging in this civic opportunity. Thank you. Congratulations.

white words

Also, though we've held a joint address for years, this is the first time Stan and I have gone to the polls together. After voting side-by-side this morning, then watching the votes roll in to such a thrilling result tonight, I will look back on this as among the most romantic and momentous experiences we've shared together.

Here's Walt:

Election Day, November, 1884
Walt Whitman

If I should need to name, O Western World, your powerfulest scene and show,
'Twould not be you, Niagara--nor you, ye limitless prairies--nor
your huge rifts of canyons, Colorado,
Nor you, Yosemite--nor Yellowstone, with all its spasmic
geyser-loops ascending to the skies, appearing and disappearing,
Nor Oregon's white cones--nor Huron's belt of mighty lakes--nor
Mississippi's stream:
--This seething hemisphere's humanity, as now, I'd name--the still
small voice vibrating--America's choosing day,
(The heart of it not in the chosen--the act itself the main, the
quadriennial choosing,)
The stretch of North and South arous'd--sea-board and inland--
Texas to Maine--the Prairie States--Vermont, Virginia, California,
The final ballot-shower from East to West--the paradox and conflict,
The countless snow-flakes falling--(a swordless conflict,
Yet more than all Rome's wars of old, or modern Napoleon's:) the
peaceful choice of all,
Or good or ill humanity--welcoming the darker odds, the dross:
--Foams and ferments the wine? it serves to purify--while the heart
pants, life glows:
These stormy gusts and winds waft precious ships,
Swell'd Washington's, Jefferson's, Lincoln's sails.

Photos From Last Year Of How It Is Around Here Lately

  

Probably the Last Good-Weather Weekend of the Year

Here's how we spent this perfect final day of it:

• Breakfast with Coco and Bonkers in their superb Providence plaque house apartment.
• Bouldering for Stan and a pal and a nature walk for me at Lincoln Woods State Park, RI. Today was one of those spectacularly gorgeous New England autumn days and I was kicking myself all afternoon for having not yet bought a camera to replace my old, sad, broken one.
• Shabu-shabu dinner at the new place for it in Harvard Square. 
• Whiskey tea, chocolate cake, and a couple of Blue Planet episodes before an early bedtime.

Today I observed the second annual Take the Screens Out of the Windows Day, which is great because it floods the apartment with a little extra blast of light just as the days have started to grow notably shorter; and also because it means we've been in this apartment for more than a year, breaking my several-year stretch of moving every six months. I could get used to this.