Making history

Either way, history would have been made....the first woman or the first African American man as the Democratic Presidential nominee. But as I sat in my living room under a fuzzy blanket with my sleeping dog peaceful and happy on my lap, CNN blaring Obama's eloquent and inspiring speech, I was acutely aware of what I was witnessing. Aware of all the monumental things for which I have been present and about which my children will ask me someday, like I asked my mother about the day Kennedy was shot. I could feel myself in time, in history, outside myself as if seeing myself in a black and white photograph. Face turned up to the TV, inspired, awed, full of hope and moved by the words of this man who speaks of change. One invisible spectator, one tiny moment in time. Maybe it WILL be the moment that changes everything.

There have been quite a few events I've lived through that have affected me, that have seared memories into the fabric of my life. Where I was, who I was with, faces, expressions....very few have been happy. The Challenger explosion. I was in 5th grade and I remember the moment of silence we observed at the end of the school day, standing at our desks made heavier with the weight of our overturned chairs. Feeling the sadness of the adults around us, not really knowing how to feel, slightly embarrassed in the silence. I can see the plume of smoke, still.

The Gulf War. I remember the day I realized the magnitude of what this meant. A junior in high school, I was sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table doing homework with the TV on. They were broadcasting the death toll in Kuwait, I think. Suddenly the weight of the world was on my 16 year old shoulders and I cried uncontrollably for the men and women that were dying, for the terror of my own mortality, for the enormity of war and death and the intangible reasons for it.

The night Princess Diana was killed in a car accident in Paris. I was out with a now former boyfriend and his family. We came home, I went down into the florescent light of the basement and turned on the TV. I heard the news and yelled up the stairs to the others.

September 11th. I was driving to work when it happened. My morning radio show news guy was still reporting it as an accident. Then another plane hit. Still no one knew what was going on. I got to work and I asked a co-worker who had already arrived if she knew what was going on. She didn't. Someone said our boss was on her way in with a TV. That morning all of us gathered around a little TV with rabbit ears that sat on the table in DK's office. I sat on one side and Becky sat on the other. We held the antennae so there was reasonable reception. Everyone was talking, the reporters were talking, it was chaos. Then the first tower fell and as long as I live, I will never forget the look on Becky's face. Eyes wide with confusion and fear and sadness. We didn't say anything. There was nothing to be said. They started evacuating buildings downtown and anyone who knew anyone in NY was on the phone. Our NY sales rep was in our office in Skokie that day. She was in a meeting with a client and didn't even know what was going on for at least an hour. Sobbing, she ended up splitting a rental car and driving back to NY with another sales rep. With nothing to do but watch the news and sit in stunned silence and terror, the office was closed. We went home to our houses, the houses of loved ones, the places we had made comfortable and safe for ourselves and our families and continued to watch the events unfold on TV. So much TV. We were inundated with explosions, people falling from buildings hoping to save themselves or at least end it quickly. And so much dust. Firefighters emerged from the clouds like heroic scenes in a movie. But this was real. So real. That night and for a few nights afterwards I sat on the backporch of my apartment. The silence was eerie. Planes were not flying, flags were at half mast. The United States was in mourning. All of us together, black, white, polka dotted. Four days later one of my closest friends got married. We drove down to central IL with an American flag flapping in the wind.

Hopefully we have happier things to look forward to and remember like an African American President and the Cubs winning the World Series.