In the Room
On Being in the Room When Hope Returned
The crowd went wild. People stood up and took out their cell phones to tape the moment or hold it up like a flame at a concert. The applause was thunderous. At first, I didn’t know why I was clapping.
It took a lot to get here. This was the first trip I had taken for myself in two decades that wasn’t a business trip or vacation with the kids. I was heartsick over the authoritarianism I read about in textbooks happening before my eyes. I protested. I wrote a letter to my representative. When I heard about a conference being hosted by Pod Save America in Washington, DC to bring together the left-wing, I knew I had to go despite my hesitancy to travel in busy US air corridors during the current administration. I made travel arrangements but knew I could bail if the political situation took a turn for the worse.
Then came the troops being deployed to DC. That would be ok, right? They won’t shoot at libs just because we are libs, right? As I was pondering that, Charlie Kirk was murdered. There was a real fear that the United States of America would descend into cycles of violence like Northern Ireland.
The government shutdown was scary, but necessary given the tens of millions who would lose their health insurance. An anxious nation awaited the results of an off-year election cycle.
Then, like a magnificent sunrise, the results came in. Sherril won. Mamdani won. Spanberger won. The clouds had parted, and the sun was unmistakably shining through.
The wind blew yellow leaves off the oak trees that lined both sides of the street on the Uber to my hotel in DC. The Washington Monument glows against a dusky purple sky.
“Be in your seat by 8:10, you won’t regret it,” says the security guard at the historic Warner Theater. I was settled in my seat when the podcast hosts walked on stage. They turned to the right and started clapping as he strode out on stage. The crowd went wild. We were on our feet. We smiled, laughed, and even shed tears. President Obama addressed the crowd for about 15 minutes. I was awe-struck.
For months, I had been developing the theme of outsiderhood for my memoir. My patron saint of outsiderhood, President Obama, had just addressed the crowd in which I stood. The Universe is telling me I can follow my dreams to be an artist and spiritual teacher and be a loving, present mother. She gave me a huge hug along with a wink and a nod.