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Election

It’s crazy. My brother called me to ask about poll results in Massachusetts.
My mother is glued to the talk shows.Everyone I know is thinking and talking and donating and making phone calls. The most exciting election in my lifetime, for sure.

I will be out of town tomorrow so I already mailed in my vote: Obama, without angst.
It’s the poetry that got me at first and keeps me reeled in.
Am I supposed to apologize for voting for the person who understands that people need music and poetry in their political discourse? Does this make me naive?

There’s all this blather about young vs. boomer in this election. Blather it is.
This boomer, and most of my boomer friends (boomers: the people who brought you feminism, civil rights, gay rights, patients’ rights — human victories all) are for Obama.

Hilary is competent. I’m actually very proud of her. But she lacks the poetry gene. And as tough as she is, it’s a weakness. Poetry is fierce. All the spoken-word art (hiphop and rap included) flex this muscle, which helps explain why the kids are standing up for him. In today’s Doonesbury, the college girl says, “He’d definitely hooking up with my better angels.”

There are other reasons for choosing Obama. His positions, his advisors, his campaign’s smart and smashing success, his chances in the fall. But it’s the poetry, first and last.
Yes
He
Can

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