The past couple of weeks have been surprisingly emotional for me, ranging from tears to anger; frustration to bewilderment. I never realized how deep this election would affect me, or how passionate I would become as my patriotic spirit re-awakened.
Being the child of a diplomat, you are trained at a very young age to follow protocol, and to be the epitome of a “good American,” and to do what is expected of you. You live and breathe patriotism, and diplomacy, no matter what part of the world you’re in. You follow your father without question, and do as you are told, because you know, when the chips are down, the only thing keeping you safe in some “hardship post,” is your family. They are your nucleus; your world; your lifeline.
I felt more patriotic as a child. Coming back for home-leave every 4 years. Missing and appreciating all things “American,” because you didn’t have them overseas. Fighting over the last Tootsie Roll that an aunt sent in a care package, or meeting Hubert Humphrey, it was all part of life as a TCK (Third Culture Kid).
It slowly eroded over time as each political race proved that often our country was left voting for the lesser of the evils, and that a true, outstanding candidate had yet to throw his/her hat in the ring. Maybe I was jaded because we moved back around the time of Watergate. I watched my father labour at his job, under Secretaries of State Kissinger, Vance and the Muskie. I watched him lose his enthusiasm and even some of his own patriotism. He lived and breathed the life behind the scenes. The late night phone calls, or meeting the Secretary of State’s plane on Christmas Day at Andrews Airforce Base. Though he never discussed his job, he remained professional, and fulfilled his duty to his country until his retirement.
I think my dad would have liked Obama. I think he would have appreciate all that he was trying to do for our nation.
As we come to the close of Obama’s 8-years of presidency, I sit back and reflect upon everything that being a Patriot as taught me.
We have watched a President show grace and class, while being hindered at every turn. He endured the opposition and their barrage on him, his family, his character, his birthright, his skin colour, and more.
I have followed this election very closely. I watched the debates; read many an article; engaged in many conversations; and tried to find the logic in a very illogical situation.
We’ve learned that black or white, male or female, the office of the President and his cabinet is the highest honour that they will achieve in their careers. Some come to the office with personal agendas, or with lobbyists nipping at their heels, but on rare occasion, you find a good one. Not perfect, as no one ever is, but at least one that over time shows you their fabric, and from what cloth they are cut.
Barrack Obama was such a President. When he first took office 8-years ago, the country was divided, and uncertain. Not only was he the first African-American President, but he was the first Democrat that had sat in the Oval Office after 8-years of G.W. Bush. What a mess he inherited.
Without rehashing history, and the list of his accomplishments, and defeats, on this Inauguration Day, I just want to take a moment to say:
“Thanks Mr. President” (#thankspotus)
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Tomorrow, we look to a new era in our regime. A different future that many of thought we’d never get to experience in our lifetime. Friends and neighbours have shown previews of their true colours, and we can actually look at them, and see……..the lights are on and nobody’s home. They have officially drunk the Kool-Aid.
The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy. – MLK
Left Turn into Twilight 