God's Palette (Originally Written 11/2/08)

The weather was crisp and comfortable as I drove on Highway 71 toward Liberty Memorial. The trees smiled in green and yellow and red and the cars traveled as if admiring each leaf and blossom, seemingly ignoring the momentous event about to take place. Each red light made me feel as if I would miss something although I had at least two hours to go before anything important would happen. Finally, I arrived at 31st Street and zoomed off the highway and turned on my left-turn signal. The light turned green and I gave my car more gas, shifted gears and began inching closer and closer to the destination.

I began to suspect that something had been cancelled since the traffic was mediocre at best. But that was a fleeting thought and my mind focused once more on road and the surroundings. I was now in an area that no one wanted to be during the night. Rundown once beautiful and now intriguing old buildings crumble into the streets as ragged souls linger on each corner eyeing each car that passes as if searching for the weakest in the herd.

Liberty Memorial
2 Miles

I was getting near the ubiquitous destination and I could smell the proximity and could feel the excitement slightly tingle across my skin. It arrived with such spontaneity I struggled to make a quick decision, Do I turn right or left on Main or go straight onto 31st Street toward the blocked off street that has a sign saying "EVENT PARKING HERE" pointing at both a parking garage on the right and a parking lot on the left? Consequently, I opted to go straight and park in the parking lot for fear of some sort of toll of the parking garage. The lot was primarily full, except for a couple spots behind the Wendy’s. I pulled in and sat for a couple minutes attempting to come to some moral conclusion regarding my choice to park in a busy establishment’s parking lot but came to the realistic conclusion that if I didn’t park here someone else would and it wouldn’t matter much at all.

I got out of my car, made appropriately sure that it was indeed locked and secured then briskly walked the two blocks to Liberty Memorial. There were many types of people marching to this shared destination, hippie-types, punks, elderly, normal-looking, just about every group you could think of except Goths. I don’t remember seeing any Goths, maybe they don’t attend such gatherings. We all walked to our common goal with reverence for each other, yet in the air there was the odd feeling of obscurity as each person knew they wanted to get there before the person in front of or behind them.

Upon viewing the spectacle of the venue and the mass of people I stopped, admiring the fortitude of these fellow men and women. There were lines of humanity everywhere, chaos. There was no real direction of which way to go, except the woman in official garb directing everyone to the line going downhill, "They’re tellin’ me that’s the shortest way to get in." So everyone got in line. The fastest and shortest line is always the best, right? I followed suit, like a duped child following his friends advice to go ahead and eat the worm.

A lady soon stopped me by calling out, "Sir!! Sir!!" I turned around, unsure whether it was me or another sir that was being summoned. "Is this the way we are supposed to go?" she asked politely.

"Well...yeah...at least that’s what that lady said up there. Who knows really though." I replied almost quizzically. And so, it seemed I had found a friend to relieve me of my self-pity. Damn.

We spoke of politics, life, jobs, writing (she was a journalism major, strange huh?) and religion. The conversations grew sometimes used up and others seemed as though they would never end. It went on this way as we crept slowly toward the bottom of the hill for about an hour.
Suddenly, we neared the bottom and the mounted police directed us back up the hill. For a moment I thought maybe there would be a riot, since there were many son of a bitches and motherfuckers and what the fucks. But ultimately each persons vision centered on the real goal at hand, nearly sprinting up the hill toward the field of green that lie at the foot of the memorial.
And so everyone went, some akimbo up the grassy hill, others conforming to the stairs and some a combination of both, all in a hurry to get a decent spot. Upon arriving at the crest of the hill thine eyes were greeted with a glorious sight of people of different races and cultures. But there was only the quick moment of observation until I was nearly shoved down the stairs as the stampede of people seemed endless and unmerciful. Down the stairs now we went, descending as if the waters had parted and it now our chance to journey between the waves.

Upon arriving on the final plane of the trek, we were greeted with wrestling through the crowd to find a decent standing place. It presented us with a task not as daunting as originally thought and we found a place near one of the stacks of speakers. Finally we were settled in place and I began to look around since all around me I could hear, "There’re snipers everywhere!" and "Obama’s in the second floor from the top over there!"

I failed to see Obama but did spy snipers and police in urban uniform. There were three above the grand American flag which I found strangely poetic, but mostly disturbing. There were children and youth and middle-aged and quarter-agers. A little of everything and everyone. There were even some Muslims for Obama there.

We had been on the premises for nearly two hours and then at around five o’ clock they announced we would be saying the Pledge of Allegiance and listening to the Star-Spangled Banner. The Pledge was spoken and then a girl who tried too hard sang the Banner. And everyone cheered jubilantly of course.

Afterward, Emmanuel Cleever spoke and told a story about his father and how it "‘Taint Enough". I did not find the story to be very engaging personally, rather strained and forced. Susan Montee approached the mike and said nothing I recognized as significant until she said, "Since they took away straight ticket voting we need to go down the list and mark each Democratic candidate, that way we can be sure we get the change we want." Ok, whatever but what about making the right choices?

Then Kathleen Sebelius spoke amidst cheers after her introduction. Her words seemed muffled in my mind as I was still processing Montee’s statement. After she spoke and the cheers for Obama died down, the crowd was treated to more music, well the five songs they had on repeat anyway. Boredom began to sit in as everyone silently stood wondering what no one was coming right out with saying, "When in the world is Obama gonna speak and when is this music going to stop. The same five songs. Come on, throw some variety in there!"

But we all stood live perfect statues, except for the few attempting to get the impossible ‘great view’. The crowd was far too thick at this point. Men sat with their children on the grass behind us, playing cards. Women gabbed and talked about their church, their families and their hair to the left. A short, young man and his wife stood to my right, he was reading Catcher in the Rye and she was reading a novel whose title was nondiscernable to me. Most of the crowd was fidgeting their necks here, there and everywhere, their eyes searching for the man whose popularity swayed republicans to democrats and right to left.

Suddenly as if a sign from God Himself, a preacher rose up on the stand to give the eulogy of the Obama’s speech on that day. The prayer was eloquent and grotesque as I began to wonder when it would end and why all the vibrancy and poetic charm when God knows man’s hearts more than man knows his own. The prayer seemed to last an eternity, people cheered during all the correct cues (which is wrong too, I think, but who am I to judge?). The closing arrived and the blessing commanded a residence on Obama’s lips, for him to speak truth and wisdom and (without saying it, not to screw up) freedom to all the people waiting and watching. Cheers.
Obama approached the stand with the grace and command of a leader, but my heart did not jump as I watched this man whom I had admired for nearly two years. A man who I had been rooting for from the beginning, and I had only recently been swayed to vote otherwise due to his vote cast in favor of the $85 Billion bail out. Perhaps that is why I was not overwhelmed with excitement. Nevertheless, his words rang with his mix of assurance, intelligence, humanness, decency, honor and humor.

He told stories, spoke of plans and it felt as if he were speaking to you amidst the crowd of seventy-five thousand. His voice arose from the little stand with clarity and generosity as people filled the air with their voices and faith. It was almost as if they worshiped him as they cheered and uniformly screamed his name. I found myself clapping, but as is my nature, I did not let out any guttural shout or yelp of ‘OBAMA!’. I listened and continued to scan the crowd and admire the diversity, yet also in wonder at some of the blatant rudeness that emitted from eyes and sometimes mouths of people who shared a common motive on this evening.

Women stared commandingly vicious at those attempting to wedge their way somehow closer to the front while men uttered blatant hyphenated profanities directed at those same that were murdered by the eyes of en-angered women. The absurdity of human behavior in this situation drew towards the forefront of this experience. No wonder I preferred solitude.

The speech drew to a close with Obama’s booming voice transforming the crowd (as he had done for the last forty-five minutes) into a raving band of banshees and Vikings who cheered at the spoils of war and the ecstasy of words. Obama waved, raising his angelic rolled-up shirt-sleeve upward. Atop it sat his ebony hand and fingertips, designed by a God who painted each one of us, all in the different colors of His palette.