A short while ago I was driving down the road and was abruptly cut off by a man in a large cowboy hat. He was driving a red GMC truck with Alaska plates. It was the biggest car on the street. In the rear window of his cab was an American flag decal, along with the names “James” on the driver’s side and “Michelle” on the passenger side.
And the smile that has been on my face since 8pm last night remained. Were I wearing a hat, I would have tipped it to him.
Had that happened 24 hours ago, it would have probably fueled my anxiety that this country might continue to be run by people who think their demographic is the only one that counts, and shockingly, somehow believed that their view was a majority view.

Now they know that it isn’t. The far right now must face facts. It is just one of many groups in America with opinions and values and a voice. We can stand next to them, and listen to them, but no longer have to have their views shoved down our throat.
Obama promised that he would be listening to everyone, and I’m counting on him to set the tone for the nation. More tolerance, please!
I don’t know how to describe the excitement I felt last night as I watched Pinellas County (in the touted I4 corridor), and later, the entire state of Florida go blue.
I cautiously sent happy text messages to relatives that I knew were sympathetic at least to me, if not to my cause.
“Don’t tell the family,” my brother wrote back, “but I was with you on this one. Congratulations!”
My Nascar and Kenny Chesney-loving brother voted for Obama.
Shortly after I got that text, CNN called the election, and history was made.
My brother and I exchanged a few more gushing texts in which we expressed our love for each other and shared a virtual toast.
After Obama’s acceptance speech, I went out. I’ve never seen Portland in such a state of collective joy. All over town, cars were driving down the street honking. Groups of bicyclists whooped and hollered as they pedaled by. Pedestrians passed out sparklers, banged on pots and pans, high-fived strangers, danced, and yelled, “Yes, we can!”
At one point a car drove by with a huge American flag hanging out of the window, billowing in the breeze, and everyone enthusiastically cheered, with no irony whatsoever. Afterwards some of us laughed and looked at each other and it was clear what we were all thinking. We couldn’t recall the last time we had felt inspired to do that freely, openly, proudly.
For some reason, I haven’t cried yet. I think it’s all still sinking in.
What was the post-election celebration like in your neighborhood?