The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

Yes.

I have to admit that I cried a little when I watched Barack Obama's speech last night. The man can deliver inspiration, that's certain. I cried a little for Joe Biden who reminds me of my own dad, with his way of going on and on and saying whatever he is thinking without wondering how it's going to be taken. There's something pure in that, even if he occasionally offends. I cried in relief because the last bit of history has been agonizing and empty, with hope becoming a luxury no one could afford. I cried because the Bidens and the Obamas got on that stage and looked like 'regular people', without the polish and the careful positioning, and there was something uplifting in that. I didn't get sloppy, I didn't unleash a series of snorts and sniffles, I had happy tears trailing down my face and gathering at the bottom of my chin and I didn't feel a need to wipe them away. Amazing how something which has no direct influence over my life can make such a splashy impact. I wasn't the only one, either.

The Americans are good at one thing, that's for sure, and that's provoking tears by way of flashy patriotism. You'd be hard pressed to find another nation that spends so much time and effort in waving their flag and making it seem as though it's as important as breathing. From personal experience, the Irish do a good job of that too, but the Americans just have a way about them, an infectious sort of pride that has you rooting for them even if they're annoying the hell out of you. Canadians are more subdued in general. We wave the flag and we rock back and forth while singing our national anthem, but we keep ourselves calm while doing it and rarely get outwardly sentimental about it. We've fought in most of the same wars, we possess an inherent pride in those who have died for our freedom, but we are more solemn about it when we acknowledge it. We wear the poppies now, showcasing our refusal to forget, but the parades for the veterans are quiet, save for the bleating bagpipes and the click of shoes as they march along the pavement. Some say we lack the passion that the Americans have but I don't see it that way. We're just quieter about it. Patriotism doesn't embarrass us, but excessive volume sometimes does. I have to admit that I often wish we were as vocal about it as our neighbours to the south, though. I like that kind of enthusiasm because it is affecting and sparks the drive and determination of the people who need it most. Obama's speech last night was the perfect blend of drama and controlled certainty, with equal measures of grace and dynamism. I sincerely hope he measures up to the image he has given the world, and suspect that he will.

I remember taking a Canadian history class in University years ago and how passionate I got when discussing the forced composure of Canadian culture. Though I don't remember the context of the discussion, I remember my voice getting louder and my face getting red as I debated with another student about how I had trouble with the serenity of our nation at times, how I felt we needed to stand up more and shout a little louder, and my professor (an odd little man who wore a cloak and wire-rimmed glasses), laughed and clapped because of the 'passion' I had brought to the discussion. I was embarrassed, though, because I knew I didn't understand it all, that sometimes 'passion' is just an uneducated, instinctive response to things when all the information hasn't penetrated. That said, it's my way. I get loud, I shout, I ask questions that most people might already know the answers to and I hear myself outshouting my good sense, helpless to harnessing the flood of emotion and words. I can never figure out if it's a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe somewhere in the middle. I think that this might explain the tension between the French and English in these parts. Whereas the French are loud and speak with their hands (Celine Dion's animated way of talking and carrying on is pretty typical for many French Canadians), the English have a tendency to be reserved and a little cold, at least by way of appearance. It would be interesting to see a study of anxiety/depression disorders contrasting the two groups. I wonder if there would by any significant difference between a group who struggle to repress their emotions and one which doesn't. Hmm...food for thought.

I find it funny that George W. hasn't been visible lately. Sure, he may have thought his presence would negatively impact McCain's bid for the presidency and bowed out of things to give the guy a chance, but I have been wondering how it must feel to know that he has been the worst president in American history. He has a laundry list of black marks, ranging from minor blunders to outright displays of total incompetency. I wonder if he's been sneaking a drink or two, if he's been hiding in a White House closet, rocking back and forth while sobbing in the darkness. I almost feel sorry for the guy. Also, there are members of the administration who should be impeached, starting with Cheney. That whole eight year block of history is a joke, though, for the people who had to live under it, I'm sure it didn't feel very funny. It'll all come out eventually, though I'm not sure it will make any kind of difference in the end.

So, now it's all over and a good man appears to be in control for once. I'm looking forward to a positive shift worldwide, now, and I'm hopeful that things will begin to lighten in all the dark corners. I felt a bit of American pride last night, and I kind of enjoyed it. It wasn't for me, though, because I'm proud of who I am and where I come from, but it's nice to see people celebrating and rejoicing no matter who they are. It does something to those watching, it brings down the walls, takes the heavy weight off the chest.

There's nothing wrong with that.