Barak Hussein Obama

After two joyous years working on my first political campaign to support Barak Hussein Obama for president, I was beyond giddy to see hundreds of Obama signs grace the grassy median on Richmond, Virginia’s Monument Avenue in November 2008.  It was a sublime juxtaposition.
This classy young man brought incessant smiles to the faces of the volunteers at the campaign office. Never before had I witnessed blacks and whites of all ages work so joyously and selflessly together: that alone was a beautiful gift.
On the day of the election I served as inside attorney at one of the predominantly African American voting precincts. My counterpart for the Republican Party, a young man in a suit, expressed awe and praise for the efficiency and organization of our campaign. That night I hung a gorgeous new American flag, draped on the full length window of my front door, and left the hall light on all night.
Two months later I greeted my friend and her young son on a cold inauguration day at that front door. My sweet puppy joined me. I opened the door ever-so-slightly, to send out a cheer of welcome and celebration of the day. That little rascal of a happy puppy, squeezed out the door. Before I could stop her, she ran into the street and we lost her. I worried for months before the election that a deranged person might take Obama away from us. That little prancing lamb of a Malti-poo became for me the sacrificial lamb. Later that morning we sat in shock and tears watching the inauguration.
In the eight years that followed, President Obama maintained a grace and baffling internal strength to do what he thought was right. I am ever-so-grateful to him and his family for their sacrifice and courage. And I’m hopeful that they will continue to transform the world for the better.

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