The Hopemonger

I had great seats in Athens for the cool Saturday evening game in October. Auburn was in town to face the Georgia Bulldogs at Sam Boyd Stadium. This was a huge SEC match-up and the sold out crowd (except for the Auburn faithful appearing as an orange blob in the upper deck) was blacked out. Before a player set foot on the field, it was buzzing.

Last night at Weeks Middle School on the south side of Des Moines, there was no such buzz. The campaign cheerleaders and the loud music seemed unable to overcome the schedule that ran almost an hour late. And neither the esteemed Senator from North Dakota nor the local south side lawyer could generate the sort of enthusiasm you might expect from a crowd waiting for a supposed rock star.

And then in one moment, when Barack Obama appeared from behind the bleachers with that apple pie sized smile, the room was overwhelmed with electricity. My view from the front row, just inside the rope line, saw each facial expression, the gaze in his eyes, the dimples in his cheeks. Unlike any of the other events, the well orchestrated moment caught the energy of a flash mob as instantly everyone in the room who was physically able rose to their feet to catch a glimpse of this man.

Obama is the real deal. Be it his wry smirk or his confident chuckle, this man was born to play the role. He tone and cadence slipped in and out of the African-American preacher, the knowledgeable professor, and dare I say "Moses" (see The Synoptic Gospels of Obama & Huckabee). He exclaimed, "There is no problem we can't solve. No destiny we can't fulfill" and I believed him. While his message was certainly targeted for Iowa Democrats, he broadened his appeal. "Every American from every political stripe wants a new kid of politics." And perhaps his strongest line of the evening was, dare as say Kennedy or even Reagan re-visited. "We don't need more heat in Washington, we need more light."

His perfect pitch (even on his fourth rendition of his speech that day), his coy since of humor ("Normally when you do these genealogies, you hope for Paul Revere...or Willie Mays. And me, I got cousin Dick."), his inspirational rhythm brought the crowd to their feet three different occasions. These people, more diverse than any of the event participants I witnessed, would spontaneously call out to him and he would hear them and answer them.

If there were a man who turned one speech (at the Democratic National Convention in 2004) into a Presidential bid far before his "appointed" time, it is Obama. And while he dragged through the first part of the year, lagging in the polls and failing to impress in the debates, I now understand why his campaign has so much traction. It was here in this gymnasium that he touched people - with a glance, a laugh, and single word or phrase.

"My opponents have said I lack experience, I am naive, and I am too hopeful. Well, when you are a black man with a funny name and you are running for President you have to be hopeful. But they say, 'There goes Barack again, talking about hope.' They must think I am a hopemonger."

I shook his hand twice, exchanged a few words, watched how he carried himself, expressed himself, and touch his audience. There is something different about this man. Something that history will look back on scores of years from now and note with great reverence.

I am privileged to have been in the room. Hopemonger for President.