the election from over here

I haven't said much about the presidential election in this blog, but it has obviously been on my mind every single day I have spent here. The level of awareness and knowledgability about the election among my non-American friends and classmates has been amazing, and I have been startled by how much everyone feels is at stake for themselves and their countries. They have watched the Tina Fey-as-Sarah Palin SNL clips, editorialized in student newspapers, and followed this fall's debates. Even before I left the States, I knew that the outcome of this election would have an enormous impact on how non-Americans would react to me. The last six weeks have proven that I was not only right, but underestimated the impact.

Yesterday and today, I have been getting high fives and congratulations everywhere I have gone. For the first time in my adult life, there's some serious cachet in being an American in Europe. And I don't think the enthusiasm is excessive. People here are realistic, as I believe I am, about what Obama's election means. Nobody believes he is a messiah, or that he won't make mistakes or always take the course that will make him popular abroad. America's image has gotten so bad under the Bush administration that merely the repudiation of the last eight years is itself a huge relief. There's a recognition, voiced by Americans and non-Americans alike, that President Obama will have very little to work with given the poor economy, the debt, and our military commitments in Iraq and Afghanistan. But above all, I think people are just impressed with who Obama is. I don't think the phrase "American dream" will be used in an ironic way here anytime soon.

I spent election day in a weird state, full of nervous energy but mentally in a fog. It was the first time I can remember since high school when I worked out twice in the same day, with a swim in the morning and a run in the afternoon. Most polls on the East coast didn't close until 1 a.m. GMT, but luckily I had some evening entertainment to keep me distracted: a James Bond "Casino Royale"-themed formal dinner at Christ's College, to which Emma's MCR was given an allotment of tickets. After that it was back home to change out of my tux and then to the college, where I was hosting the election night party in the MCR.

I stayed up until 6 a.m. with a small but hardy band of Emma folks who wanted to hold out for the speeches. I thought John McCain was incredibly gracious. He could have dodged the momentousness of the election, but he embraced it. Unfortunately, his supporters were ugly, and I think it bodes ill for the Republicans if this is what's left of their rank-and-file. I also thought President-elect Obama's speech was great. I expected I might cry, and I did tear up at one point... I'm a little embarassed to admit it, but it was when he told his daughters that they could have a puppy in the White House. I guess it was a combination of the overwhelming significance of our first black president, my sense that the "moral values" that I subscribe to finally carried the day, and a tender moment that tapped into my own ambitions for fatherhood.

The news wasn't all good-- the loss for marriage equality in California and the congressional races in Alaska put a damper on my glee. But on the most important battle, for the first time since I gained the right to vote, I feel like the good guys won. I am proud and thankful to be an American every day, but today there's just a little bit of extra relish.

with obama in canada

Jasper, Alberta / Mile 1,959 – I am sitting in a bar in Jasper town, slightly delirious from fatigue after a grueling 30-hour, 1,200-mile push from Whitehorse. Miraculously, your three weary travelers are still friends after so much quality time in my little Honda Accord; I believe the fact that no eyes have been gouged out is a testament to the character of everyone involved. (Don't worry, Mom, I didn't do all the driving myself-- Samantha and I took turns, and Elise would have helped too except for the fact that a theft in Zambia robbed her of her license.) We were treated to a menagerie of critters that included fox, lynx, elk, deer, a porcupine, and several herds of buffalo, some of which wandered onto the highway. Along the way I discovered many new techniques for remaining alert during a monotonous nighttime drive. One of the best tips I can offer is to put your iPod in random mode, because nothing will keep your brain alert than not knowing if you're going to hear Vivaldi or Modest Mouse next. I also conjugated Spanish verbs, recalled the handful of poems I have memorized, and reconstructed my daily class schedule for every year from sixth grade until senior year at Williams. Your results may vary.

Over the last two days, we drove the Alcan all the way to its over-hyped origin in Dawson Creek, B.C., and then crossed into Alberta en route to the first of two magnificent national parks. We stopped for a picnic in a kitschy "forest" of random road signs from around the world, and we took a relaxing soak in the warm, stinky waters of Liard River Hot Springs. Among the many roadside attractions we passed, only the hot springs, in my humble opinion, is worth its salt. (Calcium sulfide, to be precise.)

During many of those blank miles, Barack Obama was on my mind-- and not for the reason that you'd think, as the news coverage of the Democratic convention up here is basically nil. Before leaving Anchorage, Samantha and I bought an audiobook of Dreams from My Father, with Obama himself doing the reading. We popped the CD in during the long and desolate stretch where the Alcan weaves back and forth between the Yukon and British Columbia, where a lone trash can merits a roadside pullout and signs for two kilometers in either direction.

Dreams from My Father, for those not familiar with the book, is Obama's memoir of his struggle for identity, written long before his political career took off. The book is a far more candid and real glimpse into the character of a presidential candidate than we can probably ever hope for again. Nobody who knows me would doubt that I'm rooting for Obama in November, but listening to Dreams has made me really, really, really want him to be President. Above all, I was struck by his ability to sympathize with, and manage the dialogue between, all of the wildly different characters in his life story--black and white, American and foreign, rich and poor. His is the very antithesis of the with-us-or-against-us attitude that has so completely squandered America's moral leadership and the world's good will toward us over the last eight years. It seems easy to dismiss Obama as a smooth-talking peddler of empty bromides about change and bringing people together. But give the man a microphone for a few hours and listen to him talk about his life, and it is not hard to imagine him calming the passions of belligerent world leaders or presiding over a vigorous debate in a Cabinet of the best and brightest. There's more to say, but it's long past time for me to go to bed... more from Banff in a couple of days.