Wildly enthusiastic, cautiously optimistic

May the Force be with us.

Change We Need. Ryder read the bold message on the thousands of signs being waved by the nearly delerious crowd of believers at the live Obama event at the conclusion of his 30 minute "infomercial" broadcast on all the networks in prime time (except ABC). He said that Obama is Yoda, speaks he like him. Yes, Ryder, right you are-- the knight of the good force, and may this force be with us all. When I think about what he evokes in me, I get goose bumps and tear of joy in my eyes. Change we need, indeed we do! My Goodness, there is so much tumult building to this incredible conclusion, the economy crashing, feeling for the bottom, the markets waiting to rebound with the affirmation of a new progressive administration. The desperate millions of Americans with out healthcare, facing eviction after foreclosure, in worse straights than any of us have faced since the Great Depression. It took a leader with great vision, tremendous resolve, and comforting equanimity to guide the country back and once again, we will call upon a man with the same qualities as FDR to help us help ourselves. The darkness must end. The failed policies of the last 8 years that have plunged us into a war with no end in sight and into economic catastrophe. We are no longer the trusted and most admired country in the world, instead, we are now regarded with disdain, disbelief and disgust. But it is not anti-Americanism, it is anti-Bushism. If the whole world could vote, Obama would be elected by a unamamous landslide. Unless the Republicans steal the election by preventing the majority of Americans from casting their vote or having their votes count-- Barack Obama will be elected as the next President of the United States.

The contrast between Obama and McCain is so stark it is hard to understand how anyone could be undecided. All that McCain inspires is anger. He inspires his supporters with hate and vitrol. Nothing positive, all hate. And Carabou Barbie whips her crowds of admiring supportores into a lynch mob hysteria. Their racism is barely concealed-- refering to Obama as "that one" or shushing his supporter who yelled that Obama was an Arab--no, no, he's not an Arab, "he's a decent family man." In other words-- Arabs and by extension, Muslims are not decent family men. And Barbie was celebrating the pro-America parts of the country. Hello? Isn't Illinois a part of America too? Nothing positive. All devicive, angry desperate attempts to sway the masses. But it is not going to work.

They are now replaying parts of the 30 minute Obama commericial. It was so impressive! Masterfully done hitting every of the issues straight on, with never mentioning his opponent or saying a single negative thing. And how does McCain respond-- a bolus of negative hateful attack ads. True to each of their forms. All McCain can say is bad things about Obama. Obama instead speaks of his vision with a true eloquence that inspires and lets us cling to our belief that we deserve the change he can bring. Change we need, yes! Change we can believe in, yes! Change we will deliver on November 4th-- please! I shudder to think of the response of the angry millions if somehow they perpertrate the greatest act of fraud in history-- it is the only way McCain could win because it is clear that the vast majority of Americans are hungry for the change that only Obama can bring. The skies would darken with the toxic smoke as the disinfanchised multitude strikes back. Riots worse than Watts 65, or Chicago in 68. No Way. We can't let them win. Come on, bring it on! I am heading to Indiana this weekend to help our hoosier allies deliver their state to Obama. They are so excited to sense that they can make a difference, that for once, their vote in Indiana will count.

Last weekend Ryder and I were camping in the heart of Indiana at Camp Tecumseh with the Y Indian Guides. As we drove through the tiny town of Brokston 10 miles off of I65 not far from Lafayette, we saw several houses boldy displaying Obama yard signs. There it was, a clear sign that Indianan is not the Republican stronghold the McCain campaign has been counting on. And maybe we can help the campaign deliver the state to the good guys. Indiana, Ohio, Florida, North Carolina, Colorado-- true blue afterall?

Just a little trouble in the Big Ugly

No doubt about it, we are living in troubled times. With the economy on the skids, and great uncertainty in the looming Presidential election, it seems people are just a little bit more on edge than usual. Tough times bring out the worst in people, and also the best. I have a sense that people are banding together to fend off the wolf at the door and the feeling of community is stronger than ever. At the same time, the disconsolate are angry and their emotions sometimes get the better of them. And then again, maybe things are just they way they are and some folks are just folks and others are just kids-- looking to cause trouble.

It was a very tough week riding to work last week, traveling through the heart of the hood on my bike route from Oak Park to UIC. Unusually warm for late September and I was hard pressed to make a deadline so I was working later than usual and riding through The Big Ugly when lots of people were out on the streets. The term Big Ugly was coined by "Da Editor" and I took exception to my bike route being referred to this way. I contended that you can find beauty everywhere, even if its the glinting of the sun's first rays on the broken glass that litters the way. I blogged about this last year: http://virtualbuck.blogspot.com/2007/06/beauty-in-big-ugly.html, and have continued to see more of the beauty than the ugly in the Big Ugly. Its not the physical world where the beauty lies (at least not on this bike route), but its the beauty we experiece in the people we meet along the way. The sentinels of the west side are so familiar to us that we have formed bonds with them. The newspaper sellers who greet us early in the morning--the meliflulous voiced guy on Kostner and Harrison who yells "icecream!!!!" giving us high fives as we ride by. Just west of Kostner, in the crook of the big bend, the very heart of K-town, ground zero, we see Lucky, who sits on his bucket on the corner of Kilbourne and Harrison, clicking his imaginary stop watch as we ride by, and saying "yes sir, yessir...".

Just opposite Lucky's corner is the Holy Temple of the Community of God Worship Center, a white clapboard storefront church and community food pantry, Reverand L Carter's ministry. This summer in front of Reverand Carter's church, a very friendly and outgoing gent has been selling water, two bottles for a dollar. I've started stopping, giving him a dollar and he'll slide the water into my paniers for me after he makes sure I get some cold ones. On one of these recent, very warm afternoons, I stopped and bought some water, and chatted for a few minutes. He asked if I did triathalons and suggested I must be in pretty good shape riding all the time. I told him, jokingly, that just riding through this neighborhood got my heart rate up. He laughed, and his companion who was sitting at the table on the sidewalk laughed uproariously. Then he said "you don't know the half of it, I don't want to get you alarmed, but you know that viaduct right there? There was two murders in the last two weeks right there. And you should hear it around here at night." He held his finger in the shape of a gun pointing into the air and said, "bang, bang, bang...." I told him that I really appreciated that he was looking out for us when we rode by. To which he replide "Oh no, its not me who's looking out for you, " then, in a perfect preacher's voice pointing to the sky, he sang out "its the Lord above who is looking out for you". I bid him adieu and rode on home, struck by the thought that while I ride through there everyday, he lives there 24/7-- ground zero. The folks who live there hate gun violence and gangs even more than we do-- it affects their daily lives all the time. I really enjoyed my interaction with the good Reverand, and believed this gent to be the Reverand Carter himself.

Then came the trouble. It was a Wednesday evening, approaching 5:30. I was sitting at the corner of Kedzie and Congress waiting for my riding partner, Paul who'd had to change his plans at the last minute and had called, but I didn't hear my phone ring. So I just sat on my bike, waiting. A group of 4 or 5 teenagers ambled on by. One of the kids was dressed like a gangsta, and was carrying a 3 foot long crowbar, smacking his palm, play- fighting with his friends, pretending to hit them. Innocent fun, it seemed, but I avoid looking at them too closely so as to not attract their attention, though they did make me a bit nervous. They wandered away, and I dutifully sat waiting. When the group with the crowbar wielding gagnst wannabe turned and headed back towards me, I decided it was time to go and rode on west, hoping Paul was OK.

I dismissed the incident and contined on my merry way. I sometimes feel like a jolly yahoo, waving to all the folks who sit on the porches and watch me ride by day after day. They are always there and we recognize each other-- I'm the white guy riding his bike waving at them-- no doubt not what they usually see from their porch perch. Reveling in a way, and feeling rather insular, protected in my cacoon of good intention and warm feelings for my fellow beings, I had become unwary. Riding along after picking up some water from the good Reverand, west of Cicero and cruising, I saw three youths standing on the corner, of LaVergne and Harrison in front of the school. As I gathered speed, riding through the stop sign I saw the tallest of the three step out into the street and face me down. He could have been stepping out to look for his bus, or perhaps he was going to give me high fives as folks along the way often do. I stayed the course and bore down directly towards him, not even thinking about evading him, and as I got near him he took a swing at me and slapped me hard on the arm with his open palm. It stung like hell and shocked me. I thought about stopping and going back to tell him my opinion of his affrontery, but instead, picked up the pace and rode away from his as quickly as possible, never looking back. Suddenly I was made AWARE again. My unwariness was vanquished and the hostile envinroment surrounding me frightened me. I was both angry and had my feelings hurt-- how dare he do that to me? Doesn't he know I'm just like him? Becuase I reach out to his homies I deserve to be treated with respect.... no, I am just an easy mark. Some white dude riding alone in his neighborhood, daring to stay the course and challenge him instead of swerving out of the way into passing traffic to avoid his "greeting." Had he been alone he wouldn't have had friends to show off for. If I'd been riding two up, he'd likely not have done it either. It really gave me second thoughts about how safe I've come to believe I am riding through the wilds of west Chicago.

The next day, riding home, alone again, I stopped to visit the Reverand and buy some water. We had a nice chat and I told him about this incident. He gave me some advice--"this is what you do, " he said "you stop here, get some water, rest up for a few minutes, then get on your bike and ride like hell just as fast as you can past there!" Ah, some great advice. I learned also, in this conversation, that his name is Howard, his companion is Rosie, he is the Reverand Carter's nephew and caretaker of the church. And that our long time bucket sitting friend who lives on the corner is named Lucky. And he said that Lucky may not "be there" but he sure isn't stupid. I continue on my way, reminded to be aware, but not to fear. These are just folks and I can tell they appreciate that I am open and friendly. And I can also tell that gangs of teenagers do not appreciate my karma quest but see me as yet another target for their angst and an easy distraction from their boredom.