8 years of “adulting” 8 years of Obama

I graduated college the year Obama was sworn into office. It just dawned on me that Barack Obama has been president my entire adult life.

I’m one of the oldest people who can say this (I’m counting my four years living on a college campus as pre-adult life). I remember the night Obama was elected the pure euphoria that surrounded my college campus. How cool is it that the first vote I ever cast in a presidential election was such a historic one?

We were in the midst of the recession that election, and at first graduating college seemed ominous- would there be jobs for us? I can’t give Obama credit for everything, but the message of HOPE that he preached rang true with my class. My adult world as I know it, as it directly effects me, has always been a world in which Obama was president. The economy in which I’ve looked for and thankfully landed jobs, the healthcare system in which I’ve been treated (and billed- or not, I’m looking at you Birth Control), were all under Obama’s influence. The kids I taught in a Houston, TX public school saw inspiration in a leader that looked just like many of them.

I don’t know what it’s like to be an adult in a world with a different president. I have some idea from watching the adults around me when I was younger; from trying to make my own sense of things. But I’ve never been an adult in that reality.

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I just passed on this awesome book by Nerissa Nields to a younger coworker. Hoping I’ve figured out the gist of it by now, even as things change.

Am I scared of what our new reality will look like? Of course. But I cannot overlook that because I am straight, white, able-bodied, cisgendered, born in America to a Christian family, my fears are nothing. Nothing compared to those minorities fearing for their safety, their rights, their dignity as human beings.

I wish I could say something heartfelt right now to calm those fears. But I don’t know what to say. I’m not in your shoes and I’ve never been an adult in a time like this. Sure, I can continue to offer that I will look for the good in all of us. I will continue to offer sweaty hugs.

I will forge on and figure out what it means to be an adult in a world without Obama as our president. But I’ve got 68 days left to enjoy Obama’s good looks, sports analogies, and sense of humor. And I’m looking forward to December 1st, when, thanks to Obama, I will become eligible for overtime pay.

This four year old has pretty much got it nailed how I feel. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XgtSt_xBwvg

Thank you, Obama, for setting the bar so high, for all our future presidents.

Frog and Toad

I’ll be honest, I voted for Bernie Sanders.

Not yesterday, silly. I voted for him in MARCH. In the months since, I’d been won over by the idea of voting a Hilary Clinton into office. When I woke up yesterday morning, the news was full of reports assuming this would happen. The sun was shining, people were talking to each other in line at the polls, and I thought for a second that the most pissed off I’d be that day would be when I realized my failure to get an “I Voted” sticker had cost me a free slice of cake at the bakery!

I felt so confident about the outcome that I ignored my husband’s requests to stay home and watch the results with him and picked up a shift patient sitting at the hospital (we’re buying a house; we need the money, I reasoned). I ended up watching as the polls closed and the results rolled in, sitting in the ICU, sharing the moment with a man who told me he voted for Trump because he couldn’t have Bernie. Over the course of the shift, the tide turned from his sadness about the projected outcome to my sadness as the opposite happened. I focused on chatting with him about his family, on keeping him as comfortable as possible. I tried not to let on who I voted for, but neither of us could really ignore what CNN was flashing across the screen. We both agreed this campaign season had been brutal.

My shift ended and I walked out into the cold, still night. Unaware of what had happened locally, I turn my car on to hear Sue Minter’s concession speech. Suddenly, I’m crying. Not so much for her loss, but because now I can see it coming. I can imagine another woman giving a concession speech.  Before my shift had begun, I’d looked forward to Hilary’s acceptance speech.

Sure, I’ve cried over news stories before. When people die. But I’ve never cried over politics before. This was a new one.

From looking at my Facebook feed, this is a new one to most of us. We are sad, angry, trying to find meaning, determined, and seeking what is right with the world. I saw both the 4-H Pledge and the Girl Scout Law posted by adults who were trying to come out of that cloud of sadness and remind themselves of what matters.

Today, I helped a Girl Scout troop put their uniform sashes on. I reminded them of how cool it is to be a part of an organization of girls all around the world. That they are “sisters to every girl scout.”

I pause when they recite the Girl Scout pledge and get to the part, “respect authority.”

What if that authority is Donald Trump?

Well my friends, if the lesson we are teaching these kindergartners is correct, then we give him all the respect we can. The children’s book Frog and Toad, with it’s intertwined themes of friendship and goodness, sits on a shelf in the classroom where the girls are meeting. I can hear the voice of my childhood- my dad reading aloud and quoting this book over and over. “‘Rules are rules,’ said the mosquito.”

I remind my adult self that now is not the time to whine over the rules of the electoral collage. “Rules are rules.” It bothers me to the core when kids struggle to loose graciously in a soccer match or something seemingly trivial. I hope that I can teach them to be better sports when loosing.

So today, I’m trying to practice what I preach. I’m trying to role model gracious loosing. I’m trying to show these kids what sisterhood and respect look like right in their own schools. These kids are the future, the light at the end of the dark tunnel of the next four years. They need us to guide them through that tunnel.

To remind them that there is good in all of humanity. To remind them what love feels like. To read them Frog and Toad aloud. Be there in this tunnel for our children, for our minorities, for those living in fear. Be there for your friends, your neighbors and yourself. The tunnel will end. Be there and be yourself.

Be yourself. Because you are not Donald Trump. You do not preach hatred. Even if you voted for him, I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. I have to. I have to trust that there is some good in all of humanity; in all of the proverbial Frogs and Toads. I tried to find that connection last night in the ICU. I’m trying to help our children find it. And I know you’ll help them and you’ll seek it, too.