Dan's Papers - November 7, 2008 - A Hope for America, & What I Learned from Big Brother

Tuesday, November 4. A glorious day on the East End. The morning sky was bright blue and the early temperature was almost 60 degrees.

The sun is shining. The yellow-turned leaves of a cherry tree vibrate against a cobalt sky. The oranges and reds of oaks and elms shine fluorescent in the bright sun. There seems to be an unusual amount of color.

It's a day of great promise and of hope, perhaps foreshadowed by The New York Times headline "The '08 Campaign: A Sea Change for Politics as We Know It."

Today's historic election has brought with it an inkling of newness and a glint of optimism for a return to a more human way of life. There is a feeling today (in fact, there has been for the last few months) that harkens to another exciting time in this country. Yes. The '60s, when the promise of hope, a notion of freedom and a new direction spearheaded by fresh thinking injected every aspect of our society, culture and politics.

I was 13 years old in 1969 - easily one of the most outrageous years in modern history. In January, the Jets won the Super Bowl, Nixon was inaugurated, and the Paris Peace Talks began. In March, Vietnam experienced the heaviest bombing to date (3,000 tons), and James Earl Ray was convicted in the assassination of Martin Luther King.

In July, a man walked on the moon for the first time. The moon. In August, the Manson family went on a killing spree, and that same month, by great contrast, the ultimate happening of peace, love, and great music - Woodstock - happened.

In 1969, while I was babysitting my 5-year-old niece, I was distracted by a song that came on the radio. At 13, granted, I was easily distracted, but this song could've pulled a person out of a coma. There was a screaming, aching guitar solo that bended upward into a distorted question. The voices singing in ensemble were eerily engaging - low, hollow, unprecise. Then a solo voice. Loud. Rough. Wild. A man? Woman? Couldn't tell.

The song was "Piece of my Heart." The band was Big Brother and the Holding Company. The singer was Janis Joplin. And the feeling was freedom.

Last weekend the Bay Street Theatre presented Big Brother in concert featuring three of the original members and a knockout lead singer, Sophie Ramos. She didn't imitate Joplin, but had the pipes and vocal quality to pull off the songs musically and emotionally enough to "bring us back." Sam Andrew and Peter Albin moaned their whoahs and yeahs in that same spontaneous and messy way they did almost 40 years ago. The close to capacity crowd was largely a "mature" group of boomers - hippies, intellectuals, flower children and probably more than a few pot heads from the '60s. But no one stood and danced in the aisles. There was not a hint of smoke. Not a match nor candle was waved. Everyone was fully clothed.

Visually, the scene was different from a Big Brother concert of yore, but there was a vibe in the air - something I hadn't felt in a group of people for a while. It was happiness.

And on this Election Day, I also have that feeling: happiness. And out of happiness and a new found freedom, I offer a hope for a new America.

I hope Barack Obama is indeed the transformational figure Colin Powell said he would be. I hope that, with his elegance, intellect and grace, this gentle man will rebuild alliances with American that were destroyed in the last eight years. I hope that he remains true to his word and removes troops from Iraq, a war that has wreaked havoc on American families as so many soldiers return physically and psychicly broken.

I hope Obama carries out a new social referendum that includes giving committed gay couples the same equal rights that were finally offered to his biracial parents in 1962: to be able to marry so that they and their children have the same benefits and protections as families with biracial and/or straight parents. And I hope he can once again elevate this country so that, in the eyes of its own citizens and the citizens of the world, it's respectable and praiseworthy, rather than resented and maligned.

In preparation for a school assembly on Veterans Day, our son has been singing not "Piece of My Heart" but a different tune: the c/w song "I'm Proud To Be an American." Now, at 6 p.m. on election night, I'm hoping I'll be able to share that sentiment with him. I'm beginning to think I might be able to feel that way again myself.