I Heard it Downtown

They say all good things must come to end. Apparently, that also extends to mediocre things.

Today marks the end of an era. My car, a 1997 Mitsubishi Mirage, the Mormon Meteor, has apparently been pronounced totaled and dead. There was no dramatic, spectacular crash or fatality…it appears that it just finally succumbed to a long list of minor ailments, until the price tag to repair it exceeded what its worth (which, I admit, doesn’t take a whole lot, considering I bought it for less than 1,000 bucks).

The ol’ Meteor had a history of coming up small with the pressure was on. If I had to take a carload of people somewhere in a hurry, it would magically switch to 3 Horsepower, and top out at around 30MPH. If I needed to get through a yellow light, it would refuse to accelerate. If I was taking a pretty girl on the date, it would find new and exciting ways to break down, so I couldn’t even drive. It was the automotive equivalent of the Cincinnati Bengals.

And perhaps, like the Bengals, it pretty much went down for good without a fight (although, thankfully *unlike* the Bengals, it also went down without 4 felony convictions). I noticed that my windshield wipers abruptly stopped working a few days ago, so I took the car down to my friendly neighborhood Midas for a looksie. Apparently, my “windshield wiper motor” had broken, a part of my car whose existence I had never even considered until that very moment. Also, because I have a fairly old, Japanese car, said part would take about 2 weeks to get here, and cost about 500 bucks. Just like that, my car was practically totaled.

So I leave the garage feeling pretty upset, and also worried about my drive home, seeing as I’d have to navigate route 71 in the rain without the benefit of windshield wipers. Right after I tried to make my first lane change though, I discovered that I had another problem. None of my lights worked. No hazards, no headlights, no turn signals, nothing. Not satisfied with depriving me of my ability to see whats in front of me, my car decided to blow every freakin’ fuse in my car. Not even my CD player was spared…and now my copy of Bruce Springsteen’s The Rising is stuck in my car. Dammit.

So I had to call AAA to tow my car and bail me out…it was the lamest “accident” story ever. The car still turns on, there is no visible damage…but for all intents and purposes, its pretty much out of commission, since I can only really drive short distances on perfectly sunny days now. The Mormon Meteor. Jan 2006-Nov 2008.

Just because me and the ol’ Meteor didn’t have the same emotional bond as my last car, my baby blue 1985 Olds Cutlass (nicknamed The Blue Boat) didn’t mean it wasn’t useful. A family friend very generously allowed me to use the car when I first got back to Ohio, and desperately needed help to get back on my feet (and later sold me the car). The Meteor took me to physical therapy, to many an Aces High show, and eventually, to the campus of the Ohio State University. Just because it wasn’t glamorous (or always consistent) doesn’t mean I didn’t like it.

But now its done (unless I’m magically able to appropriate a 1997 Mirage Windshield Wiper Motor), and its time to turn the page, and get ready for a car-less few months. I didn’t think the Meteor was going to make the trip to New Orleans anyways…I’ll just have to make that transition a little sooner I guess. (unless any of you guys happen to know anybody who has a beater they might let me rent for a few months. That would be useful)

So yeah. Nobody ask for a ride in the near future

Like my friend Kelly Swope noted today, undoubtedly, there will be several notes floating around facebook on what we all experienced last night. Here are my thoughts on the whole affair, before I take a temporary retirement.

This grueling campaign drew to a close last night, and while most of my friends were on pins and needles with excitement, I felt oddly calm and subdued. While I was clearly going to witness an extremely historic event on my TV that night, the full impact didn’t really sink in. This whole experience was like reading a very long book for months, only to have somebody spoil the ending when you only have a few paragraphs to go. I had been refreshing FiveThirtyEight and Electoral-Vote for months. I knew political statistics in rural Indiana better than I knew the Spanish verbs I was going to be tested on tomorrow. There wasn’t really any suspense. I had already come to terms with an Obama presidency.

For me, that seminal moment where I realized that “holy crap we really are going to elect this guy” happened at his address at the Democratic National Convention in Denver. I could feel the energy from the Pepsi Center through my sister’s dingy TV all the way in Columbus. It was electric. You KNEW something big was about to go down. I dragged up all the superlatives I knew, and breathlessly wrote about it that night. I figured after that, it was just a matter of the math.

But as I was driving to Maya’s last night for our little election night party, the sheer scope of the event hit me again. A generation ago, Black Americans were deprived access to our public universities, civil rights, and in some cases, basic human dignity. Tonight, we were going to make one the face of our country, the President Of The United States. This wasn’t a movie. This isn’t Morgan Freeman, or Samuel L Jackson (THATS IT!! I HAVE HAD IT WITH THIS MUTHATRUCKIN INFLATION IN THIS MUTHATRUCKIN ECONOMY!). This was the REAL DEAL. Whoa.

And you know what? This election was never just about African Americans either. 140 years ago, the state of Missouri would give you a quarter for shooting a Mormon. Now, one leads the US Senate, and another is the likely frontrunner for the Republican Presidential nomination. A woman ran for president and got tens of millions of votes. Another got tens of millions for vice president. A latino ran for president and nobody laughed, and he may very well be our Secretary of State. Glass ceilings are being shattered everywhere. Anybody really can make it in this country.

Me, my sister, and a roomful of friends gathered together for an evening of poll watching, baseless predictions, and more food than any of us could hope to eat. I brought a little notebook (which I brought at first to take notes during the evening, but promptly got caught up in the moment..and didn’t touch my pen after 9 PM), where everybody put down their electoral predictions. We haggled over what the appropriate prize would be, and decided that the winner gets to name Maya’s baby. (I won, by the way). Sorry Mark. You should have been at the party.

I had been pretty brash and overconfident coming into the night, so I have to admit, I started to get pretty worried when Virgina was showing a McCain advantage for the first few hours. I was grabbing laptops, trying to bring up county by county data to reassure myself, and everybody else (but mostly myself). “I don’t get it…Nate Silver clearly foretasted Obama had a 98% chance of winning VA…Northern Virgina hasn’t come in yet…uh..uh….crap.”. We decided there was a secret media cabal set up to keep the election from being called until late at night.

“Next, on CNN, we’re going to call UTAH AND WASHINGTON DC?? Will Obama win anything else? STAY TUNED FOR ANOTHER 30 MIN!!”. They also had this terrible habit of shading states blue or red after maybe 6 votes had been counted. I think everybody collectively crapped their pants when they saw Texas turn blue for a few fleeting moments. Anderson Cooper! Cut it out!

Eventually, things started to settle down and fall into place. The room erupted into cheers when we learned that Ohio had repented from 2004, and gone for Obama. I began to get texts from (perhaps slightly tipsy) friends from all over the country. Forget what CNN might tell you. I’m taking some of the credit here. The “I Heard It Downtown.com” vote was huge. I think it might have been as many as 6 people.

Gradually, the suspense died down, more and more states turned from yellow to blue, and Obama was formally named as our new president-elect. John McCain gave a great concession speech…a pity that he couldn’t have channeled some of that mojo a few months ago. McCain is a good guy that got mixed up in the wrong crowd, and I worry that people will forget his decades of service because Steve Schmidt made him do some stupid things (Sarah Palin? Seriously? I should send them a thank you card).

This election was a referendum on the failed Bush polices, but it also meant so much more. This proved that by organizing together, traditionally maligned demographic groups (young voters, minorities, etc)
can actually impact government and enact change. This is the most important legacy of this election. Nobody can say that your vote doesn’t matter, that you aren’t part of the right group.

Rudy Gulliani and other Republicans openly mocked the idea of community organization…the idea that regular people can band together and actually make changes in their neighborhoods (Rudy’s was my favorite. LOL OMG WHAT DOES A COMMUNITY ORGANIZER LIKE…DO? LOL. But Seriously folks. 9/11.) I pray that people will sustain that energy that they used to elect Obama to clean up their own schools, their own blocks, their own cities, and not lose it when things go sour (which they will).

This is a difficult time for America…and we shouldn’t be so foolish as to think that our problems will go away just like that. It will take time, and sacrifice from everybody. I hope that we can bury our hatchets, roll up our sleeves, and get to work…not just our congressmen, not just Obama, but everybody.

Together, we can build a better America for ourselves, and for the next generation..people like Maya’s new baby…my neiphew.

Because lets face it. With a name like Lebron Rutabaga Charizard Zimmerman, he’s gonna need all the help in life he can get.

Note: I’m going to take an extended break from facebook notes for a while I think. This month is famous for two things. No Shave November, and National Novel Writing Month. I’m going to dedicate my time to trying to write some fiction, and maybe growing a beard. it’ll be fun.

“Ain’t you a bit..you know, old to be trick or treating?”

It was a perfectly fair question. 21 year olds don’t typically dress up in costume and lug around pillow cases, looking for Halloween loot. I admit, I did feel a little bit like a creeper, as I was being passed by 5 year olds in Batman costumes.

Of course, I wasn’t trolling for Snickers Bars or Smarties…I was trick or treating for spare change for charity, with my APO brothers. Most of the time, folks tossed in a handful of quarters into my sack, (I managed to charm a few homes with McCain signs on them with my costume…the Liberal Elite Media), but a few insisted on throwing candy in there as well….which got me thinking of a simpler time.

Halloween is a very different holiday when you’re in college. When we were little kids…it was AWESOME, right up there with Christmas. You got a chance to dress up as something cool (maybe your parents loved you enough to get you popular cartoon character costume or something…with that Ninja Turtles outfit, you’d be the boss of 3rd grade!), hang out past your bedtime, and fill up an entire pillowcase with enough candy to send you into a diabetic coma. The trick for me would be finding a way to sneak my stash into my room, before my mother could steal it, and check it for Razor Blade/Poison/All the Chocolates she liked.

I personally wasn’t so wild about the chocolate. The best candy for me were the sweet tarts/smarties sort of thing. The more brightly colored, the better. I wanted a candy that would turn my blood into high fructose corn syrup, which was a great idea for a kid with bad case of ADD, before they invented things like Ritalin.

Who cared that it was about 8 degrees, and that parka that mom threw on you obstructed your totally awesome costume? You were getting a bunch of treats that your mother would never purchase with her own free will FOR FREE…not with any of that emotional baggage of Valentine’s day. Whats better than that? Who doesn’t like candy?

But sadly, we grow out of it, and Halloween becomes something totally different. The costume replaces the candy as the focal point, and that’s kind of a stressful endeavor. If my trips down High St. are any indication, girls seem to have it a lot easier…you basically just go in your underwear, or pick any noun, and add “sexy” to it. When you were 7, you might have gone as a cat. When you’re 20, thats not socially appropriate. You go as a sexy cat.

When you’re a dude, you don’t really have that option. Lets be honest here people…nobody wants to see this wearing less clothing. We have to be creative. I mean, this part is still fun and all…but be honest with yourself. Whats really better…a fun party (or two) where you dress up as something clever, or a crap ton of candy? Was growing up here really that smart of a choice?

I’ve discussed this with a few of my classmates, and we’re starting to think that maybe all this growing up wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Sure, having increased freedom and autonomy is wonderful, but as I sat balancing my checkbook and paying bill after bill Saturday morning, I couldn’t help but long for simpler days. Instead of panicking over my uncertain future after graduation in an extremely shaky economy, I would worry if Mom would let me stay up late to watch Monday Night Football. Instead of worrying about money, I’d fret over my 3 paragraph essay on Ohio History. Heck, even High School was simpler. Outside of a few harried months worrying about my college future, my biggest high school fear was my girlfriend’s dad.

I guess thats the way it goes…with greater autonomy and freedom comes greater responsibility. With grown up fun comes grown up worries, and there really isn’t any turning back. I guess I’m ready to accept that…but who here wouldn’t love another chance to play in the Ball Pit at a McDonald’s PlayPlace again for a little bit?

Yeah, I guess the guy was right. I am a little old to be trick or treating. But since I’m out here…if you want to throw some of that candy my way….