Where Were You?

On November 4th, 2008. When white turned black, and red turned blue. When all colors were rendered equal and universal.

Where were you?

Were you marching back through time, by way of Selma and Birmingham, measuring our nation's stride? Were you leaping forward, sizing up today's canyon, envisioning a bridge to tomorrow? Were you disappointed, anxious and fearful, wondering if the world's new CEO will be overmatched?

Regardless of your perspective. Regardless of your party. Remember your perch.

November 4, 2008 will be etched in bold forever.

As for me, I watched the returns with a handful of friends, bubbly waiting on ice. When the polls in California closed, the wait was over. At 10:00 P.M. Central, our party commenced.

For many left-leaning Americans the last eight years have been a seemingly unending climb -- two parts Everest, two parts disbelief -- the summit never visible, always farther up the beanstalk, a distant rumor in the clouds.

But even rumors bear fruit. So it was on a balmy, November Chicago night -- an aberration in itself -- that Barack Obama became the 43rd President of the United States.

Our champagne flutes, they did overflow.

Then, after the last drop of blissful bubbly was consumed, we hailed the first cab streaking south. Our destination: Grant Park.

Security was tight and most of the spectators heading to the Park would be taking in the festivities via Jumbotrons or a Hubble telescope. Luckily, two incredibly gracious friends helped to ensure that my friend Gina and I would be participating inside the ropes (thank you Daisy and Amy!).

Grant Park was red bull on cocaine with a little "Sugar in the Raw" to boot: the pulse of the crowd never dipped below 150 BPMs.

Moments after our arrival (per always, we were running late) the Obama legions rose and roared; the 44th President was before us.

History's arc altered forever.

Not that we were close to the President elect. Not that it mattered.

When you are part of a transcendental moment, it doesn’t matter whether you are in the first row or the last. Whether you are in Debuke or Delhi.

You just want to be a part of the text.

On Tuesday night, our storyline was that of a congregation. A mass of jubilation, with every creed, race, and age represented. The likes of which I'll never see again.

Amazingly, it was only four years ago that I hosted a fundraiser with a group of friends for Barack at Brehon's Pub. That was a week before the Democratic Senatorial Primary.

On election night 2008, there were 200,000 supporters at the pub. A lot can happen in four years.

Which should serve as a reminder that -- in every aspect of life -- scales do tip, seas do part, and hope springs eternal.

And if Match.com ever gets its act together and produces a partner for this OldTownFunGuy, thirty years hence, I’ll be able to tell my children that I was there.

There with the masses, as we took over Michigan Ave. There with everlasting friends, wading through a sea of Obama blue. There as Barack Hussein Obama reminded us of that fundamental truth: “that out of many, we are one.”

I was there.

"If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer."