The Day I Grabbed Obama’s Forearm (Part Two): The Madison Rally

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The sound of 19,000 people is overpowering. The sound of 19,000 Obama supporters is indescribable. We watched open-mouthed from our spot near the stage as section after section in the arena was filled. By the time Governor Doyle took the stage to welcome us and to introduce the man who will be the next President of the United States of America, every single seat had a body in it. All three tiers were standing room only. And then it happened –

Obama made his entrance.

All 19,000 of us became a living beast, a controlled riot, an army surging forward in this galactic movement for the preservation of hope. In that moment, as this beautiful, somehow mortal man grabbed hands along the aisle to the podium, we enlisted our collective body and soul to advance the cause he lays before us: to believe that a better world is possible, to believe that we are the ones to make it happen, and to do it, together.

He spoke for 25 minutes or so and, to be honest, I remember very few of his actual words. What I do remember is looking at him and getting for the first time that he is a reflection of us. He is answering this call because we’re asking him to answer it. He inspires us because, for seven years (and longer), we have been parched for a cultural revolution, to see all the wrongs of the world righted, and he is leading us in that charge. Barack Obama transcends politics. He embodies strength, intellect, and empathy. He makes me feel like anything is possible.

After the speech, everything happened in quick detail — the swig he took from a bottled water, his graceful. casual descent into the pit, the seven Secret Service agents swarming him as he greeted those of us smooshed against the barricade. He greeted my mom and then stepped in front of me.

He was not as tall as I expected and, for some reason, that made him seem more real. He clasped my hand and I said thank you, thank you, thank you, you are our future, thank you. Before I knew it, he was moving down the line to Jenn, Jacqueline, and 100 other people. It took me a second or two to realize that I could feel the fabric of his suit jacket, the layer of his dress shirt beneath it. I could feel the moving tendons of his forearm –

Oh, my God I grabbed Barack Obama! Understanding this to be a violation of his personal space and, probably, a threat to Homeland Security, I released him in an instant. Thankfully, I don’t think he noticed. (Secretly, I didn’t want to let go.)

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Filed under Election, Politics, hope, obama