Last night all three of us were driving home from dinner. Sara and I were discussing Adult Things, probably something like paying bills or eating vegetables. Besh was playing his small red guitar and singing a toddler medley of Farmer in the Dell, Sweet Caroline, and Disturbia. Then he stopped.
Besh: “Mommy! Daddy! Stop talking, please. I’m trying to sing!”
Besh,
I realize you are too young to understand what happened last night right now, but I hope someday you do. On some level I even hope you don’t–that this just becomes a step for this nation and we accept it, integrate it into our character, and move on, making it no different than when you started walking or talking. But I wanted to write this to you now while I am still caught up in it.
Last night taught so many the lesson most of us knew deep down: that in this country nothing is more powerful than a possibility. I do not pretend to know half the indignities that African Americans have felt in their lifetime or continue to feel even today, but both your mother and I have known intolerance and cruelty because of our religious beliefs. It is shocking and disheartening and cruel and does not compare to acts inflicted on other groups. But there is always the possibility that people can rise above it, can see the error of their ways, can change. Fifty years ago it would have been inconceivable to have Obama win the presidency. Today it is reality.
But while we celebrate the end of one era of intolerance, we also realize there is another battle on the horizon. If even California is struggling to accept members of our society then the rest of the country is clearly not ready. But they will be, given time and hard work. I hope you will see the end of that intolerance just as your mother and I witnessed the end of this one. And perhaps your children will know an even more accepting nation then the one you will grow up in and they will have to read about that backwards time just as you will have to. That it is not to say we are done–we have miles to go but we’ve come so far. You will grow up in a post-9/11 and a post-Obama world. One was thrust upon us, but one we made happen and we all should be proud.
Always dream, always reach, always work towards your goals. It is always possible. If I can teach you nothing more than that lesson and how to laugh, I will be a successful parent.
Love,
Daddy
This one straight from Sara, as it was too good to edit. Written on Halloween:
Today, we were driving home from school. I was listening to CNN on the radio, trying to lull Besh into a nap. They were intermittently covering the election. Everytime Besh heard them talk about Barack Obama, he said, “That’s Obama on the radio!”
A few minutes later, he said, “Everybody loves Obama. Mommy loves Obama. Daddy loves Obama. Besher loves Obama. EVERYONE loves Obama.”
Then, a few minutes later, he said, “Obama says, ‘Happy Halloween!’”
And then, a few minutes after that, he said, “Barack Obama says, ‘I love you.’”
A few minutes after that - a nap! Whoopee!!
Halloween was a much more active experience this year. Besh dressed as Curious George. No, I was unable to secure a Man in the Yellow Hat outfit.
Story 1. Walking up to a house, Besh saw a boy dressed as Batman.
Besh: “Look, Daddy, it’s a Batman!”
Then he saw a boy dressed as a glow in the dark skeleton.
“Look, Daddy, that’s not Batman!”
Story 2.
Neighbor, handing Besh some candy: “What a cute bear!”
Besh: “I’m not a bear! I’m a monkey!”
