Celebrating President-elect Obama . . .

We're on the road in Spokane, helping Rachel and Nick pack to move. I've never seen so many boxes, and we ran out of packing materials! Oofta! But I still feel like celebrating the election, so here's a wonderful song, "There's no one as Irish as Barack Obama," wittily written by Hardy Drew and the Nancy Boys, and starting off with appropriate Celtic riffs. What a lovely welcome the world is giving us once again!



This week Sunday Scribblings asks us to write about change. What change can I imagine? I think President Obama will ask each of us to change in the great tradition of J. F. Kennedy, "Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask instead what you can do for your country."

Obama has the vision and the discipline to lead our country back to its highest ideals, and at the core, freedom with responsibility for others. He will ask us to sacrifice, perhaps money or time or a way of life. Capitalism without vision, I have come to realize, leads to selfishness (the "mall" syndrome) and corruption (think "big oil buyouts" and tax breaks). We cannot afford to not "see" what changes are needed to avoid becoming a country of the rich. What I really think of this change is hope. I am remembering those young people and people of every generation and background who were pulled in by Obama's charisma. They stayed to work on his campaign because of his ideals. They will bring change.

Wall Street. Main Street.

I woke up this morning, thinking about money. I know a few people now who've taken money out of their bank and hidden it in their house. If the economy tanks to some pre-Depression era level, money won't help. We'll be back to barter.

I went to Target yesterday to buy garbage bags because they looked pretty expensive at my regular grocery store, as did the olive oil, for heaven's sake. I found just the right roll of garbage bags for $1.35 and cruised the clearance racks while I was there. I saw lots of people there checking the mark-downs. I apologized to the gray-haired cashier for my small purchase. She said, "Don't worry, honey. Every dollar helps."

I know from government reports that more older women (that is, over 60) are "wage insecure", but I don't know how many. I just know that at some point, I need to stop fearing that I will become that gray-haired cashier at a Target-like store and make sure there's enough food to go around.

Everyone has a sense of uncertainty about the future; these seem to be unprecedented times. This is not the "October surprise" I anticipated before the election. Every day makes it more important we study the economic policies of Obama and McCain.

Check out Obama's policies affecting the elderly. McCain has no information about the elderly under issues on his campaign website.

Yesterday Rachel and I dropped off the African quilt to the Cozy Quilt shop for quilting. On larger quilts, I can't do the machine stiching that will hold the finished quilt together, but Lisa was wonderful and showed me this lovely leaf tracery pattern that will embellish my quilt -- by October. Just in time for the annual Quilt Show held by the Washington State Quilters' Association on October 17, 18, and 19, here in Spokane.

How does it feel to finish a quilt? Like most quilters, I'm guessing, I feel a little sad. The challenge is behind me. I know all those dangling threads, the two places that needed patching because I ran out of fabric, the several places that needed reseaming, and the hopes and history that were stitched in each line, not the least being the chance to research African history as well as other family memories that come with certain fabrics.

This week's writing prompt on Sunday Scribblings is about solace -- what gives us solace when all else seems to crumble. Perhaps it's quilting for me, though that's not really an answer. Solace digs deeper. I'm thinking about the view out my office window and how for moments I just like to look at the sky, watch the wrens fly about young aspen saplings. The leaves quiver in the wind, just like the wrens themselves as they hover, land and rush about. Perhaps there's too much of rushing in our lives so that solace comes unexpectedly, in such moments. I don't need long conversations with family and friends to feel settled in myself somehow. Just a word or a look, sometimes a hug, and I feel centered.

I was heartened by two texts this week from Barack Obama -- the inspirational text of his speech in Berlin and his very private prayer this week released to the press amidst great controversy, though, of course, it should have remained private. He asked that his family be safe first, and I feel sad we still have to worry about assassinations. Then he prayed that he not be prideful or carried away by a sense of despair; he asked to be the instrument of God's will. Scribbled on a sheet of paper from a hotel, how his simple words reveal the private person who has such a keen awareness of his weaknesses, vulnerabilities, and yet who sustains a vision of hope. If he is successful in being elected, I think we can take solace in his presidency. At last.