Thank god yesterday was Wordless Wednesday because I was literally at a loss for words. How can you describe the indescribable?  How can you describe history in the making?

Tuesday night was a night I will never forget, as I sat there with my mother, my father and my son.  It was truly historic.  As my 77 year old history professor father said, “Never in my life have I been more thrilled at the outcome of a presidential election.  The whole world will be better for it.”  

Um, he also said, “”Whoopdee-do!”  ”Hotdiggetydog!”  and  ”Yowsa, yowsa, yowsa!”

With my mom and I, each on a lap top switching hysterically between CNN, MSNBC, and any other news channel we could get ours hands on, we were nervous wrecks.  I was flipping frantically between people’s updates on Facebook, a live chat blog on The Huffington Post and The Daily Kos. 

That was until Obama won Ohio.  And we did the math.  And the numbers couldn’t lie.  And then… and then, it was nothing but, “Can this really happen? Is this really HAPPENING?!?!”

I still get chills when I remember CNN announcing “We project Barack Obama the winner of this election...” I looked at my mom with tears in my eyes and said, “OF THE WHOLE THING!??!”

We were both weeping when Obama came out, into that over-filled, electric crowd in Chicago. But when I saw Jesse Jackson crying, that’s when I lost it.  I knew that this man, whatever your opinion of him, has been through so much. And for him to see this moment happen, well it was all I could do to not hyperventilate in my tears.

Our 44th President sure has his work cut out of him come 1/20/09, (only 75 days left, but who’s counting)however, with BOTH the House, the Senate and with the people of this country behind him, I truly have nothing but HOPE.

The American people spoke loud and clear on Tuesday night.   And for the first time, in a long time, I am PROUD to live in this country and to call myself an American. 

Yes, We Can.
Yes, We Can.

My father, bless his heart, is truly a minimalist.  He’s just not a fan of many material processions.  In fact, whenever Ben and I are leaving their house (which is almost on a daily basis) my dad always looks around desperately trying to give us something.  Just to get it out of the house!

“Wait!  Is this your book?”
“No Dad.  I just brought that back today.  It’s Mom’s.”
“Oh, OK.  But this is your sweater, right?”
“Nope.  Again, that’s mom’s.  She bought it this afternoon.”

Whenever I do inherit something from them, the only rule is, it NEVER COMES BACK INTO THAT HOUSE!

The few things that my dad does have, he covets.  He still has sweaters from 1972.   Ties from his student teaching days and of course, His Chairs.

This chair he got in 1965, in his first year in Madison. 

My father explains, “…figuring that a comfortable chair was essential equipment for an academic, just as a good saw would be for a carpenter.”

As you can see, it has been loved.  A lot!  Hundreds of baseball and football games have been watched in this chair, and thousands of books have been read in this chair.  I vividly remember being a little girl and sitting on his lap while he read me Winnie the Pooh.  I’m pretty sure it will stay in that house forever.  

But recently I told my father, “Dad, um, your chair now has a new huge tear in the back.” 

To which he responded, “Let me tell you something.  It isn’t the chair that’s the problem!  It’s Duck tape!  They don’t make a maroon colored Duck Tape.  I have looked everywhere and can’t find any!  The chair is in great shape.”

My mom lets this go because this chair is in his study and away from public eye.

This chair, on the other hand,

was in their living room. And finally my mother had enough of him duck taping the arms and demanded he get a new chair.  After much dragging of the feet and sheer procrastination, my father finally complied.   The new one came this week.

When I learned of the new addition to the house, I was astonished but also clever.  “Hey, what are you going to do with the old one?  I’ll take it!”
Again, because Richard is one who hates to deal with stuff, he immediately said, “GREAT!  It’s yours.  But you have to haul it out and it can…”
“I know.  NEVER come back.  Got it.”

I love this chair.  Not only is it still in pretty good shape (hey it’s a spring chicken at 20 years old compared to the 43 year old fossil in my dad’s study) and is soooo comfortable, it reminds me of my Pop. 

When Ben found out we were getting Grandpa’s chair, even he said, “Oh, that’s going to be my special chair because I love Grandpa so much.” 
To which his very mature mother replied, “Hey, I knew him long before you, Buddy Boy!  I get first dibs.” 

On Saturday, with the help of my new cute friend (which is a post for another time), it is now happily in my home. 

And wouldn’t you know it, the old guy even threw in the navy Duck tape.