Hyde Park = the sun

My neighborhood in Chicago, Hyde Park, never feels like the center of the universe. Yesterday it did. From the moment I went out to vote with my wife and our two kids at 7 a.m., until the end of the day, Hyde Park felt electric. Like our candidate was being elected President. There were news crews here, to film Obama voting. And everyone – except maybe those free-marketeer cavemen from the Econ department – seemed so happy. Jubilant. Full of eager anticipation. We waited an hour to vote because our precinct was overwhelmed by all of the University of Chicago students who had registered to vote and were. But the atmosphere was great. Our two-year-old, Jonah, loved it. And later, in the evening when he and I were alone – our one-year-old, Ellie, was sleeping and my wife was downtown at the Obama rally – he lined up all his cars in a long, long line and said: “Look daddy. These cars are lined up to vote for Barack Obama.” He wanted to wear my Obama button, but I didn’t want him to because of the sharp pin. So I put an Obama sticker on his jammies. It made him happy. Helped him feel part of everything. He fell asleep on the couch, watching election results with me and a friend, wearing his Obama sticker.