The Obama Effect

My cousin, who is 14, jumped at the chance and immediately started getting ready. I was amazed at her enthusiasm; she was excited to see Obama. When I was 14, I could’ve cared less about who was running for president.

I saw yet another indicator of the “Obama Effect” once we got to the campaign headquarters around 8:30 a.m. to wait for tickets. There were already 10 people ahead of us. Behind me, several teenagers were talking about the upcoming Jonas Brothers concert in Virginia Beach. When an older woman commented on seeing them waiting on Obama tickets, the girls’ gushing switched from Nick Jonas to Barack Obama. Again, I had to pick my jaw up from the ground; were these kids even old enough to vote?

As soon as a ticket was placed in my hand, I started sending text messages to everyone I knew. I'd withheld my excitement until I knew for a fact that I was going to see him - the first black Democratic presidential nominee. There were moments when I simply stared at the ticket, astonished at its presence.

I’ll put this into context: I was a journalist in Washington, DC, in the early 2000s. I covered the House and the Senate. I spoke to lawmakers regularly. I met former Florida governor Jeb Bush several times. I went to Bill Clinton’s last official speech as president. I attended George W. Bush’s first inauguration. I witnessed the Amber Act passed into law in the Rose Garden.

Somehow, this topped it all.

I wasn’t sure how or why this was higher on my accomplishment scale at that point, but I was sure I would figure it out eventually.

The day of the town hall meeting, my aunt woke us up early once again.