The Journey: Finally, after 238 years

An view of President-Elect Obama's historic election to office

Hi. My name is Julian Marrero and I am blessed to be an American. On November 4th, 2008, the first black President of the United States was elected to office by large majority of Americans. My fellow Americans made me even prouder to be an American than I already was. I am a veteran of the Unted States Navy. I placed myself in service to this country to help to protect the brave Americans I count myself among, and to protect the freedoms that I and my fellow Americans cherish everyday of our lives. And now, those very freedoms have been proven to be applicable to all Americans once again.

238 years ago, a black man was the first to die in our War of Independance. His name was Crispus Attucks. He was one of many free blacks who chose to fight for this burgeoning nation's right to be free from tyranny of his own volition. Unfortunately, and to the great shame of a nation, it took another 94 years before President Abraham Lincoln saw fit to free all blacks under the auspices of the Emancipation Proclamation. There are those who cynically say that the reason Lincoln did this, was to damage the economy of the south, which relied heavily on slave labor. Regardless, he acted to free all blacks in this country suffering under the chains of enslavement. Still, it took until President Lyndon Baines Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act for blacks to have a law that conferred upon them equal rights under the law with every other American citizen.
 

I was born on May 7th, 1958. It was a time of innocence and peace that was to last until November 22nd, 1963. By this day I was five years old. I was already attending kindergarten. I was already aware, at that age, that the President of the United States was one John F. Kennedy. From what I could see, and from what I remember now of that day, President Kennedy was viewed as a bringer of hope and everything seemed right in the world. At that moment, my world consisted of my favorite cartoon show, Mighty Mouse. I was watching my favorite show when it was interrupted by a news bulletin. John F. Kennedy, the bringer of hope to a nation soon to enter a "Cold War", who had faced down the Soviet Empire during the Cuban Missile Crisis, had been murdered in Dallas, Texas. All of the adults around me, and even those I could see through my window in the streets, were crying for the death of our President. Even at that early age, I felt that the hope that he brought to our nation lay mortally wounded in the hospital where doctors labored to save the life of our President. He died that day, taking a piece of the nation's heart with him, and a large measure of our hope, when he died.

Two years later, the emotional wound I sufferred that day stil lay within me, albeit unknowingly. I knew of Malcolm X, but I did not know what he was all about. I had heard, on the TV news, that he was a militant who hated America and all of the whites in it. But I also heard that, as a person of the Muslim faith, he had made a pilgrimmage to Mecca, which I understood to be a very holy place. As I understood it, when he arrived he saw that Muslims came in all races, sizes and colors. Upon this observation he realized that hating people because of their color was foolish. If there had been a true reason to hate someone because of their color, then God would not have made so many different kinds of people in all shapes, sizes and colors. He had seen the light, racism not demeaned the target of its hatred, but it diminished the hater in the eyes of God. He could now see the wisdom of the way of Martin Luther King and the civil rights movement. Hear was a man who could help bring new hope to this country. Unfortunately, others of his religion did not see his metamorphoses as reason for hope, they saw his change as a betrayal. And so, on February 21st, 1965, in the Audobon Ballroom, the heart of Harlem, Malcolm X was shot to death by members of his own faith. And yet another piece of hope is ripped from the heart of America. I wouldn't know how this assasination, along with the others in the 1960's would stay with me in the form of yet more emotional pain.
 

In the spring of 1968, three years had passed since the last major assasination in this country had happened. For a ten year old in America, all now seemed right with the world. Since the deaths of JFK and Malcolm X, it seemed that the country had found the perpetrators these violent acts and had punished them, as was right. Now the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King was leading black Americans towards true equal rights. His was the way of non-violent protest. He would lead his people to the promised land of equality for all, in the very nation that stood for this and other inherent rights listed in the constitution, without resorting to violence to achieve these ends. He chose to fight inequity, unfairness and the violent bigotry of small minded people who could not see past the color of other people to see God's gold buried there. He brought Love to a nation starved for it. He would heal a wounded nation. Then, on April 4th, 1968, in a hotel in Memphis, Tennesee, the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King was murdered at the hands of a southern bigot who couldn't understand that Love, not violence, was the cure for what ailed the nation. This time, being more aware of who Mr. King was, my heart lay broken. Shattered into a thousand pieces by the death of a man that I was so sure, in my youthful innocence, would heal the wounds and remove the emotional scars of my country. A man who would finally prove to me and the world, that all of my friends, black, white, brown and every other color of the rainbow were all the same. We were all Americans who had the same dreams and ideals. Now that dream would not be.

I felt anger, sorrow and disillusionment. I was becoming disillusioned with my country and its people. How could any American do to another American what was done to JFK, Malcolm X and the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King? How could hope be murdered like this in a nation built on the hopes and dreams of our forefathers?

But, being only ten years old, hope could not really die in me. So I looked to see who could stop the violence? Who could take this nation to the next level. A level where we, as a nation, could put hate and violence behind us. A leader who could take us as a country to the promised land that Dr. King pointed us towards. I saw him in the person of Robert F. Kennedy. The younger brother of John F Kennedy, who shared the same visions and dreams of his now dead brother. The man, who as Attorney General of the United States of America made sure that blacks were allowed to vote and attend the school of their choice by ordering the FBI to enforce the Civil Rights Act in those southern states that had yet to see the light. Surely he was the one to lead us out of the darkness that the the decade of the 60's. RFK was running for the nomination of the Democratic Party as its candidate for President of the United States. This was the first election that I, as a ten year old, was fully aware of. Robert F. Kennedy was leading in the early primaries and seemed a lock to win it all, including the General Election. On june 5th, 1968, Robert F. Kennedy, in the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles, was celebrating his victory in the California primary when he was assasinated by a young Palestinian named Sirhan Sirhan. I was watching the news trying to find out if RFK had won. That's when I found out that RFK had been murdered. The last piece of my heart in which hope resided, died. I was numb. I cried. I screamed! I yelled at a nation that could allow this to happen not once, not twice, but four times!!! I wanted to hate my country, but couldn't. It's my country, after all, wrong or right. But damn it all, the wrong was as wrong as it could be!!
 

Since I couldn't hate my country, and I felt all but overwhelmed by the pain of my emotions, I locked what little hope remained in my heart, safeguarding it there for the time when my nation would wake up and see the light. Over the years I operated more or less on autopilot. In 1976 I joined the US Navy, I would serve my country regardless of the shameful way it treated some of its citizens in the past. Because underneath all of the history, and all of the pain, I was and all will be an American, and I will always fight for my country. Right or wrong. I performed my duty to my country and came home to New York City when my enlistment was done. I came back to a recession and oil shortage that had forced the country to ration its oil. There was record unemployment. I found little jobs here and there to make ends meet and to keep a roof over my head. And then came Black October. Americas stock market had crashed. People were in shock, businessmen panicked with some even taking their lives over it. And through it all, America came through.

It was 90's and technology had become a powerful force in the world. Cellphones and laptop computers were must have items and the future looked bright. Into the new millenium we entered. The view ahead was filled with endless possibilities for one and all. Though, under it all, there were still little signs of the hate and intolerance of the past. A gay boy in America's heartland was crucified for being gay. Crucified!!! Like Christ was! And the people who did it said it was because the bible told them that gay people were evil. They should have told the truth! God did not tell us to kill someone because they were different, he told us to Love one another, regardless of who we are. Regardless of where we come from. Regardless of who we Love. Then a greater expression of hate visited us. The terrorist attacks of 9/11/2001.
 

On that day, nineteen Islamic terrorists hijacked four passenger jets, crashed two of them into the World Trade Center in NYC, crashed one of them into the Pentagon, and one crashed in some fields in Pennsylvania after some brave and heroic Americans broke into the cockpit and fought with the terrorists who had hijacked the plane, thereby stopping them in their plan to crash their plane into the White House. This was murder, plain and simple. The terrorists claimed, and still claim, that it was an act of retribution against the United States for its sins against the world. I watched as two to three thousand people died in the attack that day. That old emotional wound that I was still carrying around locked away came flaring to life again. Was hope going to die again in this country? This time at the hands of outside influences? This crime had been committed by people who hated what America stood for. A new President stepped into the fray. He said all of the right things, and, it seemed, has the fortitude to fight this new "war" to the end. But he just couldn't get it right. He started out fine, going to Afghanistan, home of the people who had planned, trained and supplied the people who committed the attack, and drove them out of Afghanistan. He didn't get the leader of the people who perpetrated the attack, to this day he still is out there. But then he did a curious thing. He declared war against Iraq. Now while the leader of Iraq was certainly a despot worth removing from power, he did not have a hand in the 9/11 attacks. In fact, it seems that the only reason they were invaded was to drive up the cost of oil so that the President's friends in the oil business could benefit from the rising price of oil due to the disruption of the production of oil in Iraq. As if that was not enough turmoil for this nation, the political party in charge stopped regulating of the stock market. Of course this meant that no one was watching the greedy corporate hacks who would steal their own mothers' soul if they could realize a profit from it. Our economy is in the greatest peril it has ever been in before, because of poor leadership.

And this leads to now. Finally, another man of vision and clarity, of intelligence and common sense, has taken over the reins of government. He is a black man. The first black President of the United States in 238 years. He brings new ideas and a fresh approach to his office. He brings the Love in his heart that he has for the greatest nation on the face of this Earth, and most of all, he brings hope renewed. The promise of new and brighter days to come. Change is in the air, can you feel it? And that place in my heart, that wounded vestige of hope for a brighter day for this nation, I can feel it healing. America, I ask you, can you feel the healing? I know the answer already. Yes you can! I know I can.

God bless America, now and forever.
 

Reviews

[the sly hobo]

Hey Julian,he's not black.