It was my first election in California, and I have to say it is a different experience watching the results appear in the afternoon instead of the evening. But it was also the day of our weekly community meeting, and we set up a television in our lobby and watched it with the sound turned off as we did the business of The Buffalo Center. My director’s report was simple: “I love you all, I am proud of you all, and I am honored to be your director.” It was a portent of things to come.

Though we all wanted the meeting to be over so that we could watch the returns, somehow we managed to meet for an hour and half. When you get sixty-some intelligent and earnest people in a room and give them the freedom to express themselves, they are going to do just that, whether it is about academic policy, who cleans the kitchen, or the process they are engaging in at the moment. At one point, during a very serious discussion, the CNN hologram appeared, and those who saw it could not help but laugh. CNN’s attempt to be cool provided a much-needed balance to our heavy discussion topic, and eventually we all laughed at the silliness of it all, even those involved in the weighty discussion.

Finally, we were free of ourselves, and we turned the television up and gathered around it like a fire on a cold night. During the meeting several people had mentioned the need to be considerate of others during the evening, that not everyone shared the same political perspectives, and that some people might be disappointed at the end of the evening. But every single person who gathered around the television, including those in the other building who watched The Daily Show instead of CNN, was hoping for real change. So we were all for Obama, but we were not partisan. We wanted hope. After the cynicism masquerading as patriotism, after the fear-mongering masquerading as national security, after raw seizing of power masquerading as democracy, we wanted hope. We got it.

After each state that rolled in as blue, a might cheer went up in the Buffalo Center. States that came in as red were not booed but met with resignation. I did feel compelled to point out that my area director was from blood-red Kansas, and he responded that he had lived in New York for many years. The room was filled with anxiety and anticipation. Would they find a way to steal this one? Were the polls dramatically, tragically wrong? Had we been hoodwinked again by the promises of democracy offered by craven power brokers? 

My friend Fyodor was in No Cal working and did not have access to media, so I kept texting him the results. At 207 for hope and the west coast still not called, I began calculating electoral votes: California, Oregon, Washington, Hawaii. The numbers were there. I looked around the room. Other people knew it too, but we could not say it. Speaking our hopes aloud might be blasphemous; it might be premature at best or arrogant at worst. Could it be? Would our long, national nightmare finally be over? Were we about to “live out the meaning of our creed” as Dr. King said nearly twenty-five years ago?

As 8:00 PDT approached, I wandering over to the other building to watch The Daily Show with those buffaloes. As Colbert raved about the importance of electing our first Hawaiian president, we waited with bated breath for the announcement. Finally, Jon Stewart broke into Colbert’s dissertation to announce that Barack Obama was the 44th president of the United States. We broke into cheers, but it was The Daily Show, so many people cried out that we should turn to CNN to be sure. I thought it was an interesting moment for irony and truth. These post-postmodern students wanted a reliable narrator for once in their lives. I tried to reassure them that it was true, but they would not believe me. 

I walked back to our other building, and in the darkening night, I could see my friends, my students, my fellow buffaloes all standing and cheering. Upon entering the room, I was greeted with hugs that took my breath away. Tears and laughter, shock and disbelief, exhaustion and excitement all filled the room. We sat down and watched Senator McCain give his concession speech, and the buffaloes applauded him several times, and for good reason. But when President-Elect Obama walked onto the stage in that great city of Chicago, we all lost it, and I am losing it now as I write this. To see that family appear in front of the United States as the first family is something I will never forget as long as I live. We all began crying and clapping and screaming our joy to the screen. It was truly a sacred moment.

We cheered and cried our way through the victory speech, and I have to say that I shuddered through it as well. I kept waiting for the shot to ring out and steal our hope away. Grant Park looked so open, so unable to be secured from cowards and liars that fear mingled with my hope and joy. But soon enough I was lost in the words of a great orator and a great statesman, and all I felt was joy and gratitude that America transcended its cynicism and hatred and elected a man of the world who can bring us back to respect in the world. At the end of the speech, the Buffaloes, who are environmentalists, activists, feminists, and party to all causes progressive, broke into “America the Beautiful.” I began weeping uncontrollably and could not sing. Then I looked over to the corner, and I saw my advisee Margaret, weeping into her hands and shaking. As the other buffaloes sang about amber waves of grain, Margaret and I held each other and wept, believing and not believing what had just happened and feeling for the first time (maybe ever for Margaret) that the future was one of hope.

Of the many sacred moments I have been able to experience in my life, this is a highlight on the sacred journey. These moments are rare, as anything sacred is, and it will pass, especially as we get to the tiresome and sometimes dirty business of running a nation. But on a Tuesday night in Southern California, people from across generations, genders, and social status, wept and screamed and cried and sang together in a chorus of hope.