Day 365- The last letter

Dear Mr. President,

After 365 letters I suppose I should be running out of things to say. Is a year enough distance to gain any perspective on all that has changed and all that still waits to? Tonight I hoped to make sense of it all; the personal and the political, the minutiae, the mundane, the profound, all of the things I've written about this year. As I look back through this year of letters, of one-sided conversations about issues and actions that defined 2010, I don't have any clue what it all means. I am still tired, still frustrated, still impatient with the progress we've made and the way you govern. But I'm still more like the girl I was in November 2008- stone sober and still too drunk off of election night euphoria- than I ever thought I could be. For all of the disappointments and frustration I have been so proud this year to call you my President. I don't imagine your job is easy, nor do I think I could do it better myself. I am often wrong. I am often too emotional. I use far too many commas.

For all of my shortcomings, I am still a voter and still a citizen and still, I believe, entitled to tell you what I think. Personally, I feel that the great tragedy of the disconnect between the people and our government in this country is not the disparity of money or even power but the way we converse. You do not speak or listen to people like me. When you do talk to me it is in form letters and speeches and talking points- language so polished as to be devoid of any real meaning. We do not have frank conversations. We do not hear one another. I listen to your Sunday addresses, your press conferences and your speeches and all I can say I know for sure is what you want me to think or feel, not what you actually think or feel. Perhaps the most important domestic issue is what you called the deficit of trust. This year has shown me, more clearly than I ever might have seen otherwise, how little trust our government has in the people or we have in it and how damaging this deficit is to all involved.

Deep down I still think that you are well-intentioned. If your caution and moderation do not always sit well with my hot head or bleeding heart, I can accept that you at least believe you are doing the right thing. That is what prompted me to vote for you, to phone bank for you, to write you 365 letters and to hope that I might cast my ballot in 2012 for you, again. Beyond your good intentions, I believe that you are capable of great things, that, should you overcome your fear and find the courage to make really the necessary, difficult decisions that will save this country from some of our worst tendencies, you will be re-elected and likely remembered well. I would not say that I'm a person with any tremendous amount of faith in anything, but I do have faith in you. 2010 didn't change that, and I hope to say the same about 2011.

Happy New Year, Mr. President. Good Luck.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey


To all of my awesome readers:

Thank you so much for all of your support this year. I will have a much more articulate and coherent reflective piece in the coming days, as well as some suggestions for reading, a bonus letter to President Obama from a guest blogger and information about the Espresso book I'll be making. I hope you all have a fun and safe New Year's Eve! See you in 2011!

Day 356- The narrative of the moment

Dear Mr. President,

Yay! You're officially a comeback kid! Did you wake up this week feeling suddenly more powerful than ever before? I ask because the media is abuzz with the story of your late legislative victories, and I can't get rid of this wry smile at the sudden change in narrative. Last week you were ineffective, stymied, your Presidency basically over. Now you're leading congress to more legislative accomplishments, repealing DADT, getting health care benefits for 9/11 first responders, saving the world from the threat of nuclear war with START. You're such a badass. How did things change so quickly?

Thing have not, of course, changed, but the way they are discussed on TV had to change. I'm not sure if this is a reflection of the American public's attention span or just the way the media feels about it, but it can't be a coincidence that every one changed their stories at once. It rings falsely to my ears, anyway. One of my favorite local writers, Paul Constant, agrees, asking that the media "let Bill Clinton's tired "comeback kid" trope molder in the 90s, where it belongs. Things are more complicated now. Don't we deserve a more nuanced media, too?"

Mr. Constant is right when he says "anyone with an ounce of common sense knows that you don't measure a presidency in inches, but these little victories and defeats are what keeps all these unworthy jackasses employed." . His media criticism reminds me of Jon Stewart, who has perfected the art of splicing news clips to show the absurd way one story can be discussed in identical terms. I don't think that you're a different President, that you're working any harder or that you've made any dramatic changes to your approach in the last week. I won't be even a little surprised when, a few weeks or months from now, the narrative changes again and every op-ed writer and pundit is lamenting your stalled/failed/vague/poorly articulated/tone-deaf agenda. As some one with a really unhealthy obsession with political news, I probably find this more annoying than a person who doesn't live and die with these narratives, but I think this practice contributes to our national discourse in an overwhelmingly negative way, encouraging reactionary, short-sighted emotional responses to decisions and events that require more context and perspective.

Just so you know, Mr. President, I'm not buying in to the idea of you being suddenly effective as a leader. For all of my angry, disappointed or nagging letters I've sent this year, I've never stopped appreciating your deliberate, measured approach to things (even when it frustrates the hell out of my hot-headed impulsive side.) I think you're great, but I thought you were great last week, too. I'm proud of what you've achieved and I recognize the magnitude of the work still to be done. This is no time for a victory lap or for complacency. So I hope that you soak up the good press while you've got it, because you know it won't last long.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 343- Tax cuts, bandwagons and war drums

Dear Mr. President,

OK, I get it already. Lots of prominent leaders across the political spectrum have come out in support of your tax cut compromise with the Republicans. I mean lots. And releasing their endorsements one at a time in separate press releases was pretty funny. Gail Collins pointed out that liberal Democrats have been asking you to get mad for a while, and now we're complaining that you finally got mad- at us. And you have every right to be mad, I suppose, as none of us were mad enough to show up on election day and give you a congress that might have your back (though, to be entirely fair, you might have found better ways to spend the primary season than propping up every tired blue-dog with a pulse.) For all of my suggestions that you either refuse tax cuts for the rich or refuse tax cuts for all of us, I wasn't the one responsible for negotiating the compromise (and I won't be the one responsible for negotiating the next 2 years worth of legislation through congress.) You made a call and now you're standing by it.

Collins, in her opinion piece, laments those on the left still landing hard from their fall off of the Obama bandwagon, while smugly declaring her own fall is off of the "line in the sand bandwagon". I suppose I might also be accused of letting my loyalty to you as a person & my membership in the cult of personality surrounding you conflict with my true bleeding-heart liberalism. As many who supported you in 2008 walk away, disappointed, decrying the whole bandwagon mentality, I wish I could join them. Maybe it's a mark of an inferior mind to need a higher authority to place my faith in, but I haven't still haven't heard a better alternative. Should the anti-bandwagon crowd offer me another leader, or convince me that we don't need one, maybe that will change. For now, while I often think that you're wrong, but I'd never trust myself to do your job better.

In all of the outrage about tax rates and the inexplicable failing of the cloture motion to repeal DADT, I was getting more fed up with congress than with you. To add to all of this, the House has passed legislation preventing any Guantanamo Bay detainees from being brought to domestic prisons. Today has not done much for my rapidly dwindling faith in the American people and those we elect to represent us.

My own time has been selfishly consumed with a struggle to finish my final papers for class, study for my exams, and maintain something that resembles sanity closely enough to keep my boss from worrying about me. I can't fix the economy, I can't get basic equality for gay and lesbian Americans and I can't close down Guantanamo bay. I jumped on your bandwagon in the first place because you said that you could. And while my frustration might be more deserved by several members of congress and those who didn't find the time to vote in the midterm elections, unfortunately you're the one I picked for a pen pal. We can't possibly be losing the fight on this many fronts at once.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

PS

The only thing that's bolstered my spirits today is the news that Suheir Hammad, one of my favorite poets, will be speaking at a TED conference soon. They published the text of her poem "What I will" and I thought I'd send it along to you.


What I Will
by Suheir Hammad

I will not
dance to your war
drum. I will
not lend my soul nor
my bones to your war
drum. I will
not dance to your
beating. I know that beat.
It is lifeless. I know
intimately that skin
you are hitting. It
was alive once
hunted stolen
stretched. I will
not dance to your drummed
up war. I will not pop
spin beak for you. I
will not hate for you or
even hate you. I will
not kill for you. Especially
I will not die
for you. I will not mourn
the dead with murder nor
suicide. I will not side
with you nor dance to bombs
because everyone else is
dancing. Everyone can be
wrong. Life is a right not
collateral or casual. I
will not forget where
I come from. I
will craft my own drum. Gather my beloved
near and our chanting
will be dancing. Our
humming will be drumming. I
will not be played. I
will not lend my name
nor my rhythm to your
beat. I will dance
and resist and dance and
persist and dance. This heartbeat is louder than
death. Your war drum ain’t
louder than this breath.

Day 316-Really bad advice

Dear Mr. President,

Today I saw an op-ed in the Washington Post by two men who claim to be Democrats who don't think you should run for re-election in 2012. (I say "claim to be" because there is some question about their actual party affiliation.) I should probably remind every one that I'm not a professional political operative. I don't exactly have the resumé to argue with these hacks. But I think this is just about the worst advice I've heard any one offer you in a while.

I don't think that removing yourself now from the 2012 campaign would, as these pundits suggest, force the republicans in congress to make concessions. I think that backing down now would be the ultimate sign of defeat. Republicans would sieze the opportunity to legislate like they controlled all three branches of government. And I don't say this as a political expert (which I am not) but as a girl who has only gone on first dates for basically an entire year (which I am.) I go on first dates, and sometimes guys just aren't into me, and sometimes I'm just not into them, and sometimes circumstances just aren't right for the two of us. But this doesn't mean I give up entirely on the prospect of dating or ever finding some one to love me. Some of your decisions haven't been popular, some of what the country thinks it wants (social services funded by magic instead of taxes!) isn't what you're able or willing to give and some of your problems are just circumstance.

Running in 2012 demonstrates that you're not looking to escape because it's hard. It is what separates you from Sarah Palin (besides, of course, your grasp of the English language, basic knowledge of geography, economics and history.) To give up would be to tell voters, for sure, that Democrats aren't cut out for leading the country during challenging times. I have no idea who these strategists are or why they are so deluded as to think that appeasing the unreasonable demands of republican leaders is the best way to secure bipartisan cooperation, but I sincerely hope they are not people who get taken seriously in any official capacity.

Mr. President, I have disagreed with many of your decisions as President. I have my issues with your policy compromises and many of your centrist ideas. But I would rather see you in office in 2012 than any Republican. I want to see you listen ultimately to your own values and instincts and not to opinion polls and political pundits, to govern ambitiously and unapologetically, and with the courage of your convictions. ( I would also like you to be able to govern for a while longer without having to worry about reelection, but that ship sailed.)

You've got my vote in 2012, sir. Of the two of us, you're probably the more likely to make the most of a second date.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 294- Six more years

Dear Mr. President,

My throat hurts and I haven't slept for more than fifteen minutes in a row in almost two days. At 4:30 this morning my friend Casi and I boarded a city bus toward the U-district and gleefully informed the driver we were going to see the President. He laughed and told every passenger that he picked up after us that we'd be the first girls in line.

We were not the first in line. Defying cold and campus security, several dozen others were already waiting when we arrived. We huddled together and tried to sleep on the cold sidewalk but we were shivering too hard. We talked to one another, to the strangers ahead of us and behind us in line, about the rules, about the cold, about nothing coherent at all. We became B-roll. We were joined by other friends, we waited in the only open cafe for warm drinks paid for and abandoned before we could drink them when, unexpectedly, the line began to move forward. We waited longer, bemoaning the lost beverages and looking enviously at the the red-ticketed VIP line and, yes, even the ADA line. It was cold. We were tired. We had driven all night long to get back in time.

FInally the line moved inside. By the thousands we came inside, to the heat, to the light, to the comfortable seats. Volunteers herded us, heedless of our desire to sit together, asking only "can you stand for 4 hours?" We exchanged looks. On a good day? No problem. On no sleep in aching feet and still shivering? We took our seats in the stands, happy to settle in an unobstructed view of the podium. I folded myself in half, curling into a stadium seat to try and sleep a few more minutes. No such luck. The choice between making the whole exhausted row stand up to leave through the non-VIP exit to the bathroom or arguing with the indignant volunteers at the VIP door seemed hard at first, and then, no choice at all. A gospel choir took the task of warming up the cold, exhausted crowd. God Bless America. Beautiful words and voices made up for my usual discomfort with religion. We sang, we started the wave and the enthusiasm rolled around the crowd for more laps than any baseball game.

On stage, a series of successively more powerful leaders took to the podium and said the same things. Excessive references to Husky football victories (stretching back decades to justify the pluralization) made me wonder if Congressman Inslee believes college kids think of the whole world as a football game or if he does. Gradually, our governor and senior senator restored the gravitas we expected, reminding us how far women in our country have come and how well women in our state have done by comparison. The secret service took the stage to check the podium, their earpieces identical to the one I wear for work. We knew what came next.

My voice was already sore, but you took the stage and we didn't stop screaming for seven minutes. I've never been in the same room as the a President, before, and there you were, walking across the stage with Senator Murray's head bobbing just below your shoulder despite the help of 3-inch heels. I have written you every day for 293 days and, though you do not know that one of the fifteen-thousand voices is mine, I believe that when you look my way and wave, you see me. Every one in the auditorium believes that they are seen. You are seeing one shimmering swell of enthusiasm that will bridge any gap. It does not matter that we waited in the cold, or that attendance meant skipping the third day of classes in a row for some of us (classes we can by no means afford to miss; the price of free admission.) We are points of light too small for you to perceive the distances between us, the gaps that define us and make us individual bulbs. We are one bright shine, a stadium full of sound and waiving hands and the consuming emotion of the moment.

They said we can't elect a black man with a funny name. You shouted.

Oh, yes, we can. We shouted back.

And we kept our feet, we kept our voices raised and our hands clapping until my palms were purple and my throat was raw with the damage of sheer sound. Cameras flashed, hands of the lucky red-ticketed VIP were shaken, and, delirious with joy, I wanted to hug Reggie as he collected letters and gifts of goodwill. Elated, we tumble outside, a crowd no longer, and walk home, walking that path from the University to Capitol Hill, the same streets we flooded on election night two years ago, the same joy, the same calls from neighbors and perfect strangers asking for our account of your words.

A shift at work later, still sleepless, I am sobered by exhaustion and the return to my routine. Check in on my secret-service earpiece with the rest of the team. Blend in. Be quiet. Look for thieves. One foot in front of the other; tech center, fiction, main floor, basement. Repeat another staircase with the help of another Americano. It hurts to speak. It hurts to breathe. I have barely slept, I have homework due in less than 12 hours, and I can't afford to miss another class all quarter long. Casi has another 100-mile drive home.

And all we can keep saying to each other, to any one who asks, to ourselves is the same thing; it was worth it. I'd do it again. Let's do it tomorrow. Tangle traffic on Montlake and bring the commute to a halt. Re-assemble the metal detectors and get the secret service dogs back on their leads. I would do it all over again, to hear you speak. Even just to hear, again, the same old car metaphor, with the ditch and the mud and the keys. When you want to go forward, you put it in D.

I might be crazy and half-dead with joy and exhaustion, but you will have my ballot and you will have my vote and if I can help it, you and Senator Murray will have six more years and Seattle will have more happy floods in the streets.

Six more years sounds great to me.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 293- Hypothetical questions

Dear Mr. President,

You're speaking at my school tomorrow. I don't think you'll be taking any questions from the audience, and, if you are, it is unlikely that I'll be lucky enough to ask one. Still, I thought it might be useful to pose a few, even if they are about as practical as shouting into the darkness and waiting for a response more coherent than another spinning echo.

Mr. President, you say that the Republican partisan minority is holding up the legislative process through the filibuster, when not a single filibuster has been staged during the legislative session. Why have you not directed Democratic leadership to force the Republicans to follow through on their threats and given the American people a clear demonstration of who is responsible for the hold ups?

Mr. President, your political opponents seem determined to paint you as anti-Israeli no matter what you do. If nothing will please them, why not take an actual stand against the brutality and injustice perpetrated by the Netanyahu government? You could increase our credibility as an honest broker in the peace talks and make a stand against human right violations, a seeming win-win, considering the political capital is going to be spent either way. So why not change the tactic that hasn't worked for any past American President trying to help create peace?

Mr. President, you've made the convincing argument that allowing Republican's control of the legislative branch will return our country to the disastrous policies of the bush era. While this "lesser of two evils" tactic might convince a few independents, why have you risked alienating the liberal base of the democratic party by dismissing our legitimate complaints about policy compromises that represent real hardship for real people as "griping and groaning"?

Mr. President, when Republicans lost control of congress and the White House in 2006 and 2008, the party soul-searching that followed led to a dramatic return to the angriest voices of their far-right base, the Tea Party. If liberal Democrats want our elected officials to stand up for our beliefs and interests, will it take the same kind of losses in November and in 2012?

Mr. President, the wars in Iraq, (in all but name,) and Afghanistan continue. Guantanamo bay remains open. How can America lead the world toward peace and a greater respect for human rights while we continue these immoral (and, I would argue, strategically failed) efforts?

Mr. President, at a town hall meeting not long ago, you were told by a woman that she was tired of trying to defend you to those who had lost their faith in you. I, too, am tired of being disappointed and tired of being ignored. I believe that your job is more difficult than any one in this room can possibly fathom, and I am certain you are even more tired and even less prone to complain about it. I will continue defending you, sir, I have not lost my faith. Thank you for all that you've done for our country, and please, don't confuse my constant (and continuing) criticism of your policy for cynicism, apathy, or betrayal. I still have hope that you can do better, that you have the right idea, and that you need a supportive, open-minded and informed electorate. So I guess I don't have a questions as much as I want to say that as disappointed as I am in you, I'm way more disappointed in the rest of us.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 289- A bit late

Dear Mr. President,

It's much later than I usually post my letter to you. Since it won't, at all, affect the time you receive the letter, I'm sure this will go unnoticed. I like to think my excuse- I was playing my oft-repeated role as Designated Driver for a few friends who'd had way too much to drink- is worthy enough that those who do read this online won't judge me for missing midnight by several hours. I spent the evening around people I care about, people I respect, people who have achieved the kind of goals in life I'm supposed to be setting for myself- graduate degrees, successful careers, marriage, family- and found very little to make me want any of it. Through it all I felt incredibly out of place, unable to relate to the things that make them happy or even the things they find important. By the end of the night, as I was attempting to herd drunk friend into safe modes of transportation and get them home, I'd been thinking a lot about the midterms.

I started the night out with a clear agenda, an ambitious idea of how the night would go and what was important to me. l was quickly forced to compromise. The conflicting agendas of others, the logistical complications, the whole evening began to feel a lot like I've always imagined negotiating a piece of legislation through congress would feel. By the time I was struggling with drunk friends to keep them safe and get them home, I felt like I was fighting the forces of gravity just to hold my sanity together. Forget about my agenda; it had been lost for hours. Not to belittle the complexity of your current political situation, by comparing to to a bunch of drunk kids at a bar, or anything. You're a big fan of the responsible-driver vs. the republicans metaphor, and tonight i regretted ever cynically complaining about how overused that particular fable has become in your stump speech. The whole country handed you the keys and said they were just going to have a couple beers. You look around now and every one is screaming about marxism and your birth certificate and Obamacare and you have to wonder why you agreed to stay sober in the first place. No one will listen to you, or take your advice, or let you just fix things the way you want to. Even when inebriated, we Americans tend to be pretty protective of the idea of our own superior judgement as individuals.

I don't imagine that I've done anything more tonight than found a small my-life-sized analogy to the massive problems and struggles you face. But I think you're making the right call. Because, for a moment, I leaned back against my friend's car to appreciate the stars, and thought about the absurdity of it all. I almost laughed, because the night had already gotten so far away from funny that there was nothing else to do. I don't know if it helped me at all, but I can say that at least no one got hurt, and at least every one got to a safe place to sleep. You may have had the most tedious night of your life and be surrounded on all sides by fellow Democrats stumbling and senseless with the fear of the whims of a capricious public, but you're still criss-crossing the campaign trail, making your case, recognizing that even if you can't keep your agenda you can at least get every one home in one piece.

It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it. Tonight, I am immensely grateful that it's you and not me.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 273- Keeping Fear Alive

Dear Mr. President,

You seemed to endorse the Rally To Restore Sanity in an interview the other day. I think that's probably a wise decision on your part, since the rational, calm and willing to disagree without outrage are probably your most loyal constituents. While conventional wisdom continues to spell certain doom for Democrats this fall, I think that the quieter voices of those who would rather not shout or hang tea-bags from their hats or paint hitler mustaches on their opponents are yet to be heard. I understand, however, that it is actually in your interest to keep the fear alive, so to speak. Lowering expectations frightens supporters to the polls on election day, scares money out of donors and time from volunteers. Doing and changing and acting and governing with conviction might also accomplish the desired result, but that is, to be fair, a much more challenging thing to do.

I heard Robert Gibbs insisting that the things you have accomplished are more surprising than the things you haven't accomplished. I understand that Mr. Gibbs is paid to try to make reality sound more favorable, but I think your administration's strategy of insisting you've kept your promises is not going to work. For one thing, the level of discontentment among voters would not exist if their daily lives had measurably improved over the last two years. I think that they will improve, and that your policies have often looked to favor the long-term benefits over instant gratification, but I don't think that is a message you or Mr. Gibbs will be able to sell to an increasingly desperate middle class.

Honestly, Mr. President, when you spoke, I used to listen. What you were saying and the way you were saying it, used to inspire me as few people ever had. When I heard you speak, I heard a leader. These days, you sound like a politician. And it isn't style that bothers me; I don't think that your political problems can be solved by changing the tone of your voice. It's substance. You can't rely on the same soaring rhetoric when trying to justify the underwhelming and often mundane changes you're making. And while I'm not suggesting that every speech you give ought to lend itself to a youtube music video I think the reason people are so disappointed is that there isn't much glory in bickering with right-wing democrats to wrangle watered-down legislation through inane congressional procedures.

I think you can be a better President than you have demonstrated, and I think Democrats can lead the country better than they have so far. I hope you find your voice again soon. What brought liberal voters out in record numbers in 2008 wasn't fear of losing to John McCain. It was the faith you gave us that we didn't have to be afraid all of the time, that our collective efforts and our collective courage could change our country. That we could make it safer, as we made it freer. That we could make it fairer as we made it more reflective of our values. That we could would wake up one day and believe, again, in the promise it held for all of us, no matter who we are. And those aren't promises you can make to the voters, this time around. You can say we're not finished yet, you can scare us with what Republican control will do to the little progress we have made, but you can't rely on fear alone. Stop lowering expectations and putting off controversial votes and trying to win the middle by turning on the left. Start showing people that you're not afraid of an ugly fight in the fall, that Democrats will stand up for our values and talk to us like we're adults. Empower your supporters instead of just scaring them. And watch that Yes We Can music video, one more time. I feel like I'm staring at a fresh glass of Hope Koolaid, just waiting for you to give me a reason to start drinking it again.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 266- 100 days

Update: It turns out due to an error earlier in the year this should actually be called "99 days" oh well. Live and learn, eh?

Dear Mr. President,

The measure of a presidency is often taken by the accomplishments of the first 100 days. I think this is silly. You've got to allow at least a few days to find all the light switches and figure out how to navigate the west wing, right? Not to mention all the the thanking people for their help getting you elected, the waiting for congress to remember that no one in the country knows who they are after election season ends, and, of course, the post-victory poll numbers can't be taken that seriously. But I have 100 days left to write to you this year, and I want to make my last 100 letters count. In 100 days, I want to think that my country will be different. I want to think it will be stronger, economically, and that the Bush-era tax cus will be allowed to expire. I want to think that it will be a freer, and more fair country, where gay and lesbian Americans will be allowed to openly serve in our military and marry whomever they please. I want to think that our image abroad will be improved by the closure of Guantanamo bay, the end of combat in Afghanistan, and that truly fair-minded American leadership in the Palestinian/Israeli peace talks will help create a stable, free and secure Palestinian state. We might also be a greener nation, with an end to harmful agricultural subsidies, a robust new energy policy and heavier federal investment in making our national infrastructure more environmentally friendly. Every single one of these things is possible in 100 days. (I may also wish for socialized health care and higher education, but I recognize those things can't happen in 100 days.) All of this can happen. And while my cynical, realistic side believes that none of these things will be accomplished in so little time, the part of me that still hopes for a better future believes that your next 100 days can be just as important and productive as your first 100 days, or the 100 days that will come after December 31st. And, while I have 100 letters left to write, you can bet that I'm going to bug your more than ever about every single one of these goals.

2010 has been kind of a rough year for you and your presidency. But it's got 100 days left, and that's plenty of time to turn things around and change the way this year and your administration is remembered by history. I hope you make them count.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 241- A reflective mood on a cloudy day

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Dear Mr. President,

The interview you did with Brian Williams was encouraging. Your calm indifference to the rumors about your birth and religion is pretty much the only respectful way to answer such nonsense. When Mr. Williams asked you what you saw when you looked ahead, you responded "as I look forward, my central focus is going to be be to make sure that I'm constantly communicating with all segments of this country about why I feel optimistic about our future." I think this is an excellent goal and I believe that more effective communication is essential to the success of your administration. Especially given the grim economic circumstances, conveying an optimistic idea of the future will be a full-time challenge.

This hope you have for us was what drove your campaign to be successful. When the markets were crashing and things were getting worse by the day, your campaign continued to calmly promise better days. Even if it is hard for me to feel that hopeful today, I am emboldened to hear you speak of it still. I, like so many Americans, have fallen time and again to the cynicism and the pessimism that do little good. I have despaired that the progress we've made is not enough. That it was too slow, that you and your administration are no different and no better than your predecessors; that your desire to win elections had beaten your desire to do the right thing. I have thought these things, and worse. I have lost my hope that I could do anything to stop what was going wrong. I have been chided by my friends from the left and the right for my naive faith, and I let it get to me.

But I don't think that does any good. I don't think that hope or optimism does any one any harm. I haven't seen enough (or, perhaps, have seen too much) to know for sure that it does any good, but I know for certain it can't hurt. You have had it so much harder than me. You have seen friends turn on you, you have born the weight of every American life and home and job lost these last two years. You haven't lost your faith in us, or in this country. That makes me ashamed for my own capricious optimism. It comes down to this: I want to know that you're working for a better, more peaceful world. In your efforts to constantly communicate to this particular segment of the country (me), I hope that you do a better job explaining to me how you're doing that. Do this, and I promise to try harder to share your optimism for the future.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

PS

If any of you reading watched the full interview above, you probably saw the President and Brian Williams express their disbelief that what happened after Katrina could happen in America. I was struck by this, the implication that elsewhere that kind of devastation was to be expected. It is happening right now, and even worse, in Pakistan. I know that money is tight, but if you have anything to give, please donate to Pakistani flood relief. This shouldn't be acceptable anywhere.

Day 226- Perseids

Update: President Obama seems to have walked back his courageous words from last night to the tepid centrism he's clearly more comfortable with. *SIGH*

Dear Mr. President,

Thursday night, two friends and I stayed out late to watch the Perseid meteor shower. Though we were not far from the city, a local park provided enough darkness to witness the truly impressive show the stars were putting on that night. It was an unusually chilly August night, and we huddled in blankets and sleeping bags to keep out the cold. At times it looked like the sky was being torn, the meteors were so bright. I've been an amateur astronomy geek my whole life, but I've never seen anything half as amazing as the Perseids.

While lying there, we were discussing your impending visit to Seattle. We'd like to come see you, but we're not exactly in a financial position to afford a plate at Patty Murray's fundraiser. (That being said, I hope your presence draws a considerable crowd. If Murray loses to either of her Republican challengers it will be a sad day indeed for Washington voters and the Senate.) We thought about trying to find a place in the crowd outside to catch even a glimpse of the President we admire and helped elect. Perhaps the light show in the sky contributed to my very small, powerless feeling at that moment. I joked that I should bring one of the form letters the White House has sent me, to see if I could get you to sign it for real. Inside, I wasn't quite so amused at my own insignificance.

It isn't that I think I'm important enough to deserve your attention, Mr. President. It's the helplessness of knowing that so few people like me will ever have any hope of catching your ear, let alone being heard. When I say people like me, I mean the non-wealthy, non-swing-state-voter, non-elderly. That class that isn't middle class enough to make a good all-American photo op. Just a little too far left to be taken seriously. You might tape a message to Netroots Nation, but talking at us and listening to us are worlds apart. There's no power to be gained in taking my generation seriously, I suppose, but we are the next leaders of this country and a significant factor in your re-election.

Shortly after Robert Gibbs' remarks about the professional left, I got an e-mail, (ostensibly from you, but clearly written by an intern,) asking me to commit to vote in 2010. To sign my name to promise that I'll be there. This transparent scramble for reassuring data was probably the most offensive OFA e-mail I've ever received. You want me to commit to supporting your candidates? After your press secretary trashed the ideological left? While your administration acts like we're nothing more than a shrill pest? I'm sorry, Mr. President, but you're going to have to do a lot better than a form e-mail to re-engage your base. I'm not asking for an autograph, a seat at the table, or even a new press secretary; I'm asking for an administration that actually empowers the people it asks to show up on election day. A White House that feels less like watching a barely-comprehensible cosmic event and more like a group of people who have the interests of voters (and not just donors) at heart.

Anyway, Mr. President, maybe it's just been a rough week. I wish there was some way I could show you how much I want to believe in you, and in this country again. I wish there was some way of reaching you at all. Even if it's just as useless as shouting at the sky, I'm going to keep writing, keep blogging, keep pestering you about the things you promised us. If you never respond to a single letter, if you never know I exist at all, that's fine. I just hope you find a way to hear the parts of this country you're ignoring, before you realize they won't be coming out to vote in November.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 205- Face the (Netroots) Nation

“What I’m asking you is to keep making your voices heard, to keep holding me accountable. To keep up the fight.”


Dear Mr. President,

I don't think I count as an official member of the Netroots Nation, and I wasn't in Vegas for the convention, but, since I'm a blogger and I write you every day, I'm going to go ahead and tell myself that I'm part of your intended audience, anyway. I liked your video address, the promises you've renewed to repeal DADT and to close Guantanamo Bay. I hope that, this year, these are promise you can keep. I think the only aspect of this video that strikes me as disingenuous is the get-out-the-midterm-vote request, especially given the way so many centrist Democratic incumbents were given the support of the White House over their more progressive challengers during the primaries. Does it strike you as just a bit distasteful to ignore all of the progressive voices demanding better representation in congress and then ask those same progressives to show up on election day cheering for the lesser of two evils?

This being said, I think the New York Times' analysis of the speech as a "Pep Rally for an Uneasy Democratic Team" perhaps reads a bit too much into the fact that you used clips from Rachel Maddow's show to tout the administration's accomplishments. I think you know that the Netroots movement still has a tremendous number of loyal Obama supporters, even, (and maybe especially) those most vocal about our disappointment with the amount of compromise we've been asked to accept. However, as you so eloquently remind us in your speech, change comes from the bottom up. We've organized, raised money, marched, written and voted. We're asking for change. We're creating change. I think your administration could do a better job empowering and engaging the blogging community. The White House blog is great, but it could be developed into a more relevant forum for honest dialogue with the public. A press room without the press, or the spin, where questions are answered and discussion fostered. A blog that not only allows actual comments, but involves members of the communication department in responding to the discussions.

As inspiring as your address was, I hope the convention you were addressing, and the larger progressive blogging community, has not failed to inspire you, as well. The dogged pursuit of a wiser and more just government, a freer society, and a healthier planet is largely responsible for your election, and the Netroots Nation is only beginning to realize its potential. Now is the time to find the courage to keep your promises to us, Mr. President, not only because it is politically expedient, but because you know it is the right thing for this country and for future generations of Americans.

I guess what I mean is, please don't forget that we're asking you to keep up the fight, as well.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Hey all- speaking of the Midterms, here are some must-see midterm political ads. In case they've escaped your notice:










And, if you're in the giving mood, ActBlue

Day 202- One new national foundation- only $5!

Dear Mr. President,

I got an email from OFA today, or, if I'm to take it seriously, from you. It's actually more personalized than most of the form letters I've gotten in the mail. This was my favorite part:

You and I did not build this movement to win one election. We did not come together to pass one single piece of legislation. We are fighting for nothing less than a new foundation for our country -- and that work is not complete. As we face the challenges ahead, I am relying on you to stand with me.

Please donate $5 or more today:

I know there isn't really a way to send a mass e-mail asking for money and not come across as, well, kind of tacky. I get these OFA emails every few days and, I have to admit, that attempt to make me feel important and part of the club, it comes across as completely phony. I don't like being patronized. I don't need to have my sense of importance inflated. I don't think these methods actually get you more money.

I donated anyway. I think that OFA is doing good work, and that, even if my donation counts only as $10 against the Tea Party and the Republicans who serve them, it's worth it. I don't think imagine it will buy me influence, or even a marginal improvement in the policies or practices of your administration. But I believe it's a start. I think the 2008 election was a victory for many of the poor, disenfranchised and forgotten; a demonstration of the power that those of us non-millionaires still have over our national destiny. My $10 might not buy this country a new foundation, it might not get me a signed photo or a handshake or even a less annoying OFA email, but it's probably better spent promoting liberal(ish) candidates than buying me a week's worth of Americanos.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey


Readers: If my cynicism isn't too catching, you, too, can buy a new foundation for our country by donating to Organizing For America.

Day 155-Hope & Change

Dear Mr. President,

Tonight a close friend, while we shared horror stories from our respective jobs, mused that, no matter how bad things got, he often cheered himself up by thinking, at least he doesn't have to deal with the President's job, or all of your problems. As some one who is frequently told by the very customers making it necessary for me to be at work at 4am how much they pity me for having to be up so early, I know this doesn't help to relieve the tremendous burden of your job. But I do hope you know we appreciate the magnitude of your struggle. On days like today, when I am so despairing of the ignorance and shallowness and petty crimes of so many, I like to remind myself of the people in this world who give me hope.

Emily Henochowicz lost an eye to the IDF this week, for daring to speak out against their attack on the humanitarian ship. She's 21. My best friend leaves in 3 weeks, giving up two years of comfort and delaying academic and professional success to work with community health clinics in rural West Africa. She's 24. My youngest sister supports her family working retail and living paycheck to paycheck, trying to ensure that her son has all he needs to grow up healthy and supported. She's 22. I am surrounded, daily, by examples from my life and from the lives of those I may never meet, of the hope you asked of us in your campaign. What could be more hopeful than giving up your time, energy, even your physical safety for the sake of the next generation and the world we will leave them? You asked us to hope, Mr. President, and I think that, despite all that would inspire only cynicism and despair, we are hopeful, yet.

In exchange for this, we asked you to change things. We asked that our hope be not in vain, that our country be remade in an image more of us could find reflective of our own features, our true nature. Your efforts have been honest, if the results have not always been as profound or as swift as many had expected. Right now it seems like, more than just oil, it is all of our political ambitions, our dearest hopes and grandest plans gushing out to be lost at sea. How will we fix this? Even after it is fixed, will the fallout consume your presidency? I am sure that no one feels this fear more acutely than you, sir.

I suppose the point of this letter is to remind you that, more than our relief at being able to entrust you with the most difficult job in the country, we share your struggles, too. That my generation will have ownership of whatever world you leave us is not lost on me. I am afraid, I am worried, I am angry; but I have not lost hope.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 125- Why I'm still drinking the koolaid

Dear Mr. President,

Cults make me uncomfortable. I choke on the corporatespeak they feed us at work. I can't stomach the suspension of disbelief required for organized religion. I'm a skeptical person by nature and I can't shut off the part of me that constantly questions what I am told. I do not often fit in with ideologies, isms or cults of personality. And yet, I drink the Hope Koolaid better than almost any one I know.

It's not that I think you're always right; it's not that I think you always make the best choices or even act with the best of intentions. You're really my last hope, these days. I can't give up, believe the system to be hopelessly corrupt and refuse to participate; that would hand my power as a citizen over to some one else. I can't, honestly, envision a viable third party candidate, especially one who is more representative of my beliefs than you are. I have to believe in your wisdom and in your goodness, because if you're not the person best able to steer our nation right now, I'm at a loss for who the alternative would be.

This is not to say that my support for you is out of a lack of other options. Maybe it's just as irrational and just as naive as any other kind of faith, but it is more than blind loyalty. I do have issues with your policies and some of your beliefs, but I think, even among the Democrats, you're the person I respect the most because of the way you approach problems. I have a tremendous amount of faith in the people of this country; in my generation and the force of demographics to, slowly, move us closer to a fairer, freer and more just nation; I also know I can't change anything acting by myself. I believe that the change you promised us will come, probably long after you've left office, but we have to keep working toward it, more slowly than any one will find acceptable.

I am subject to the system, as are you. The difference, I think, is that I have the capacity to shift it very little, while you seem to have accepted too much of the status quo as inevitable, without consideration of your own, considerably greater, power to change it. You don't have to accept things as they've always been; be it the wars you inherited, the legacy of American imperialism, our backwards and bigoted social policies or the same old blue dog incumbents in the Democratic party. Your campaign empowered so many of the disenfranchised of this nation; it isn't hubris to reject the trappings of the system that disenfranchised them in the first place. The 17 months of your presidency have seen no shortage of missed opportunities to bring about the kind of change you asked us all to hope for; but I'm raising a glass, and keeping the faith, for the two and half years you've got left.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey