“Oh, sweetie, you’ve got to keep that on. It’s freezing outside.” I grabbed
the hat and fitted it back on her head.
“But we’re not outside, we’re inside,” she said.
This was Sasha, our round-faced little truth teller. I couldn’t argue with her
logic. Instead, I glanced at one of the staffers nearby, trying to telegraph a message
to a young person who almost certainly didn’t have kids of her own: Dear God, if
we don’t get this thing started now, we’re going to lose these two.
In an act of mercy, she nodded and motioned us toward the entrance. It was
time.
I’d been to a fair number of Barack’s political events by now and had seen
him interact many times with big groups of constituents. I’d been at campaign
kickoffs, fund-raisers, and election-night parties. I’d seen audiences filled with old
friends and longtime supporters. But Springfield was something else entirely.
My nerves left me the moment we stepped onstage. I was focused
completely on Sasha, making sure she was smiling and not about to trip over her
own booted feet. “Look up, sweetie,” I said, holding her hand. “Smile!” Malia
was out ahead of us already, her chin high and her smile giant as she caught up
with her father and waved. It wasn’t until we ascended the stairs that I was finally
able to take in the crowd, or at least try to. The rush was enormous. More than
fifteen thousand people, it turned out, had come that day. They were spread out
in a three-hundred-degree panorama, spilling out from the capitol, enveloping us
with their enthusiasm.
I’d never been one who’d choose to spend a Saturday at a political rally. The
appeal of standing in an open gym or high school auditorium to hear lofty
promises and platitudes never made much sense to me. Why, I wondered, were
all these people here? Why would they layer on extra socks and stand for hours in
the cold? I could imagine people bundling up and waiting to hear a band whose
every lyric they could sing or enduring a snowy Super Bowl for a team they’d
followed since childhood. But politics? This was unlike anything I’d experienced
before.
It began dawning on me that we were the band. We were the team about to
take the field. What I felt more than anything was a sudden sense of
responsibility. We owed something to each one of these people. We were asking
for an investment of their faith, and now we had to deliver on what they’d
brought us, carrying that enthusiasm through twenty months and fifty states and
right into the White House. I hadn’t believed it was possible, but maybe now I