prematurely grey

Last night, I was perched right on top of the band in the Pepsi Center. (Will post pics later, if my technological renaissance doesn’t come to a crashing end.) Two thoughts:

1. This band is tight. Seriously good. (Here’s a little background information from NPR and a good blog post on the band’s origins.)

2. Watching the band at work, it’s clear exactly what kind of TV show the Democrats are putting on. It’s American Idol or Dancing With the Stars. Yes, the band’s pulling a Paul Schaefer with the songs (Following up Clinton with “Addicted to Love” might have been a little too late night for this situation, however), but whenever they started to play a speaker onto the stage, I felt like they would be better off bursting into song.

Thinking about the American Idol connection brings up what was missing from the show. The convention has no Ryan Seacrest to say, “Wasn’t Senator Kerry great? Let’s give him another big hand, ladies and gentlemen.”

I was just talking about this with Tech Support Guy and he made this stunning observation:

Last night, Obama was Ryan Seacrest. “How about Joe Biden?” “Senator Clinton rocked the house last night.” “Mama Biden.” He told us what to think about the past three days. He was jaunty and casual. He was having a good time. And he wasn’t in the competition. It’s his show–why should he worry.

When Obama walked out on stage, most of the people around me were shocked. I hadn’t checked Twitter for a while, so I was surprised too. But not too surprised. It made sense. It was an Oprah moment. And that’s when it clicked.

I’ve been thinking about Oprah the past couple of days. I’ve been missing her, even though I never watch her show. I have the feeling that the Obama people asked her not to come. There’s no end to the fun the Republicans would have if Oprah was around. But I miss Oprah.

Personally, I’ve been having nothing but Oprah moments this whole convention. I’ve been meeting people who seem to have been put in my path. I’ve been touching people who need a helping hand. I’ve listened to a woman who felt physically ill after watching “Trouble the Water.” I’ve listened to a man from Biloxi as he thought out loud about whether to go home; he’d just gotten a call about the hurricane and knew people were worried. Clearly, he was a leader, an important person in southern Mississippi. I hugged this man at the end of our conversation and told him out loud that I’d be praying for him.

I am a skinny, white Episcopal woman who grew up on the Upper East Side. We are not known for our offers to pray for people. That’s really not our thing. But there I am, comforting African American leaders as they continue to deal with our post-Katrina reality.

Last night, when Obama walked out on stage, it was like everyone in the hall had just been told there’s a key under each and every one of your seats. It was a gift. From Obama.

Who needs Oprah?