This day is called the eve of the Election.
Those who outlive tomorr’w, and come safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
And rouse them when Election Day is mentioned.
Those who shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast their neighbours,
And say ‘Tomorrow’s the Election.’
Then will they strip their sleeve and show their scars,
And say ‘I got these in two thousand eight.’
The old forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But they’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats they did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in their mouth as household words-
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.
This story shall the parent teach their child;
And no more shall Election Day go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered —
We few, we happy few, we band of bloggers.
This is not just for the bloggers. This is for everyone across the country who has donated, canvassed, phonebanked, baked cookies, talked to their neighbors, put a bumper sticker on their car or otherwise spread the word about Barack Obama, change and hope.
And this is especially for those who have done so in the areas of the country where their opinions were not appreciated or, frankly wanted; and most especially for those who have stood up to hate, prejudice, ignorance and the potential of violence to find that one more voter who might tip the election.
This is for Steve Gilliard, Toot, Terence Tolbert, Studs Terkel, and everyone else who did not live to see tomorrow to fruition. They are in our hearts.
And finally, this is for America. We are finally on the verge of getting our country back.
