Recently, I tweeted this:
I was a Military Police K-9 handler. I reject police brutality & support peaceful protest.#TakeTheKnee #VeteransForKaepernick pic.twitter.com/ILB3YRkGi0
— Jon Zal (@OfficialJonZal) September 25, 2017
I have more to say about it than a tweet will allow. Here goes.
Dear Mr. President,
Let me begin by saying the two words you deserve to hear cross the lips of every American citizen, whether they know it or not:
Thank you.
Thank you for the tireless work you have done and the many sacrifices you have made on behalf of our country.
Thank you for the dignity, grace, class and gravitas with which you have held our nation’s highest office.
Thank you for not eschewing facts, science, logic, reason, and your own superior intellect in order to appeal to the lowest common denominator.
Thank you for your willingness and ability to endure the disgusting hatred and racism that throughout your presidency have been directed at you, at our amazing First Lady, and at your beautiful family as a whole. The most naive among us — myself included — were hopeful your historic election was a sign that the racial divides in our country had become less pervasive than is actually the case. Your presidency has been, and forever shall remain, a major step toward that goal, but many of us underestimated just how loud, ugly, desperate and energized the filth among us would become when faced with the reality of the more equal, more inclusive, more compassionate society that your presidency has represented.
The pride and patriotism I felt when you were elected, and again on the day you took office, remain unmatched. Other than my time in uniform, I have never been more proud to be an American than I was when you became my president.
And then, I failed you.
I was an outspoken supporter during both of your presidential runs, and I contributed what little cash I could here and there throughout your campaigns. Once you were in office, however, my position could best be summed up as: “He’s got this.”
“He’s got this” was a cop out. “He’s got this” was my epic failure to be the citizen you deserved. “He’s got this” earned us the predicament in which we now find ourselves.
I have, in recent years, heard some of my fellow progressives complain that much of the change you so sincerely and hopefully promised during your first presidential campaign has not been realized, and that this failure is yours. It is not. It is mine. It is ours … the millions of us who voted for you, who placed upon you the expectation that you would fight for us … and who then failed to fight alongside you.
When then-Speaker of the House John Boehner (whose name you so kindly pretended should be pronounced “Bay-ner”) said of your political agenda, “We’re going to do everything — and I mean everything — we can do to kill it, stop it, slow it down, whatever we can” … I was furious. When then-Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell said that “the single most important thing” he and his shamefully selfish Republican party wanted to achieve was not to help the American people, but to instead make sure you were “a one-term president,” I was disgusted.
But also? I was busy. I had a job and a wife and two little kids and, hey, “He’s got this.” Besides, what could I do, really?
For seven of the eight years during which you have been our president, I have lived in Pennsylvania. Not until this month have I known the names of both of my U.S. senators, nor that of my House Rep. Not once during your presidency did I contact their offices. Not once did I do much more than simply cast a vote for you and then say “He’s got this.”
Mr. President, please accept my apology for not doing more to support you during your time in office. You gave me an opportunity to make the most of your presidency, and I wasted it.
As I watched you speak in Chicago the other night, I was filled with emotion. I, of course, was reminded of that November night when you strode onto a similar stage after winning the presidency in what can legitimately be described as a landslide. The emotions that flooded me then were pride and hope and happiness. The emotions that flooded me this time were gratitude and regret and sorrow. Gratitude for all you’ve done for us. Regret for not doing more in my role as a citizen when you needed me most, and for not better appreciating just how lucky we were to have you. Sorrow for how horribly wrong things have gone.
And yet, despite the fact that I and so many others have failed to be the citizens you deserved, you still spoke to us with the same fire and conviction and hopeful optimism that define you. You still inspired me. You still, at the end of eight often-frustrating years in the White House, believe that we who fell so woefully short of our commitment to you are capable of making right that which we’ve allowed to go so wrong.
Thank you for everything. My last ask is the same as my first. I'm asking you to believe—not in my ability to create change, but in yours.
— President Obama (@POTUS) January 11, 2017
Mr. President, thank you for not losing faith in me, despite my having given you every reason to do so. Thank you for continuing to believe that I can be the citizen you deserved while in office.
This is a picture of a letter I received last week from my Republican congressional representative. It is his response to my inquiry regarding the Republicans’ secret vote for a planned amendment to gut the Office of Congressional Ethics (which, I was pleasantly surprised to learn, he voted against). In the wake of that secret vote, and on the heels of last November’s disastrous election outcome, I and others like me finally found our voices. We flooded our representatives’ phone lines and inboxes with our fury and discontent … and the Republicans were forced to back down.
That small victory has given me and others a taste of what we can accomplish when we organize and engage in the political process. That small victory is an example of what you had hoped we’d do while you were our president. I apologize for not doing it sooner.
You deserved to go out on a much higher note than the one now playing, and I believe it is more our fault than yours. And for that, I am sorry.
Mr. President, thank you again for all you’ve done. Now it’s our turn.
We’ve got this.
I bought this shirt about a year ago, not long after President Obama (President Obama! Sweet Jumping Jesus H. Christ on a pogo stick, I love saying that!) won the Iowa Caucus. At the time, I still thought he was a bit of a long shot, but, after having started off the campaign season convinced that Hillary was my candidate, I suddenly found myself swept up in the excitement of Barack Obama’s candidacy. The man moved me — and still does. And, thankfully, he also moved a majority of the voting public last November.
I vividly remember, with crystal clarity, sitting on the couch with my wife in our old apartment exactly eight years ago today, and being in a state of complete disbelief that the man taking the oath of office was actually going to be our president for at least four years. I just could not wrap my head around it.
When that same man was re-elected in 2004, I was done holding out any hope for presidential politics, and as the past eight years ticked by, I pretty much resigned myself to the fact that the relatively youthful experiment that is America was headed toward a complete collapse, perhaps within my lifetime.
Today, I feel like I have been awakened from an eight-year-long, dark, dreary and depressing stupor to find that our nation is still capable of doing great things—and that our nation itself is still great.
I am elated and proud to have Barack Obama as my president. What an incredible day.
In the days immediately following 9/11, there was a feeling, and a display, of patriotism in this country the likes of which I had never experienced. When I would go out for a run during those first weeks, I would keep my mind occupied by counting all of the American flags I saw along my route.
The past 24 hours mark the first time since that post-9/11 period that I have been overwhelmed by a feeling of true pride in being an American. I had feared desperately that the political and ideological rifts that exist in this country, along with outright racism and fear of the unknown, would combine to prevent Barack Obama from becoming the 44th president.
I remember watching that asteroid movie back in the ’90s—not the Bruce Willis one; the other one—in which Morgan Freeman was cast as the president. I remember thinking how wonderful a concept that was, and how entirely unlikely it was that I would ever see such a thing happen.
I recall watching “The West Wing” during its final season and seeing Jimmy Smits portray a Latino presidential candidate—an exceptionally bright, composed, dignified man who took the high road throughout his campaign, and whose words, actions, integrity and gravitas truly inspired people, to the point that he did, in fact, become the president. I remember the sense of disappointment I would feel when an episode would end and reality would come back into focus—a reality that had left me feeling certain that seeing such a man, and a minority member at that, become our president was a fantasy that could only take place in a fictional world.
I can’t even tell you how unbelievably fortunate I feel to be alive at this time, and to see happen that which I thought was completely improbable, if not impossible.
And whereas my previous flood of patriotic feelings were brought on by an unimaginable tragedy, the catalyst this time is an unimaginable victory. It is, quite literally, a completely alien and unique sensation, and one that I am savoring as much as is humanly possible.
