Sam is homeless and we're holed up in the corner of an 11th floor office in the Chicago skyscraper that houses Barack Obama's volunteer efforts. It's sticky in mid-July and both of us are attendees at Camp Obama, the campaign's field training operation.
As an ex-reporter and HuffPost alumn, I've never been compelled to put down the notepad and my cushy seat on the sidelines to support a candidate playing in the actual game. But the senator from Illinois is a moment in time worth the impending suspicious looks from my so-called objective media brethren. I've devoured Dreams from My Father, bought the "Obama for President" hat and the stars in my eyes are dilated with audacious hope. The notebook is back, but this time the pen is poised to learn about canvassing, phone banking and community organizing. (I imagine at some cocktail party in the indefinite future I'll shrug and argue that we can't all be Bob Woodward or Judy Miller.)
At first I assume I will have little in common with Sam, but he supports the Senator for the same reasons I do: Obama represents the emergence of the contemporary American, is a consensus builder who seeks core solutions over Band-aids, and of all the Democrats pimping liberal platforms he's the most capable and sincere leader who is most likely to win the general election. It should be noted that this argument comes from a girl who used to tear up at the thought of Hillary in the White House and vehemently proclaimed that if the former First Lady ever sought the presidency she would abandon whatever she was doing to hold a Hillary sign on the first available sidewalk.
So how, you might ask, did this Defected Daughter of Hillary find herself bonding with a homeless guy over an underdog candidate whose message is barely discernable from her girlhood heroine's?
It's a slight but important distinction: I'm interested in the future.
Hillary boldly marinated in misogyny so that the country wouldn't flinch when Nancy Pelosi was sworn in as Majority Leader, and she paved the way for young women like me to pursue our wildest political dreams. For this I am zealously grateful. But she and Bill had power and lost it in personal scandal and vicious partisan politics. After the eight post-Clinton years we've experienced as a result, I'd rather put my faith in someone who isn't mired in old squabbles and establishment loyalties. The Republicans are only silent now because they're dying to run against her! Furthermore, if she were a man I would never be able look past her vote to authorize the Iraq war. I understand the impulse to overcompensate for the female-commander-in-chief criticisms, but Obama courageously used his good judgment to oppose this misguided, endless mess from the start.
Plus, the guy is unequivocally inspiring.
Sam and I swapped these beliefs with many Obama supporters that summer day. Our classmates included a mother from Texas, a student from Seattle, an immigrant from Finland who couldn't event vote, an older woman who hadn't been active in politics since JFK's candidacy and a high school senior who was excited about her first election.
Fast-forward to Sunday, when I'm reading the New York Times' story about Obama's "last ditch" effort to more aggressively take on Hillary. It's one of many stories in recent weeks reporting that his momentum is decelerating and that the passengers on the Hope Train are ready to find a new ride.
I read it after attending the celebration of Obama's California office opening in Koreatown. The place was packed with sweaty, cheering loyalists and newbies making phone calls, buying shirts, sharing personal stories. On days like this, the media messages are disconnected from the personal experience I'm having as a volunteer and advisor to his California campaign.
Since my adventures at Camp Obama, I've been lucky to see him connect with people from all walks of life: at hipster young professional parties, at speeches before the working poor, at Oprah's swanky Santa Barbara mansion singing with Stevie Wonder. No matter whose company this man is in, and no matter whose ears hear the message -- "We don't have to settle for what the world is, we're going to strive for what it might be." -- it is always compelling.
For those who haven't yet experienced it: The words don't fall flat, people. They are not a sound bite or an empty promise followed by a wimpy handshake. They are not lip service nor power-hungry. The message is not even profound; it's power lies in the fact that it's a simple gut instinct delivered by a real leader. In a world with cluttered priorities, he's presenting us with a standard and asking us to join a movement that is about our own personal expectations, be they for ourselves, our communities, this country or this world.
Right now his message lives in Iowa and New Hampshire because our antiquated electoral process puts all the emphasis on primary states. But don't be surprised if it smacks you in the face sometime around January 14.
I won't be surprised. People always doubt him, and he always proves them wrong. To borrow from something the senator said last weekend at Ron and Kelly Meyer's Malibu fundraiser: "I'm a 46-year-old black man named Barack Obama. This was always going to be hard."
After hearing him that day, I left ready to broker world peace or at least scale Mt. Everest. I'm sure every campaign has it's own homeless guy, Oprah and excitable young people. But I can't imagine that it feels like this.
I don't care if I have to defend my support to yet another person equipped with the results of a national Gallup poll. (Seriously, who answers those anymore? People sitting with all the lights out watching big-screens while eating frozen dinners on TV trays who happen to be near their home phones at 7pm?) I don't care if Hillary sends 1,000 new staffers to Iowa or if dozens more Robert Farmers who hedged their bets flee to the frontrunner.
It's a time to stand for something. And I and the 365,000 donors (92.5 percent of them $250 or less!) who have voted with their wallets, and the unquantifiable more who have dedicated their time and voices to the senator, are still confident in his ability to connect with Americans who are disengaged or jaded by the political process. I believe he is our best chance to regain our stake in governance and re-establish ourselves as a global compass.
Perhaps the 27-year-olds sporting glassy eyes and Mondale signs in 1984 sensed a similar momentum, but if Barack Obama is losing, I want to sink on the ship with him.