As a smack dab baby boomer, I feel quite sorry for Hilary Clinton. She has worked so hard all these years and taken so much heat. Who would have thought that a junior senator could have come out of nowhere and so upset her carefully arranged apple cart? I didn’t like her before, but she has earned my grudging respect over this year, and from that respect comes the sympathy I now feel – watching her wave, spent, pull away from the shore.

I would have pulled the lever for her over war-horse McCain (or the mannequin Romney or the cadaverous Giuliani), but she is undeniably tied to the past, to the Democratic political machine, to her own set of special interests who paved her way, and Bill has revealed that he can still be a liability as well as an asset.

As she recedes, I find that risking our polity on Barack has me just a little queasy – he may really have to study the foreign policy manual she wouldn’t have to do more than review. But he has shown that he learns, and learns fast, so I have hope – an attitude my politically jaded and socially jaundiced wife laughs at.

I first voted in ’72, but I was old enough at Kennedy’s election to feel the electrical charge, and of course felt his death. I fear for tall Obama and hope his security detail is attentive. But, like Kennedy, may his deft touch and his instincts not fail him during this long and grueling campaign process, or in the years of office if they are, as I now expect, granted to him.


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