I've always loved a good conversation, especially with people whose views are different from mine. But this year, I have been vacillating between McCain and Obama, and without taking a clear stand, I found it hard to have any decent debates. I haven't met too many other vacillators.
I have, however, met plenty of hysterical partisans.
My McCain buddies have sent me countless e-mails warning me that an Obama victory might jeopardize the survival of Israel and endanger America, and my Obama buddies have been certain that the future of the Western world hangs on their man's victory.
If I tried to mention at a McCain table how an Obama victory would re-brand America globally, or how his ability to look at different sides of an issue might be a good thing for the country, or how there are advisers around him like Dennis Ross who could hardly be accused of being anti-Israel, I would invariably get an alarmed response demonizing the man. Conversation over.
If I expressed concern at an Obama table about his lack of experience, or his relationships with unsavory characters, or his politically convenient flip-flops on major issues, or if I brought up McCain's experience and independent nature, I would invariably get an indictment of McCain's war-like ways, or a demonizing of Sarah Palin. Conversation over.
People didn't just pick sides. They dug their heels into thick mud and barely moved. Unless you were surrounded by like-minded people where you could just pile on, you either had very short conversations or screaming matches.
So I came up with a secret plan. I shut my mouth. Instead of telling people how I felt about the candidates, I channeled the big "O."
Not the big O of Obama, but the big O of Observer. I became an observer and a listener. I soaked it up. I asked questions. I observed how people argued, what set them off and how people on both sides acted in similar ways. I learned that when emotions run so high and opinions are so intense, you learn a lot just by observing and studying the show.
And study I did. I read important writers on both sides. I read National Review and the Nation. I read the key blogs. I would go from the passion of Andrew Sullivan and Joan Walsh on the Obama side to the passion of Victor Davis Hanson and Mark Steyn on the McCain side. Somewhere in the middle, I would hear the moderating voice of David Brooks.
Because I have many friends whom I respect who are strongly anti-Obama, I tried to muster some animosity towards the man -- but I couldn't. Maybe it was because I remember how my mother cried on a November day in 1963 when she heard on the radio that President John Kennedy had died. I was a little kid, having dinner with my family in Morocco, and all I remember thinking was: Why would my mother cry for someone who lives so far away?
No matter how many alarming blog posts I read against Obama, I simply couldn't ignore the few billion people around the world who might soon look up in admiration to our African American president in the White House -- just like my mother looked up to Kennedy from her house in Morocco.
And no matter how many brilliant and valid critiques I would hear against Senator McCain, I couldn't stop thinking about the decent and heroic American that David Foster Wallace wrote about so lyrically when he covered McCain's "Straight Talk Express" for Rolling Stone magazine in the 2000 election.
Back and forth I went, seeing the power and weaknesses of both sides. Instead of engaging in exhausting debates, I channeled my passion away from ideology and toward understanding.
And by the time the winner was announced, I had received an unintended blessing from my dispassionate journey. A personal revelation, if you will.
It struck me that no matter who runs the White House -- even after a historic victory that my grandchildren will talk about -- they still won't be able to help me with the most important things in my life: How I raise and educate my kids, how I deal with my friends and community, how ethically I lead my life, how I give back to the world, how I grow spiritually, how I stand up for Israel and the Jewish people, how I live an eco-friendly life -- in short, how I help my country by taking personal responsibility for my own little world.
Those things are not so much "Yes, We Can," but more "Yes, I Can."
In fact, I have a wish that our eloquent new president will have the audacity to tell the nation that, for most of us, 99 percent of our happiness is in our own hands. While we await universal health care, we should take better care of our bodies and our health and save the country billions. While we await a better education system, we should read to our kids every night and teach them the values that will make them productive citizens. While we await government action to fight global warming, we should go green in our own lives. While we await a fix to the economic meltdown, we should learn to budget and spend within our means, and, for those of us who can afford to help, have the kindness to help those who have fallen through the cracks of our debt-ridden safety net.
The truth is, despite the headiness of this historic moment, neither President Obama nor President McCain could do for us what we need to do for ourselves and for our country. If our new president can inspire us to understand this truth, he will bring about the real change we need.