Jet Pilot

While out for my morning Gump, my iPod landed on a song I hadn't heard since the Bush years, a song actually about the Bush years. Son Volt's "Jet Pilot" may not offer the opaque and deep lyrics common of lead singer Jay Farrar, but the hard-charging guitars have always hit that chord inside. Years back, when I couldn't muster a response to the egregious acts carried out by our previous administration, I would often turn to this song. Like the best political songs, this one, at least in fury, represented exactly how I felt inside.

"Jet pilot found a way, got a passing grade, made it to the world stage. A hemisphere away, death is on display, the sins that never wash away."

After memories of the Bush years subsided, I thought of where we're at today. I thought of the pride I felt back in November 2008. I thought of the accomplishments amassed by our current president. But more than anything, I recognized that the feelings once brought on by this song have dissipated. And again, I thought of Barack Obama, as I ran down the same street I ran down the morning of the election. On that morning, my legs felt lighter as I rounded corners wearing my Obama t-shirt. I'll never forget the cars honking, a random stranger tossing me a high five and the hope and joy that many of us felt, just pondering the possibility of what may happen on that night. As I recently said to my Mother, who to this day, still talks with gleaming pride about the Kennedy years. "Obama's my Jack Kennedy," I said. And then I thought, perhaps even more.