history

In 1992 during the general election my dad scared the living crap out of me. I was 11 years old and knew absolutely nothing about politics or government. But, as most little girls, I sincerely believed every word that came out of my dad’s mouth. It was obvious that my dad wasn’t a fan of Bill Clinton. He would say things like, “The day that son of a bitch is elected will be the last day of our lives as we know it.” And, “If that piece of shit makes it into office, Hanksville will disappear. We won’t be able to survive here and it will become the next ghost town in Utah.” Hanksville is my hometown. When I lived there the populations was about 250, but it’s now closer to 175. It’s in the middle of nowhere in southeastern Utah, but surrounded by some of the most beautiful parks Utah has to offer. Goblin Valley, Lake Powell, Capitol Reef National Park, The Arches, the Henry Mountains, etc. The odd thing about the people there though, is that they aren’t fans of the BLM or SUWA or environmentalists. They believe they can take care of all that land themselves and don’t need any authorities telling them how it’s done. And by the way my dad was talking, I was sure Bill Clinton was going to turn our entire town and the 100 mile radius around it into protected wilderness area and we would be driven out like the pioneers.

On election day, I stayed up with my dad to find out who won. When the word came that William Jefferson Clinton would be our next president, I slowly walked back to my room, laid down on my bed, and cried for a good 30 minutes until I fell asleep. At school the next day, I kept asking all of my friends if they knew what was going on and if they were scared. Nobody else seemed to have a clue what I was talking about, so I just told them to wait it out and they would see. Years later, it was obvious that my dad’s predictions had been ridiculous, even though he claimed the Grand Staircase National Monument was exactly what he was talking about. Even though Hanksville never changed, and life as I knew it continued to improve, something inside of me never liked President Clinton until I got to college and learned the truth about his presidency, of course.

Last night, we witnessed American history, and most of us were a part of it. We elected our country’s first black president. I’m still in shock, but happier and more proud than I’ve been in a really long time. For a while I was unsure that we were capable of doing something so momentous in my lifetime, which, I’m sure, is why I am still in awe. I can’t wait to see what the next four years bring us. I am almost certain things will only go up from here. But, despite my elation last night, my dad reminded me of the feelings I felt last time a Democrat took over the white house. He had to call me and say, “I’m wearing all black tomorrow to mourn the death of our country.” And, “you won’t be celebrating when gas is $15 a gallon and you have to wait in line for a bowl of soup.” No wonder I cried myself to sleep 16 y ears ago! My dad is such a drama queen! Thank goodness I broke the mold and went to college, otherwise I might still believe him. And for all of you out there who do believe him, or have similar thoughts, calm down and try reading more than just the Enquirer! The best is yet to come.