COLUMN: "The Intentional Tourist"

From Margo Shea's "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised," Fall '92 At first, I thought I might feel some sympathy for his discomfort. But after a moment's reflection I said, "Damn, now he knows how I've felt for the last twelve years!" Needless to say, I responded to the election results with celebration, not constipation. I finally unglued myself from the television at Colonial Pizza last Tuesday night when Perot's band started warming up to play "Way On Down in New Orleans" -- enough to pull all but the diehards away from the screen -- and Peter Jennings announced that Clinton had received his 269th electoral vote. I called home from a pay phone on the street. When my father picked up the receiver, I started to sing, "Hey, hey, hey Goodbye! Nana Na Na, Nana Na Na " We talked about the long lines at the polls, the decisiveness of Clinton's victory, the fate of the nation -- and the party my sister was having at that moment in Jackson, Wyoming. "I remember 1948," said my dad, "when my friends and I were the only Democrats on campus. We rolled a keg down Locust Street when we heard that Truman won." On election night, listening to his memories made me feel happy, connected to something much bigger than my self -- not just to a candidate, but to a form of hope. As we said goodnight, Dad murmured in his sagelike voice, "Ahh, the pendulum swings." I thought about his words as I walked home through the darkened streets of West Philly, even as I anticipated meeting a stray keg, rolling along the sidewalk to commemorate the Democratic win. I realized at that moment that the pendulum had swung toward me for the first time since I've reached political consciousness. When Reagan became our President, I was ten years old -- and more in tune with Judy Blume than Jimmy Carter. I developed my political awareness amidst an administration divorced from the ideals and beliefs which gradually became part of me. Looking to Washington, I saw a government whose policies romanticized war, legitimized racism, rewarded sexism and trivialized growing problems. The federal government had embodied what I fight against, not what I fight for. I've only visited the nation's capital in protest -- rallying for affordable housing, criticizing our policies in Central America, fighting for choice, questioning the legitimacy of a war, commemorating those who've died at the hands of AIDS. I demonstrated, not in faith that it would generate real change, but for the reassuring feeling of being surrounded by Americans who share my feelings about our nation's priorities. It's amazing. Members of our new administration may have actually been at one or two of those rallies! Bill Clinton's victory excites me, but not because I think he's going to get rid of all our problems, give us all jobs, make us all healthy and help everybody in the country get along with one another. Hell, not even Hillary Clinton could do all that. As a nation, we have a lot of problems to solve, and the responsibility for change still rests with us. But for the first time since I've cared about politics, I feel politically invigorated -- more a member of a struggling team than the heckler in the bleachers. As one woman said last week, "Now, I've finally got something to keep track of." Bush's loss shows a growing national awareness that the pot has to be stirred, and things just cannot continue as they have for the last twelve years. Steve Lopez, a writer for The Philadelphia Inquirer, put it well in his column last Wednesday: "For twelve years, people have only been told what they wanted to hear. The results aren't pretty. Good morning, folks. Naptime's over." At the end of his victory speech, Clinton began to prod us awake. He said, "I still believe in a place called Hope." I, for one, am eagerly watching to see how his words translate into actions, and to do whatever I can to set us in a new direction. Maybe now Washington can represent something more than what's wrong with this country maybe something closer to hope. You know, I might take a trip down there one of these days, but not to march or shout. Just to check out the sites. Margo Shea is a senior Urban Studies major from Meriden, Connecticut. "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" appears alternate Thursdays.