They were not afraid

This is in memory of Michael Schwerner, James Chaney and Andrew Goodman, two Jews and a black man who were murdered in 1964 simply for trying to ensure that all Americans had equal rights and equal protection under the law. I've been thinking about them this week in light of Barack Obama's election to be our next president.



All three showed great courage. Schwerner and Goodman could have enjoyed their comfortable white, Jewish middle class lives, but something compelled them to go to Mississippi. This was a time of legal segregation, when African-Americans in the South could not vote. They knew that until we're all free, no one is free. Somewhere along the line, we forgot about that on Tuesday - in California, Florida, Arkansas and Arizona, were antigay ballot measures were approved. Here's another reminder:

"Gays and lesbians stood up for civil rights in Montgomery, Selma, in Albany, Ga. and St. Augustine, Fla., and many other campaigns of the Civil Rights Movement. Many of these courageous men and women were fighting for my freedom at a time when they could find few voices for their own, and I salute their contributions."
Coretta Scott King

Meet the presidents

I'd never heard of Patrick Moberg before this afternoon, but this illustration is pretty awesome. I mean, it sums things up perfectly, doesn't it? When I saw it on Andrew Sullivan's The Daily Dish, I knew I had to have one for my own. (If you'd like a copy, Moberg says on his blog that you can sign up to be notified when high-quality prints become available.)

And one other thing: I was watching President-elect Barack Obama's first news conference this afternoon and I found myself scanning the room to see how many other black people were there. I didn't see many, either among the media asking questions or the economic advisers standing behind him. Am I the only one who's fixated on this? It just reminded me how many other aspects of American life are, well, not very diverse.

Barack and the butter cow lady

Am I the only one who still feels a bit in shock three days after the election? Just reading the words "President-elect Barack Obama" gives me a chill and has me grinning from ear to ear. And what about the Bradley effect? Didn't that turn out to be the biggest pile of nothing since Y2K had us all petrified that our computers would stop working on Jan. 1, 2000?

But in the midst of all the excitement, all the punditry over what made his historic win possible, I want to give a shoutout to my friend Doug Lyon's mom, whose pivotal support in Iowa last fall was one of the things that helped set the first-term Illinois Democrat - a tall, skinny black man with a funny name and big ears - on the road to becoming our 44th president.

I thought Obama's speech at the 2004 Democratic National Convention was electrifying, and I was so impressed with him after reading his forthright and poignant memoir, Dreams from My Father. But as someone with a deep interest in the history of race in this country, I felt that the odds were against a black man being elected president of the United States. While we've come a long way, I thought that there was still too much dividing white and black America.

Then something happened that gave me pause, opened my mind up to the possibility of Barack Obama being elected president.

In October, Doug's parents, well-known Iowa dairy farmers Joe and Norma "Duffy" Lyon, endorsed Obama for the Democratic presidential nomination. Duffy, famous for her butter cow sculptures at the Iowa State Fair, recorded a radio ad voicing her support and later made a bust of Obama in butter. The campaign spent some time with the Lyons at their farm in Toledo, in Tama County, and shot this video.

If you watch the video and listen to the radio ad, you'll realize that the fact that Obama was black and had a funny sounding name didn't seem to bother Joe and Duffy Lyon at all. They sound very comfortable expressing their support. And I like to think that in them, Obama saw something of his own Kansas born and bred grandparents, Madelyn and Stanley Dunham.

The Lyons talked about what was at stake in the presidential campaign, about their fears and their hopes for their state and their country. Joe said Obama reminded him of John F. Kennedy and Duffy talked about his plan for rural America and the need to provide opportunities to young people so they don't have to leave Iowa to follow their dreams.

When Obama won the Iowa caucuses in January, it was seen as a turning point in his campaign, a sign that he had widespread appeal as a presidential candidate if he could win in the heartland, in a state with a tiny African-American population. Obama went on to win Iowa on Tuesday, and he carried Tama County.

Doug is modest about this, but I honestly believe that his mother's endorsement helped Obama win the Iowa caucuses and put him on the path to victory as the nation's first African-American president. As one writer put it, the Lyons' backing gave him some "tractor cred."

I wrote in August that the Lyons' were my favorite Obama supporters, and not just because their son has become a dear friend, a man who has been so incredibly generous and sweet and welcoming to me in the short time we've known each other.

They're my favorite Obama supporters for one simple reason: They remind me that it's possible in this country to break down barriers and effect change. All it takes is a big heart, an open mind and enough common sense to realize that what unites us as Americans is much more important than what divides us.

So Duffy and Joe, I hope you're savoring this moment and the role you played in making history.

A disappointing vote

As thrilled as I am at the election of Barack Obama as the nation's first African-American president, I am so disappointed over the outcome of Proposition 8 in California. The ballot measure banning gay marriage passed with the support of more than 52 percent of the vote. Opponents of same-sex marriage also won in Arizona and Florida.

I have to admit that I'm too angry and heartsick to blog about the California vote at any length. I'm afraid I'll write something that I'll regret.

But I have to say this: What angers me the most is the way supporters of Proposition 8 tried to argue that they were protecting families, and especially children, from some supposed threat posed by same-sex couples getting married. I will never understand how it could possibly hurt one straight man, woman or child in California if gay and lesbian citizens were treated equally under the law.

Perhaps a couple of years ago, I could have been detached about it, but not anymore, not when they're talking about good, decent people, friends who have enriched my life immeasurably. I have seen my gay and lesbian friends' relationships up close, I have been a guest in their homes. I know that their love harms no one, threatens no one. It especially does not threaten children.

There are many, many threats to children in this world, including inadequate health care, inadequate education, a lack of decent food and housing, domestic violence and the inability of their parents to earn a living wage. I don't see a groundswell of support to do anything about any of them.

As a Jew, I know from history what it's like to have lies told about you, how dangerous that can be, how difficult it is to bring truth to the forefront. Martin Luther King said that "no lie can live forever." I hope he was right.

Yes we can!

If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible, who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time, who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.

It's the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Hispanic, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled. Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been just a collection of individuals or a collection of red states and blue states.

We are, and always will be, the United States of America.

President-elect Barack Obama

I got out of work at about 1 a.m. and like I always do, I drove by the State House in Providence on my way home. Usually, it's pretty quiet. There's hardly anyone out on the streets and just a few other cars on the road.

So I wasn't prepared for what I saw: hundreds of people walking up the brick pathway, across the gently sloping manicured lawn, toward the building's marble steps.

I did a quick U-turn, parked the car and joined the parade. They were mostly young - black and white - and they were an incredibly joyous bunch, waving American flags and shouting "O-BA-MA" and "Yes we can!"

I stood there for a few minutes, taking it all in, fumbling with my cell phone as I tried to figure out how to take a picture. It was a thrilling end to a truly historic evening. As I headed home, I could hear the crowd singing:

Oh say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

Happy Election Day!

Please indulge me as I take off my theatre geek hat and put on my history and politics geek hat.

Campaign buttons are one of my favorite parts of the political process - right up there with watching the roll call of the states at the nominating conventions and waiting for the returns to come in on election night.

There are lots of ways to go about a campaign button - simple and to the point or more indirect and using a bit of humor. Whichever approach is chosen, buttons are at the intersection of history, politics and pop culture. They can tell us quite a bit about where we've been as a country and where we are today.

Here's an opinion piece, "People of the Button," that ran last month in the New York Times. Rabbi Peter Schweitzer amassed a collection of presidential campaign buttons that were designed to appeal to Jewish voters. The buttons are now at the National Museum of American Jewish History, in Philadelphia. There's also a short slide show of some of the items in Schweitzer's collection.

The Wilkie button is one of those with a hidden meaning. If you were a Jewish voter in 1940, you probably realized Wendell Wilkie's last name was written in Hebrew-style script. If you weren't Jewish well, you probably wouldn't think about it at all. Schweitzer says this seems to be the first use of Hebrew calligraphy to communicate a political allegiance. But the button didn't help the Republican Wilkie against incumbent Democrat Franklin D. Roosevelt. He only garnered about 10 percent of the Jewish vote.

By the 1970s, things had changed in America and for campaign buttons. The melting pot went out the window and we were embracing our diversity. It was no longer unheard of for members of a group to boldly and unequivocally express their support for a political candidate. This one is pretty typical - it has Nixon's name in English as well as Hebrew. (Remember to read the Hebrew from right to left, people!)

The McCain and Obama buttons in Schweitzer's collection couldn't be more different - which makes them kind of interesting. I'm not saying one approach is better than the other - they're just different.

The McCain button is straightforward and to the point - and it's entirely in English, which makes it immediately understandable and accessible by everyone. Plus, the emphasis is on "Jewish Americans" and not simply "Jews."

On the other hand, the Obama button, perhaps aiming to be a bit humorous, is entirely in Hebrew. But it might be too much of an inside joke. Whereas the Wilkie button worked on two levels - even if you weren't Jewish, you got the point - this one requires that you're at least able to recognize those are Hebrew letters.

Ironically, a generation ago, more Jews would have been able to read the Obama button than today. (Like your bubbe and zayde in Florida, for example. Hmmm, maybe it is for them?)

Of course, the button could be designed as a conversation starter, which isn't a bad idea either.

So, happy voting and please, if you're in California, vote "no" on Proposition 8, to ensure that all Americans are treated equally and all families enjoy the same protections. This is a historic day in the long and difficult struggle for civil rights. It's a day to go forward - for all Americans.

Daniel Radcliffe talks theatre

I loved the Harry Potter books but I've never been all that crazy about the movies. It's nothing personal, they're not bad movies. I just get more out of the books - they're richer, more detailed. And I'm not a huge Daniel Radcliffe fan. I feel bad saying this, because he was just a kid the first time I saw him on screen, but his performance always seemed a bit bland.

But I saw an interview with Radcliffe on Theater Talk and I was so impressed with what he had to say as he discussed preparing for his role in Equus, first in London and now on Broadway. At the tender age of 19, he just struck me as a very thoughtful young man who obviously takes his craft seriously.

And I loved what he said when Michael Riedel of the New York Post asked him what he'd learned from his Equus costar Richard Griffiths. Radcliffe responded that the main thing he'd learned was the importance of keeping his performance fresh.

"Someone asked me, How do you make it fresh every night? Well, I said, you just remember that people are paying exorbitant amounts of money to come and see you and it has to be the first time you've done it for them. If I change a line reading or whatever on stage, Richard is quick enough and listens so brilliantly that he will just go with it and be able to use it to make the scene fresh. So that's the main thing I've learned, just about keeping the play as sort of a living thing, not just rest on your laurels."

Radcliffe was 12 when Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone came out in 2001. While the interview has made me even more excited about seeing his Broadway debut, part of me thinks it'll feel a little weird to see him in an adult role. Even though I've watched him grow up over the course of the Harry Potter films, I still have that mental picture of him as a little boy.