“When Tomorrow Comes …”

Pierre, South Dakota

“Do you hear the people sing, singing the song of angry men?
“It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again;

“When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums,
“There is a life about to start when tomorrow comes …”

—Do You Hear The People? (Les Miserables)

Messaging, 'til the last dog comes home / Photo: S. AuCoin

Our minds are on tomorrow as I write this during a punishing, eight-hour haul from Waterloo, Iowa, to South Dakota’s capital. (They knew what they were talking when they named this the Great Plains; My god, it’s endless!). It helps to have set off this morning knowing that Obama could lose every toss-up state (OH, MO, NC, IN, FL, NV and VA) and still take the big enchilada.

And that there’s no way in hell he’ll lose ‘em all.

We’ve got the volume up on music from Les Miserables, The Man from La Mancha, and Anthony Newley’s, Once In A Lifetime, and we’re singing along at the top of our lungs as if the lyrics had been written for Obama and us.

Damned odd not to be campaigning, though.

Several miles back, I started doodling something called the Low-Downest Post-Campaignin’ Blues. Relax, it’s never going to be published, much less sung!

While we’re here bouncing along on I-90W, Obama’s get-out-the-vote volunteers are out in force across the country—including Stacy, our daughter in Bozeman, who seems to have made it her personal responsibility to turn Montana blue.

Well, if you can’t give a speech or phone a voter, you do the next best thing. Noting that our Blazer’s rear window was bare, we opted for some Interstate freeway advertising. We painted the glass: VOTE OBAMA!

A driver just pulled alongside to see who was behind the wheel of this rolling billboard. Spotting two gray heads, he sped on. Other than that, our impromptu promotion is bringing no responses.

I should call the Gallup people and advise them there are no undecideds left.