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If you could only see me now. I am mentally jumping up and down in my mind, waving an Obama for President sign. I have been waiting for this moment since I went to his rally, where he talked about Change early in '07, before announcing he was going to run for President. His was the first political rally, ok, first rally ever, I had been to. I am an Independent, and when I heard there was an African-American guy appearing on campus who might run for President, I had to go. I dragged my best (republican) girl-friend, and yes, I got swept up in the excitement of it all. I yelled, I clapped, I woo-hooed to my hearts content, and waved an Obama sign. I also bought the t-shirt (I'm a mama for Obama).

What has kept me these past 16 months with a candidate that many thought was a shot in the dark? I'm not black. I certainly was not a democrat, Independents rarely are. After Gore had the Presidency stolen from him in 2000, I had just about given up on politics. I started having the mindset of many of, “why vote if my vote doesn't count and can be over-ridden?” I had a son who joined the Army in order to support himself and his wife, and where did he end up? In Afghanistan with snow up to his thighs, frost-bitten toes and no heat in his tent. He was putting his life in jeopardy along with the lives of his unit, and I was okay with that. Then I learned he was going to be sent to Iraq, a war/fight/police action that should never have been started, by a man who should never have been President.

That night at the rally, I stood in line, not really expecting to shake Obamas' hand, or talk to him even, but I still stood there. And waited with all the other hopefuls who were pressing books into his hands for autographs, and I watched him. I watched him shake hands with each and every person there in line, say a small word to them, smile. And he got to me and shook my hand, and started moving on, only I didn't let go. I held on to his hand till he had no choice but to look at me and I was able to ask the one question that as a mother was most important to me, “if you are elected, will you bring my boy home?” He asked me where he was and I told him Afghanistan and he covered my hand with his other and told me yes.

I looked in his eyes and knew he was telling me the truth. What I saw in his eyes that night was not a black man who might run for this nation's highest office, but a man who was genuine, caring, and race didn't matter. I saw a future for our country that I could be proud of, instead of ashamed.

Since that night, I have watched every debate, read every article, joined his campaign, watched as he had to fight again and again to explain that he was American and not Muslim. I was watching the night a lady asked why he didn't wear a flag pin on his lapel, but didn't ask Clinton the same question of her patriotism. Patriotism is more than a pin, and I hope that woman has learned it by now. I watched my husband, always a staunch Republican, grow as a person and learn that it is not always about party loyalty, but what is best for the country.

I watched Obama grow as a politician into a statesman. But what I was impressed with the most? No matter what was thrown at him from other candidates, the journalists, the tabloids, and even the American people themselves, first and foremost, he was a gentleman. Who was the last true gentleman elected to office? I don't know, I'm only 50.

So, tune in this Fall for the greatest race of the season. You won't be sorry.