One Sweet Day

This morning, I watched on television as Barack Obama stumbled his way through the presidential oath. But better a stumbling oath coming in than the bumbling oaf going out, I thought, as I marveled at the grand spectacle that only Americans can make out of themselves and such an occasion. Mind you, Americans can make a spectacle out of pretty much anything – I’ve seen football games with marching bands and cheerleaders and so much pomp and circumstance that you’d think the entire world was watching. And as I watched Obama take the reins, I realized I’ve never watched the swearing-in of any Canadian prime minister. Nor can I imagine two million Canadians turning out to line the streets of Ottawa to witness such an event. Besides, what would there be to watch? The only tradition attached to the transition of power from one Canadian leader to the next is that the outgoing prime minister has to ensure he leaves behind a box of fresh Tim Horton’s doughnuts. (Fresh, mind you!) But if that was the American tradition, each of the 12 doughnuts would be flown in on separate helicopters, each doughnut with its own gold tasseled pillow, and a booming baritone would announce the arrival of each tasty circle of dough: “Ladies and gentleman, Maple-Dipped Cruller!” And the crowd would cheer, albeit politely, because the maple-dipped cruller isn't their favorite of the dozen.

I say “he leaves a box,” even though Canada did have a female prime minister. Once. But Canada’s only female prime minister, Avril Phaedra Douglas "Kim" Campbell, never lived at 24 Sussex Drive, the official prime minister’s residence, so she wasn’t responsible for stocking the pantry of the incoming prime minister, so my statement still holds. And although Campbell’s term as prime minister lasted all of 132 days – barely enough time for a doughnut to become stale – she was still the country’s leader. Okay, okay, so she wasn't elected by the people. She became prime minister only because Brian Mulroney retired. But still – she was the prime minister.

And now that the world has seen the first African-American president of the United States – an event truly worth celebrating – I live in hope that soon the American people will elect a woman to be their president. I make no secret about my wish that it could have been Hillary with her hand on the Bible today instead of Barack, but I do wish him well. I hope he can fulfill the promise that most Americans have seen in him, and that the dreams he inspires in the people who have supported him will all come true. As a minority of citizens in the United States takes pride in having one of their own stand strong as the leader of all Americans, I hope that one day, the majority of Americans – women, women of all races, the women who outnumber men in the US by 153.6 million to 149.4 million – will take the same degree of pride in seeing a woman take the oath. And on that sweet day, I will go to Washington, I will join the millions of Americans I hope will be there to cheer her on, and I will raise a honey glazed high in her honor.