After hearing about the Barack Obama rally coming to Roanoke, I contacted the Obama campaign for media credentials. I never heard back from them after sending several e-mails to their media request page as they instructed. Perhaps they prefer the likes of Fox News and the mainstream media rather than a small progressive online publication in a state they need to win. Whatever.

So I decided to attend the rally as just a spectator. I wanted to simply absorb the whole experience. I’ve heard of Obama’s rockstar-esque public appearances but I had not seen the Senator from Illinois in person. I was looking forward to seeing the whole thing for myself.

The precipitation all morning had been falling as either a light mist or sometimes more substantial rain. The day was cool and damp, but I was fascinated to see the genuine enthusiasm of the people headed to the convention, despite the dreary day. Like many, Managing Editor Taryn Chase and I took advantage of the free shuttle service running between the Carilion parking garages and the civic center. Several cars in the parking garage sported Obama bumper stickers.

The Roanoke City Schools bus we boarded had a variety of passengers along with us. It seemed the Obama supporters bridged race, age, and socioeconomic status.

When we arrived at the civic center, the atmosphere reminded me of a ballgame or concert. The TV station satellite trucks lined the front of the arena. Vendors were selling all sorts of (probably bootleg) merchandise. One thing that was a bit different, though, was that security was quite strict.

I had stepped into the road to take pictures of the vendors and a policeman harshly told me to get out of the road. Now this was a road immediately next to the civic center. It was blocked off. There was no traffic. I have no idea why the two policemen (seen in the photo at left) didn’t want people in the road.

So I stepped a few feet closer to the vendors and continued to take photos. The policeman came up to me again with another harsh warning to get out of the road, despite the fact that I was only about two steps into the blocked off road. I was done with the overbearing policemen and decided to go into the arena.

The Roanoke Civic Center was mostly full by the time we entered at about 11:30 a.m.—an hour before the event would officially begin. We made our way through security (those guys were nice and were doing a good job), including passing through a metal detector and having bags checked. We meandered a bit and finally found seats near the back (section 30 if you’re familiar with the RCC) of the arena.

I could feel the anticipation in the air as songs played and eventually the likes of Rep. Rick Boucher and Sen. Jim Webb came out to prep the crowd. Webb, especially, took on an attack role, criticizing McCain, and got the crowd fired up for the man they were waiting to see.

As Webb introduced “the next President of the United States,” the crowd roared its approval. I tried to really soak up the moment. What did this mean? The yells and applause of the crowd drowned out the music that was playing. Flashes from cameras looked like strobe lights.

Now, I have been critical of Barack Obama throughout this campaign. I criticized his decision to go back on his word and not accept public campaign financing. I was appalled with his decision to support the FISA legislation. I’m not pleased with his health-care platform because I think it still falls well short of the universal health care that should be national policy. I’ve wondered about his experience, or a lack thereof. I’ve been disappointed by his negative ads.

Of course, the New River Voice has endorsed Obama for President, in part because we feel a McCain-Palin candidacy would continue the current trend of a crumbling America.

But I have to say that when Obama came to the stage, joined and raised hands with Boucher and Webb, and walked around the stage to give a few waves to the crowd, it was a moment hard to describe. In that moment, the enthusiasm was thick and hope ran freely. People believed. After eight horrendous years in American history, the people in that civic center expressed an outpouring of emotion at the prospect of hope.

I looked at a man to my left. He was white, probably in his 60s. He wore a cap, khakis, and a blue button up shirt with a blue cotton jacket. He looked much like the dads of friends of mine. His weathered hands and face indicated that he might be a blue-collar guy, someone who had spent some time outdoors for much of his life.

I watched that man wipe tears from his eyes. The journalist in me wanted to ask him the cause of this emotion he was feeling. What about Obama’s presence and being at this rally brought such a man to tears. But my respect for whatever he was feeling made me turn back to the stage and let him have his moment.

I’ve thought about that man for more than 24 hours. What did bring him to tears? Did he buy into the hope that Obama has continually espoused? Was he simply happy to have lived to see the day that a black man had a legitimate chance to be President of the United States? Was he so exasperated from the current political situation that he was ready to grasp onto any opportunity for a change?

I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t know. I’m not sure why my emotional reaction was not too different from his. But in that moment, I did have hope. I wanted to believe. I felt, just for a minute, that maybe America would be OK again.

Tim W. Jackson is Editor of the New River Voice.