My Last E-mail As President-elect :-(
“Sorry, Mr. President. Please surrender your BlackBerry. Those are seven words President-elect Barack Obama is dreading but expecting to hear…For years, like legions of other professionals, Mr. Obama has been all but addicted to his BlackBerry. The device has rarely been far from his side — on most days, it was fastened to his belt — to provide a singular conduit to the outside world as the bubble around him grew tighter and tighter throughout his campaign. But before he arrives at the White House, he will probably be forced to sign off. In addition to concerns about e-mail security, he faces the Presidential Records Act, which puts his correspondence in the official record and ultimately up for public review, and the threat of subpoenas. A decision has not been made on whether he could become the first e-mailing president, but aides said that seemed doubtful.”—the New York Times, November 16, 2008
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From: B-Rock4pres <barrackobama4pres@blackberry.verizon.net>
To: barrackobama4pres@blackberry.verizon.net
CC: Undisclosed List
Subject: My last e-mail as President-elect :-(
Date: Mon, 10 Nov 2008 4:32 pm
Dear friends,
I am afraid that “Yes, we can,” has at last developed into “Now, I can’t.” Yes, this is the last Blackberry e-mail I will likely send you. No more electronic bursts of White Sox fandom. No more encouragement on your legal accomplishments. No more basketball invites. No more private dispatches on the nature of Mr. McCain’s halitosis. No more mobile YouTube.
But we knew this day would come. We dreamed for it.
Four years ago, I virtually stood before you and thumb-typed an SMS narrative, that of a young man from Kenya and a young woman from Kansas who shared a belief that, in America, anyone could achieve anything. Well, you, Michelle and I, and the rest of our family, have realized that fantasy.
(It’s just that if you want to reach us now, you’ll now have to fill out a little virtual paperwork—a few questions, say, about your drug, chatroom, and job history. Oh, and tell us if you’ve been inoculated for hepatitis, and if you've ever had unprotected sex, or written a letter on behalf of Amnesty International.)
I leave my Blackberry, and through extension, the virtual social life that so many of us enjoy at a defining moment: a time when our nation fights two wars, our economy is in turmoil, and the American Promise has been threatened too many times for us to count, even with RIM's Calculator app.
Nothing, of course, would help us cope better right now than some consoling chats on Blackberry Messenger (talk about being SOL). But the rules have changed.
For one thing, you could forward me Palin jokes that could get me impeached (I know: I came up with them). In fact everything we type to each other could be forever logged—say, my note last week about how when I dropped my comforting hand onto W.'s shoulder as we entered the White House (you proud of that power move, Rahmbo?), I felt him shudder like the little ol’ racist we always knew him to be.
Yes, this is a depressing predicament. :(
But more depressing and therefore empowering is the degree of change we must all fight for by working hard together.
This country is more decent than one where a grandma in Ohio, on the brink of retirement, finds herself just one biopsy away from disaster after a lifetime of hard labor.
We can rise above the virtual silence that will be imposed on us. We can be more than Jpegs on her digital photo frame.
Agree with me? Visit Change.gov and fill out that application to speak to me in the flesh. The questionnaire is only 472 quickly read digi-pages and should take you no longer than the time in the air it will take you to fly to the Washington security checkpoint, where you’ll have to undergo just a few physical measures to: ensure that you are who you say you are, that you don’t have that nasty stomach flu that’s been going around, and that no one’s implanted a digital voice recorder in the base of your skull.
Once you get through the checkpoint, do not worry. We are no longer a nation of worriers. We are a nation of doers.
The hope that you and I will someday speak in person about your son’s 4th birthday pictures is the same hope that I apply to the American economic crisis.
We are all equal in my eyes. And this moment is our chance to keep, in the 21st century, the American promise of communication alive.
Never before have we had to struggle so hard simply to say 'hello, have you seen that TMZ post?' But we will prevail.
One of Senator McCain’s chief advisers, the man who authored his economic plan, called us "a nation of whiners." A nation of whiners?
Tell that to the proud auto workers at a Detroit GM plant who, after they learned via e-mail that it was closing, kept appearing at work and laboring as hard as they ever did, only checking their Treos and Instincts on coffeebreaks. These men and women, owners of a diverse array of mobile devices, knew American drivers depended on the shocks and struts they produced. HuffPo would wait.
Tell that “nation of whiners” story to the army, marines, and navy families who shoulder their burdens reticently as they hear, via Skype, about their flesh and blood leaving for their eighth, ninth, or thirteenth tours of duty through lands without data connections or Wi-Fi.
These are not whiners. They work their hearts out, they give back, and they keep forging ahead without complaining, even through Mobile Facebook.
These are the Americans I know.
And these are the reasons I will now turn off my new Blackberry Storm, sacrificing the touchscreen goodness I have been waiting for since the day you all shoved your iPhones in my face.
One day I will return to the world of voice-search, QWERTY speech-writing on the go, and e-dialogues about the state of California’s Prop 8. One day I will play BrickBreaker and shoot a quick vid of Michelle on her bike again.
Until then, my friends, my wife, my children, please find me through Change.gov and keep hope alive that one day we may actually communicate again in a sweeter America, a kinder America, a better America.
Yours : \
B-Rock
