I have long defined my generation as those old enough to recall exactly where they were and how they felt the day President Kennedy was assassinated, yet young enough to be swept up in Beatles' mania when they first appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show a few months later. Consider; that someone born five years later than me would have had a coloring book in their hands in that hour. Five years earlier, like my two older brothers, and you had weaned yourself on Beatniks, Summertime Blues and Jailhouse Rock. A very narrow band of time defined my precise generation. We came of age during the coffee-house/folk music idealism of the early sixties. I had early Dylan records in my LP collection, Peter, Paul & Mary. When Kennedy said in his 1961 inaugural speech, 'the torch has been passed to a new generation' and 'ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country' the hearts and minds of my generation were swept away by that call to national service. We were going to change the world. We felt quite certain of it. Peace and love were our guiding lights. Nothing could let us down.

The rest is history, as they say.

What seems utterly remarkable to me in this momentous hour is not only the way in which a whole new generation has been swept up by Barack Obama and his grace, but how the long dormant idealism of my own generation has been reawakened from its long slumber. I spent a few hours yesterday afternoon giving my time and energy to a food bank for the homeless, and minute after minute, another car would pull up, laden down by another load of canned food, dry goods and old clothes. The age of these people ranged from twenty-something all the way up to their seventies. Some had taken the time in the course of a busy day to drive ten, fifteen miles in order to say, hey, I am a part of this movement. Across the generations, people had heard Obama's call to service and had gathered themselves up to the task. It speaks to how undying that spark of goodness is in our hearts. Suppressed, trampled upon and seemingly extinguished over the last eight years, a feeling of hope and expectation has been reignited, like someone had placed a spark in the dry brush around my Southern California home.

Well, enough from me. It is time to let the pageantry of history takes its course. Like Vin Scully announcing a good ball game, silence says more than anything when someone has hit a winning home run. I can only wish Barack Obama the very best in this hour. If we all roll up our sleeves and chip in a bit of our time to help out going forward, it will be a much different, and a far better world four years hence.

Well, one more thing. Hallelujah. Our long national nightmare is finally over...