Its frightening how our wildest fears are being realized as Trump is ensuring his candidacy as the Republican nominee.  This is supposed to be the type of incredulous unraveling of events that occur in a popular Netflix series or an outrageously satirical political film – not real life.  But I guess fact can seriously, and scarily, be stranger than fiction.

With all this crazy election drama happening in our midst, I can’t help reminiscing about happier times. While I watched Obama’s speech at his White House Correspondent dinner this year, I couldn’t help but mourn the departure of our composed and charming POTUS.  Yeah, he’s not perfect and I didn’t agree with all of his policies, but he was likable, intelligent, and sincere.  And given his background and upbringing, his story felt like a true underdog tale.  I remember reading “Dreams from My Father” and feeling inspired & hopeful, reading about someone who overcame and rose above a challenging, fragmented past.  He was the president of my adulthood, and the first & only president I voted for.  In late 2007, I was living in Seoul at the time following the campaign news & updates, and I remember feeling a strong urgency to move back to the US to rally for Obama and eventually see him get inaugurated.  I still remember driving back from west LA during rush hour to my hometown of Hacienda Heights to vote for him at our local polling place (Good Shepherds Church on Colima Rd).  I remember going into church with my grandma, who was also voting for Obama (simply on the rationale that he reminded her of our grandpa) and being filled with an almost naive sense of pride and patriotism.  As his campaign so effectively branded him, Obama embodied hope to its fullest extent.

Aside from being the relatable, congenial person that he is, Obama’s presidency stood for something bigger than himself. Like Larry Wilmore said in his “roast” during the WHCD:  “I always joked that I voted for the president because he’s black. People would say, ‘Do you agree with his policies?’ I’d say, ‘I agree with the policy that he’s black. As long as he keeps being black, I’m good… But behind that joke is a humble appreciation for the historical implications for what your presidency means. When I was a kid, I lived in a country where people wouldn’t accept a black quarterback. Now think about that, a black man was thought by his mere color, not good enough to lead a football team. And now, to live in your time, Mr. President, when a black man can lead the entire free world. Words alone do me no justice.'”

Oh how I’ll miss you, dear president.