Never have so many hoped for so much because of rollicking rhetoric and pulsating platitudes.  A tsunami of hope has plunged America into electoral euphoria.  In its path is the wreckage of critical thinking about what ails the US and what bold, revolutionary actions are needed.  Barry Obama has accomplished semantic alchemy, turning justified but grim distrust and outrage with government and politics into hallelujah hope.  But most hope never materializes and is a terrible predictor of reality.

When they married in 1948 my parents, like most of their generation, were New Deal Democrats. They were part of what would later be called "The Greatest Generation", coming of age during the Great Depression and tested by war. Having seen a world with great deprivation and danger, they had a near religious belief in the power of government to do great good. Their faith was well founded. They had seen first hand a government that had literally fed the starving, brought light into darkness, educated the ignorant, gave power to the powerless, and defeated unimaginable evil.

After a few years, the GI Bill allowed my parents to buy a small yet comfortable house in the suburbs and move from the crowded apartment in Brooklyn that they shared with my aunt and uncle. For my father, the son of immigrants, the opportunity to start a family and own his own home seemed nothing short of miraculous. This country and its government were nothing short of the embodiment of the shining city on the hill in my parents eyes.