F. Scott
Fitzgerald famously said ‘There are no second acts in American lives.’
As a
playwright, I wish this were true. Not
only because I find second acts the hardest to write, but because first acts are
so full of (for lack of a better word) hope.
Nothing needs to end in a first act, nothing needs to be
definitive. They can be full of
possibility and potential and the sweet, narrative candy that keeps us
interested.
But they’re
incomplete.
As an
audience, we need those second acts. We
need them because they satisfy us in that deep, primal kind of way. They bring with them the resonate weight of
human truth. Take Oedipus or Death of a Salesman, for example. Without those second acts, the stories, on a
subconscious level, feel false -- Oedipus is happily married to Mom, and Biff
is going to that meeting with Willy thinking everything is going to be just
fine. And while the optimist in me
always wishes they would end there, what makes them timeless pieces of
‘Literature’ or ‘Art’ is that they reflect life. The cold, karmic hammer of reality comes down
because it has to come down – not for
the sake of the plot, but because as human beings we expect it, we need it --
we know it to be true. Something within
us craves resolution. It’s scientific –
every action has a reaction, factors result in a balanced equation; it’s the
punchline to our jokes and why music makes us tap our feet.
And it’s
why we should re-elect President Obama.
What does
that have do with anything, you ask?
Hold on.
If you ask
me (and perhaps you didn’t), this whole American enterprise has grand tragedy
written all over it. Why? Because, if we’re honest, the ‘greatness’ of
this country, was built, like something from Sophocles or Shakespeare, on a
tragic, pervasive flaw – which is, of course, slavery. It haunts us to this day. It lies at the root of our domestic problems
and undercuts even the grandest ideas put forth by Washington, Jefferson, and
the rest. Because, really, America’s not
unlike ol’ Oedipus or Willy Loman – we harbor this terrible truth we can never talk
about because doing so would expose the fundamental lie that governs this
country: that all men are created equal.
Which is
why, four years ago today, something incredible happened.
In some deep, unknown way, America (the character, of course)
transcended its perceived limitations in that rare, amazing, Helen Keller kind
of way – the kind of way you’d never believe if it wasn’t true – by electing an
African-American man to the highest office in the land and put him up in a
white house built by black slaves. It
was a choice – dramaturgs, holler if
you hear me -- it was a choice to
progress and, in some way, atone for what our ancestors had done. That we could, at a crucial moment, make a
euphoric choice, instead of a tragic one --that we could somehow stop the
inertia of history, draw a line in the sand, and say ‘Now, we’re new.’
It was, in
the story of America, an act break.
But in the
story of the Obama Presidency, of course, it was just the beginning. It was, if you want to get technical about
it, the inciting incident. And I think
the conflating of those two stories – what Obama’s election meant for the
country and what it meant for the man himself – is why a lot of us have been
frustrated by the lack of change over the last four years. We were expecting a second act, when in
practicality, it was really just the first.
Are you
following? I hope so.
My point is
that the choice we make on Election Day isn’t for one man to have a job for the
next four years, it’s the choice to finally usher in that second act we’ve been
waiting for.
Because if
we think about the sad nature of our political system, a President’s first term
is only the preamble to the bold moves he (or she – Hillary 2016!) could enact
his a second. And if we think of the narrative
of President Obama -- from Hawaii to Harvard, from Chicago to the Presidency --
at every step of the way, he’s exhibited a profound political savvy, balancing between
opportunism and pragmatism, knowing all the while he’s had to satisfy the
expectations and prejudices of a fragile electorate (whoever it was at the time)
in order to get ahead. And I firmly believe
that an Obama second term is a chance for him to gloriously reclaim the mantle of
‘Change’ he championed so passionately as a candidate. And I know he can do it. Because without the fear of political
repercussions that a second Presidential term allows, I trust that he will have
the personal power and legislative know-how to institute the kind of widespread
systemic changes that America needs in order to thrive in the 21st
Century.
As
President Obama knows better than anyone, we are no longer a country of White
Christian men. And to succeed, to ‘win
the future’ (as that terrible phrase goes), we have to embrace the growing
diversity of our population and re-engage with the world as neighbors instead of bullies. We have to lay the groundwork for an epic American
second act in which we see a modern renaissance defined by diplomacy in global
affairs, progressive social policies, and a new New Deal that invests in
updating our creaky infrastructure while balancing our economy.
It’s more
than possible, but the time to make it happen is, and can only be, now.
If we
falter, the second act we need so desperately will escape us, and not only will
that make for one hell of a horrible story, but we’ll be headed down the same
ignorant, self-satisfied path that has felled every empire over the course of
human civilization – and the one, not to mention, that led to the mess we found
ourselves in four years ago. If Mitt
Romney is elected, we will admit to ourselves and to the world that we’re not
who we thought we were in 2008, and we’ll revert to taunting the looming
dangers of climate change, Islamic extremism, and economic disparity with our American
chauvinism. And that cycle can’t keep
repeating itself. We don’t have
time. Sooner or later, the paradigm will
shift, the egg will crack, and in a blaze of light or in blood on the streets,
we won’t recognize ourselves anymore.
America
deserves a second act. It’s about damn
time we turned and faced the fundamental problems that plague us. And we can – because of one man’s unique
place in our history – yes, we can.
(Sorry). But it takes looking
beyond our little window on the world. It
takes empathy and guts and patience.
Kind of like writing a play.
I’m sorry,
but F. Scott Fitzgerald was wrong. There
are second acts in American lives.
And the
biggest one begins on Tuesday. Go vote.
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