The Obama circle

The line, north of Liberty Memorial, snakes its way past Union Station.

It's almost come full circle. Really.

It was Feb. 5th, a Tuesday night. We braved the winter's cold as we waited outside the Asbury Methodist Church at 75th and Nall in Prairie Village, a Kansas City suburb in Kansas. The Democratic Caucuses were under way, and the vast line of those waiting to vote circled the brick church.

It was a surreal moment -- this many Democrats lining up for a primary that, in past years, had turned into a joke in this predominantly red state. In fact, that night the line was lengthened by independents and even Republicans who felt the call of the caucus.

The roughly four thousand, stomping their feet, blowing on their hands, were abuzz. "Obama!" There were a few murmurs of "Hillary" now and then. But mainly "Obama!"

Now it's come to this: Last night a second line, vastly larger, snaked around the massive circumference of the Liberty Memorial grounds in downtown Kansas City, where Obama would soon speak. More than 70,000 slowly made the circle, past T-shirt vendors, Fred Phelps hate-mongers, a smattering of conservative dissidents and one musical zealot with a ukelele and a misspelled (I feel) "judgement" on his "Judgment Day" sign.

"Obama!"

I asked Cindy: "When was the last time a single person pulled this kind of crowd in Kansas City?"

We couldn't find an answer. John Kerry drew only 20,000, we knew.

But as security helicopters buzzed above, as SWAT team members peered down from tall buildings, and special black-gloved federal police kept the line corralled, it was clear the ascendancy of Barack Obama was now a reality.

You go to these kinds of events because they're historic, not necessarily for the message. We've heard the message over and over again. In fact, we wouldn't be there had it not been for the message, which started back well ahead of Feb. 5th. (My guess is, if given the chance, the crowd could have finished a few of Barack's lines for him.)

No, you go because he's the first black man likely to be president. You go because, whether you're completely sold on his policies, it seems -- at last -- that the country and even the world are excited about a leader again. You go because you want to be part of it, to show your solidarity.

We heard Barack's speech from a distance ... the turnout was so large, so deep, and flowing over the undulating grounds of Liberty Memorial, that we couldn't see much beyond the crowd except the brightly lit spectator stands towering over the podium.

It was a good speech, with a few good jokes for the locals. And then it was over.

As the crowd parted, we started to head to the car. But then I noticed a wall of folks to the east, not budging an inch. They were three and four deep, hard against a crowd-control fence. About 50 feet beyond was the road upon which Obama's motorcade would make its exit.

It was a chance to actually see the man. We joined the line.

As we waited, I thought about when I was a journalism student at the University of Illinois covering politics for The Daily Illini. I was assigned that day to catch some crowd reaction to a visit by President Gerald Ford to Champaign, Ill.

So I joined the people along his motorcade route. Being the ever-objective journalist, I strongly vowed not to get excited when Jerry drove by -- no yells, waves or anything. I was there to observe, not participate. Soon Ford's long line of black limos appeared, police cars flashing in the lead.

"There he is!" shouted the woman next to me.

And there he was, in the window, looking straight at me with a big smile. And waving.

I waved back.

Last night I was free to wave. So when Obama's entourage rolled by, and cameras flashed in the night, I reached for the sky, both arms. And yelled. I couldn't even see him through the opaque windows. But I waved anyway.

I'm trusting -- really trusting -- that he waved back.