Glib commentary on Aretha’s hat and John “not really a strict constructionist” Roberts aside, yesterday I enjoyed one last day of unbridled optimism. We’re certainly nowhere near a post-racial, post-war, post-financial disaster era, however, we are post-Bush. That alone made me exhale and exuberantly cheer the regime change.

I streamed hours of CNN Live, chocked up seeing Michelle (and Barack) Obama, smiled at Sasha’s exuberant thumbs up, winced at Rick Warren, laughed with Rev. Lowery, wished Mariah had chosen a song other than Hero, admired Jay-Z’s glasses and marveled that www.whitehouse.gov has a tumblr acct.

I also made a deliberate effort to harbor hope and high expectations of the Obama administration. I took my imaginary fruity smelling markers and unfurled my imaginary butcher paper and with my imaginary illustration skills conjured an imaginary world of just immigration reform, a living wage, racial justice and queer justice (not just marriage equality–although that’s important too), bigger stronger more effective labor unions, restorative justice, free health care, better public schools, no kill animal shelters, blue skies, clean water, affordable airfares that somehow leave no carbon footprint–you get the point.

Projecting hope and generating high expectations are familiar exercises from those “visioning” exercises that beleaguered non-profits conduct as part of those groan inducing 8 hr retreats that devolve into 14 hr events because you have to go process the dysfunction of the day over stiff drinks. I digress. Placing the Executive Branch of government in the same head space as that alternate social justice reality felt totally alien. Alien, but not an entirely laughable or impossible a mental exercise with Obama as POTUS*. It underscored my low expectations of elected officials, but reminded me that inching towards that imagined reality requires holding government accountable to our loftiest ideals.

In the coming days, I’ll both cheer and jeer the potus, but I’ll try to remember the imaginary world I conjured yesterday as we hold Obama –and ourselves–accountable to our “better angels.” When the Obama-ites gets too far out of line, I’ll just remind myself that at least there are no Bushes in the Oval Office.

*I think POTUS is a great acronym. Yes, because it sounds like a potty joke.

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