Over the weekend I went to an Obama nomination celebration in the Berkeley hills. A decent crowd showed up to revel in completing the first giant step in a historic, transformative campaign. During the toasts to Obama’s coming victory, I was very moved to hear a series of stories about people met during the campaign so far, who have been seized with the conviction that, as Obama frequently says in his speeches, “we are the ones we have been waiting for”.

My only regret on the day is that my parents aren’t around to see it. My mother and father were long-standing fighters for social justice and progressive politics on many levels: against fascism in the ’30s and ’40s, for workers’ rights, for civil rights, against the war in Vietnam from the earliest moments (standing vigil in front of the Winnetka post office – the local “symbol” of the federal government – every Saturday morning for years and years), against apartheid, and on and on.

It’s almost impossible to imagine how galvanized and emotional they would have been this week. November 4 is going to be even better, I’m confident.