When my husband retired from the Foreign Service and the United Nations, we decided to visit our children, Jeffrey and Leslie, who were attending the University of Arizona in Tucson, Arizona. It didn’t take long before we fell in love with the area and its glorious sunsets, majestic mountains, strange looking cacti, but most of all, meeting the friendly people. This is where we wanted to spend our retirement years. An added bonus was having Mexico for our neighbor and a large Hispanic population, allowing us to speak Spanish every day.

After looking at more than thirty houses, we finally settled on a custom built home on Skyline Drive. I loved my new home, especially happy knowing that I could spend as much time as I needed in decorating it exactly the way I wanted – a luxury I had never experienced. For the previous twenty-five years, I knew that no matter how much I loved my house and the country I lived in, that two years later we would be moving to another country, and possibly even to another continent.

When I felt that everything was perfect, I decided to take the car and drive around the neighborhood to get acquainted with the side streets. I was driving down this narrow street, somewhere between Skyline Drive and River Road, listening to Ray Charles singing, “I can’t stop loving you.”

Suddenly, I heard a police siren and when I looked in the rear view mirror I saw a motorcycle policeman motioning for me to pull over.

This very handsome officer, who stood about six feet tall with disarming, pale blue eyes, poked his head in the car window. “Lady, do you know you are driving down a one way street going the wrong way? May I please see your driver’s license?”

I looked up at him with a very surprised look and said, “Wo bu dung Mei Kwo hwa, dwei bu chi” (meaning “I don’t speak American, I am so sorry”). He repeated what he said, and I repeated my answer. He scratched his chin, and with a suspicious look on his face he grinned before saying, “Lady, you can go. Just don’t do it again!”

I waited until he left and then decided to go home before I got into more trouble. That was the only time I’ve ever spoken to a policeman. I did not feel guilty, knowing that I did not commit a serious crime, but if I ever have to talk to a policeman again, I hope he will be as handsome and as kind as the one that first stopped me.

It was very exhausting watching the elections for so many months. I’m glad it’s finally over and even happier with the results.

My husband, Richard, was a Foreign Service Officer with the Department of State for over twenty years, and we served in thirteen countries on five continents. We were always proud to represent America. Our job was to make friends with the local people and introduce them to all that was good about our democracy, our culture, and our people.

During the last eight years we seem to have lost our way. We were not that interested in talking to anyone, other than our friends and allies. We did very little to engage diplomatically with other countries. Our efforts were, for the most part, too little, too late, or nothing at all. We put into place a policy that said, in effect, “our way, or the highway.”

Finally the elections are over and Barack Obama is our president-elect. He will not be our president until January, but I am already excited for America. The very fact that we elected such an intelligent and thoughtful BLACK man has already improved our image in the world. Once again it makes me very proud to be an American. Now, we will use diplomacy first, rather than force, to settle our world problems. We will listen and respect what others have to say.

This article of mine was first published at JustOneOpinion.com on December 14th, 2008.  Just One Opinion is a website that is edited and managed by my friend Richard Kelly and my webmaster, John Hoyle.  Be sure to check it out.