The morning after a historic event, riding on the subway to work, dead tired because I was up too late last night. On the subway, an African American woman heading for work, a T-shirt with “Brooklyn” written across it in white letters. Her young daughter sitting next to her, pig-tails, back-pack, all coordinated in pink. An expectant look. Not rich, not poor – I think. Mother quietly reading to daughter from the beginning pages of, “The Dreams of My Father, ” by Barrack Obama. That’s PRESIDENT Obama, to you.