As my wife saw itas most people would see it, I imaginean unwritten book was hardly a financial plan. In other words, she said, youve got some magic beans in your pocket. Thats what youre telling me. You have some magic beans, and youre going to plant them, and overnight a huge beanstalk is going to grow high into the sky, and youll climb up the beanstalk, kill the giant who lives in the clouds, and then bring home a goose that lays golden eggs. Is that it? Something like that, I said. Michelle shook her head and looked out the window. We both knew what I was asking for. Another disruption. Another gamble. Another step in the direction of something I wanted and she truly didnt. This is it, Barack, Michelle said. One last time. But dont expect me to do any campaigning. In fact, you shouldnt even count on my vote. AS A KID, I had sometimes watched as my salesman grandfather tried to sell life insurance policies over the phone, his face registering misery as he made cold calls in the evening from our tenth-floor apartment in a Honolulu high-rise. During the early months of 2003, I found myself thinking of him often as I sat at my desk in the sparsely furnished headquarters of my newly launched Senate campaign Barack Obama, A Promised Land

A Promised Land by Barack Obama