10:52 a.m.
I’m at our table in Carolines with my wife Dee (aka Girl w/Pen) and a happy, mimosa-fueled crowd of feminist confreres watching as the bi-Presidential caravan heads out from the White House. (This is unfortunately taking the form of an after-the-fact dispatch, since I don’t have Internet access here).
We’re here at the invitation of The White House Project (“a non-partisan organization committed to enhancing public perceptions of women leaders and advancing a richly diverse, critical mass of women into leadership positions.” Although Lizz Winstead, co-creator of The Daily Show, declared herself pointedly partisan during her opening monologue. Her comment on the news that Cheney will be in a wheelchair for the inauguration: “Cheney supposedly hurt himself while moving. I guess he did let the doorknob hit him in the ass on the way out.”)
Lizz Winstead, co-creator of The Daily Show
11:08 a.m.
Talk at the table: Who is acting President in the ten minutes between the swearings in of Biden and Obama? Seriously, ten minutes is a long time. A lot can happen. Why aren’t they simultaneous?
My babe, Girl w/Pen
11:19 a.m.
The Carters are announced. The brand strikes up some rousing Sousa (what’s happening to me? Wearing a flag pin, tearing up to Sousa… must be middle age.)
11:22 a.m.
The Clintons are announced. The Carolines crowd goes wild. Conversation around the table: the symbolism of yellow (gold?) and purple, the vestiges of royal ritual. Everyone on the podium seems to be wearing a jot of one color of the other. Hillary particularly striking in her purple coat.
11:24 a.m.
Sasha and Malia, appear, all smiles and regal pace. Carolines erupts again. Whoops at the sight of the Queen of Soul Aretha Franklin. Regal presence.
11:31 a.m.
Cheers and gasps for Michelle resplendent in glittering yellow. Boos and hissing for Dubya as he ambles along on his perp walk. I can’t help thinking he looks alone. Interesting that the First Lady doesn’t accompany the outgoing President.
11:39 a.m.
Obama appears on the flatscreen. Cheers, applause, a scattering of Carolines attendees rising to their feet. Comments at table: the office has already aged him, and he hasn’t even been sworn in. But he looks filled with the moment, calm and accepting.
11:44 a.m.
President-Elect Barack H. Obama is announced. Thunder and cries. Closeups on the screen of black men and women in the crowd on the mall.
I feel the moment expanding.
No more time stamps.
The rest is a blur of fluid motion quickly setting as rock-solid history.
Hugs and involuntary shout outs during DiFi’s impassioned opening speech. Her words about the nonviolent roots of this triumphant moment are superimposed to dramatic effect over the visage of our outgoing President.
Boos and guffaws at the appearance of Reverend Rick Warren for the opening prayer. Loud comments throughout the prayer, hisses at its close.
Aretha blesses,caresses and weaves “My Country ‘tis of Thee” in vaults and spires over the mass of humanity carpeting the Mall. Not your white grandma’s Kate Smith.
Noon.
Obama becomes President of the United States by Constitutional decree, although he hasn’t yet taken the oath. The moment passes under the soothing and introspective tones of Yoyo Ma and Itzhak Perlman.
Yoyo Ma at the Moment. Grace.
The Girl w/Pen happy and proud
Boy w/Pin
A jumbotron in Times Square
Obama Generation
For posterity
My cold fingers, the Flag and the Square
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Comments
As many wise people have said for some time now, we have to move away from the Masculine Principle of war, aggression, and violence that has dominated this nation for decades, and change to the Feminine Principle of creating, nurturing, educating, healing, and hoping. In fact, if we don't, we doom ourselves and the planet!!
Mary, thanks for the welcome! I've been wanting to post again since the New Year but, alas, wrench was thrown in the works when I got laid off. Happily I'm freelancing, but my posting time is a little unpredictable. 'Salright— I'll manage.
Amy, it's interesting.... I found the event so much about focus and determination that the room didn't "get dusty" for me until I saw a shot of an elderly black woman watching the proceedings from a church somewhere in the South, I forget where.... and she was sobbing, her eyes streaming. It's the thought of the generations who've seen everything and expected nothing to change, really, in their lifetime. Their perspective is priceless.
Hyblaean, I was walking through Times Square after the crowds had gone. But many people straggled, almost unwilling to let the moment end, posing for snapshots with handheld flags in front of the jumbotrons with the images of the departing Bushes on the helicopter, getting interviewed by roving bands of local news reporters. And it was such a sunny day too.
Thanks, JaceyMack. I'm going to enjoy reading everyone else's version of the day for some time to come.