As High as a Kite in DC

 

You've heard of AirForce One, this is Kite One

January 20, 2009 (The unexpurgated version)

From Lela:

I’m not sure anyone really slept last night.  There were people in every bed in the house, on couches, and on the floor.  All of us were anxious, impatient, and ready to just get up and let the day begin.  By 7 we were out the door after downing bowls of Grapenuts, and very, little, small cups of tea, coffee or juice, in deference to the expected long lines at the Port ‘o Potties. The digestive logistics of this challenge had been the subject of a pretty funny and graphic after supper discussion the night before, and I began to notice that when anticipating huge crowds like this, this particular reality is probably the most common focus for speculation, advance planning, and  tasteless jokes. And as the day evolved, I realized that it would be a recurring theme in the collective “I was there” narrative. 

 

As most of us in our group were from the PNW, we were expertly layered and ready for anything, even the 19-degree weather outside.  The streets were already crowded, but no one seemed to be in much of a hurry.   Lots of furs:  hats, gloves, capes, coats, stoles, and footwear made out of every reptile substantial enough to be turned into a boot.  Everyone was in great spirits, and as the day unfolded  — and this experience was shared with everyone I spoke to no matter where they were on the Mall–– it became really clear that we all saw the crowds and the lines as part of the adventure, part of the excitement, and as a central component in each of our stories.

 

 Since we were staying just two blocks from the Supreme Court Building in a late 19^th Century town house, which our host claimed had,  “the 3 closest toilets to the Capitol” our walk to the mall was very short and easy.   My press pass for the Leader put me in the Orange Section line, which was gently coiling around the park to the south of the Rayburn House Office Building, while the others – who had received passes from Congressman Norm Dicks and Senator Jon Tester of Montana  — took off down Independence Avenue to join the Silver Section line, putting them behind the Reflecting Pool in the SRO section.

 

I only gloated for a little bit that my pass got me an actual chair in the Orange Section. It was so cold I soon was to discover that having chair meant having a frozen bum as well, and little chance to take advantage of the warmth of the crowd.

 

Two young people in line next to me were both from NYC.  The young woman spent most of the time on her cell phone trying to reconnect with her friend who had gone off to find a Port o Potty.  In the over two hours that we were in line, they never reconnected.  The young woman shook her head sadly and said, “Damn, I told her not to have that second cup of coffee!” 

 

When I asked the young man what he did for a living, he said he had just been laid of as an IT trainer on Wall Street.  When I expressed my condolences he shrugged it off and said that Lehman Brothers was close to his office, and watching that fall apart was much harder than losing his job.  His comment underscored to me that in this economy, people are losing more than jobs when these big institutions fail.  They are losing significant parts of their communities as well. 

 

After only a bit over an hour, the line started moving. I’d begun to wonder when we would start singing, dancing, chanting “Obama! Obama!” or “Yes we can!” I’d expected more of a celebratory atmosphere: some protest songs, a few spirituals, some Bob Dylan. 

 

But, as we moved past security and into the Orange section, I began to notice how beautifully dressed most people around me were.  Most of them were black, and they were dressed for church.  Elegant.  In their finest clothes.  It dawned on me that this was not a party.  We were here as witnesses.  I also began to realize that as a white woman I really couldn’t begin to understand what this event meant to the aging couple behind me from Chicago, or to the group of families with little kids and grandparents – one with a walker!  — who’d ridden non-stop on a bus from Georgia to be here.  For THIS day.

 

Once I found a seat with a view of the podium and one of the giant screens, I began to chat with people around me. A few rows ahead of me was a Swinomish woman with a beautiful Coast Salish cedar hat and I took her photo for her local paper.  It was the last one I took.  My camera froze and I put it under my armpit to warm it up.  Many people around me tried the same thing with their cameras.  When that didn’t work, we resorted to cell phones. 

 

I struck up a conversation with Natasha, a young, Russian born, Israeli journalist who had been in the US since August to cover the election. We talked about what was happening in Gaza and she was very supportive of the Palestinians, but almost resigned to the fact that 100’s of years of hatred couldn’t be negotiated to a peaceful settlement.  “It just might have to play itself out for a few hundred more years.”

 

She asked me if I thought we were naive about how much President Obama could do, given the condition of our economy and the state of the world.  I said I thought we knew it would take all of us to be vigilant, work hard, be patient, and creative, and what we really needed was for him to be a leader: to stand with us and trust us with the truth. I couldn’t tell if she believed me. 

 

When I asked her what had impressed her the most during her time here she said it was a KKK rally she’d attended in Tennessee.  She was appalled that such an event could even happen in a public place.  I explained that free speech was a fundamental right: the first Amendment to the Constitution. That it’s also problematic, and scary because it tolerates pornography, homophobia, racism, sexism, but that we have this saying:  “I don’t agree with what you’re saying, but I’ll defend your right to say it with my life.”    She looked me and said, “That’s just too dangerous, crazy.  In Israel it would never be allowed.”

 

At that moment, it really hit me: in some ways, this is what this Inauguration especially, but any Inauguration, really, was all about.  I realized that for many people in the rest of the world, it must seem incredibly risky to even have a Bill of Rights, and to hold the liberty of individuals so highly; and that our fierce support of this improbable, flawed, experiment in democracy we call the United States of America really might look irresponsible, even dangerous, to an outside observer.

 

As the ceremony began, the crowd in the Orange Section was hushed.  When President Bush came onto the platform, heralded by “Hail to the Chief” a group of teenagers a few rows ahead of me failed to stand up.  All around them people softly chided them:  “You always stand up for the President! Even this one.”  They stood.

 

Minutes later as President Obama gave his Inauguration speech, he pointed out that 60 years ago his father probably wouldn’t have been served at most restaurants in DC.  And I wanted to say to Natasha that exactly was why we protect free speech.  Without that right, Susan B. Anthony, Martin Luther King, Caesar Chavez and so many others would have been easily silenced, and we wouldn’t be gathering in the millions to witness this moment together.  She had moved on in the crowd.

 

On my way home, I passed in front of the Supreme Court Building.  There were a few security guards keeping people below the first tier of steps and as I eased along the thinning crowd I saw a tall, elegant figure, in a camel coat, half way up the steps.  It was Garrison Keeler. One of the things I love most about his Lake Wobegon stories is a bedrock, common sense of justice, which offers redemption to anyone with a good heart, no matter how foolish, no matter how thoughtless, shortsighted, or inept.   I’ve often thought that if he wasn’t nurturing the heart and soul of America with his storytelling, a good alternative career would have been serving on the Supreme Court where he could have nurtured justice. My camera was still frozen, and even my cell phone seemed to have given out, so I’ll just have to hold that picture of him in memory, standing tall, with the Supreme Court rising behind him.

 

I moved on, thinking what lovely stories he would tell about this day.  What stories we would all have to tell.  And thinking that what we’re really about in this country is a story that is constantly unfolding, awkward, flawed, raw, promising. I thought of my Clemente students, who in US History class that night were going to discuss how to interpret history.  I thought of all the little kids watching this with grandparents who had marched and perhaps even been beaten and jailed for this moment, and I imagined that it would be awhile before those kids understood why the people around them were crying.  And I thought of the stately black gentleman who hugged me after President Obama took his oath and said,  “OK, now it’s time for all of us to get to work!”   Yes it is. Yes, we will!

 

 

 

 

I’ve seen a lot of faces in the last few days, including these three faces of Our Capitol (double click on any one of the images to make bigger)

Our Capitol

Our Capitol at Work

Our Capitol Partying

1.19.09

What I hear and have seen:  an unbelievable sense of comraderie, hopefullness, playfullness.   Lots of families and kids.  LITTLE kids.  Everyone smiling, no one in a hurry.  Today on the mall they replayed yesterday’s concert and folks were still dancing and singing… “Bye Bye Miss American Pie.”  

One observation I have is that in a very poignant  way, it is similar to after 9.11.   I was here that sad, sad, day, and while I was stuck for 4 days, the city came together then in a lovely, compassionate way.  I remember no-one passing me on the street or riding in an elevator, without us making eye contact, checking in, asking in gestures if not always in words, “Are you OK?”  

Of course today we are all full of hope, not fear, but the clear desire to share these profound human experiences is much the same. As we pass each other, dance side by  side, wait at the Honey Buckets — and there are a LOT of them — we greet each other, as if this were just a small neighborhood block party, and in acknowledgement that no matter who we are or where we’re from, we share this moment.  

Jake and I were on the mall today and there was a lone kite soaring to the North of the Washington Monument. It had a picture of Obama flying over a long, elegant tail on which were written the words: “Out of many, one.”  I think that sums it up for all of us here. 

This is an observation from our host’s brother in law who is a passionate Obama fan:  

For many years I brought my 3 grandchildren to WA, DC,  each by each, once they attained the age of 8.  During that time I was hoping that my government would do better and they didn’t.  I am a lifelong Republican by the way.  Today I have the hope that our government will do better and our Democracy will survive.  

Dr.Stewart McCollon, 80, Retired College President, Clatsop CC, and Southern Oregon College, former County Commissioner from Jackson County OR. 

More tomorrow!

 

Lela

GOBAMA!

 

Jake, Lela, Nat, Linda and Stacy

Hi all — This blog is an attempt for the folks from Pt. Townsend, Chimacum, WA and Kalispell, MT to keep a record of our journey to Washington, DC for Barack Obama’s Inauguration, January 20, 2009.  Looking forward to the adventure!

 

 

Lela, Jake, Nat, Mary, Stacy, Mark, & Linda