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Saturday, April 4th, 2009
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8:36a - Inauguration Part III: The Ceremony and the Celebration
Finally, after an eternity of waiting (6 hours), the actual Inaugural program began. We were close enough that we could tell there were people on the steps of the Capital. In fact, we could see the red sweaters of the children in the chorus. We could see even more through our binoculars – okay, we could see slightly larger people-shaped things. We were close enough to definitively feel that “we are here, part of this historic event!” and not just watching it on TV in a very cold living room. But in terms of seeing anything useful – not so much. Needless to say, we had to watch most of it on the Jumbotron.
It started with the Prelude by the Marine Band, which sounded like pretty much every Marine Band song I've ever heard. The songs by the San Francisco Boys and Girls' Choruses were nice though. Senator Dianne Feinstein opened the program with an introduction that served its purpose, but was unmemorable. Rev. Rick Warren then gave the Invocation, which was both theologically and socially/politically awkward. By choosing the pastor of Saddleback Church, which is a conservative, evangelical mega-church that is anti-gay marriage, some liberals, especially gay/lesbian activists complained that Barack Obama betrayed them. (I know Brent was really pissed.) Listening to Warren's speech, I could tell that he was trying so hard to be inclusive, while also mentioning Jesus as many times as possible. I've been in enough evangelical churches to know that any occasion for a major speech in front of “non-believers” – including weddings, funerals, any family gatherings whatsoever – require preaching about Jesus and an altar call if you can fit it in. So you could see he was fighting the urge to describe the Four Spiritual Laws (an overly-simplistic summary of the Gospel taught by Campus Crusade) or the “Bridge Metaphor.” On the other hand, he wanted to show the general public that evangelicals weren't scary or prejudiced or narrow-minded. So he used a lot of “inclusive” language (“God loves everyone” and “Let's love one another”), all of which was true, but not very moving. And then once in a while, something extremely evangelical-Christian slipped through. Like saying the Lord's prayer at the end, which in words alone can apply to Judaism, but which is obviously so, very very Christian. Overall, it just made for a mildly lame, weird, mostly inoffensive but ineffective sermon.
But then – the performance that followed made everyone forget Rick Warren's boring-as-hellness. Aretha. Aretha Franklin. Absolutely fantastic. You could tell that she was so thrilled and passionate to be singing at the first black President's inauguration. She had this crazy, wonderful hat on, with this gigantic, bejeweled bow. As the rest of her outfit was plain gray, it highlighted her awesome presence. She sang “My Country Tis of Thee” with such joy, warmth, and enthusiasm you could feel it in every word, every chord. Then, the Vice Presidential Oath of Office, which was pretty much uneventful. Joe Biden is Joe Biden, and as long as he doesn't say anything, it's going to be uneventful.
The next musical selection consisted of the Greatest Chamber Orchestra of All Time – Yo-Yo Ma (oooh), Itzhak Perlman (oooh), Gabriela Montero (who? well, I'm sure he's good) and Anthony McGill (ditto). They played a lovely, lovely version of the classic Shaker tune Simple Gifts. It was brilliant because it had so many levels while being so simple at the same time. For one, the wonderful lyrical theme of the song ('Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free, / 'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be ....) was perfect for the occasion. For what is more American than the appreciation for freedom? On the other hand, the song is incredibly easy – it's the first song you learn in seventh grade band. But they turned it into this beautiful, complex song with lots of layers, without losing that ideal simplicity. It was disappointing to find out they weren't actually playing that day – just playing to a recording – but it was lovely nonetheless.
Then, there was what we were all waiting for - the Presidential Oath of Office. The time that would mark a new era in politics, or at least a new era in American history, depending on your political leanings. (Even if you think Obama is just another politician, I don't think anyone can say that the first African-American American president being sworn in is not a Big Deal.) With baited breath, we waited and watched. We felt proud for being an American, here at this moment and waved our flags enthusiastically. We cheered, happy to know that our country had reached a major milestone. But at the end, we tilted our head sideways and thought, "What just happened? They botched it up!" How do you botch up the Presidential Oath of Office? Honestly, I don't think it's entirely Justice Roberts' fault. At first, I really thought it was all now-President Obama's fault, in fact. But I know I would have been confused as well if I had memorized it one way and someone else said it a different way right before me. It wasn't a big deal in the end, but it was kind of ridiculous in its level of importance and silliness of mistake.
The inaugural address was next, which I was looking forward to. I found so many of President Obama's previous speeches to be inspiring and memorable, and hoped this would be the same. Overall, I liked it very, very much. I wouldn't say it was the most inspiring or the eloquent speech ever, but it was both of those things in a measure that was appropriate and right. I know conservative commentators thought there weren't any particularly memorable phrases ("Do not ask what your country can do for you...") but I thought there were a few, and I wasn't sure that was what we needed as a people right then. What we needed was a speech that was inspiring and honest, and I think it was both of those things. At least, he rivteed me with his speech. Almost everything - even my cold feet - seemed to matter a lot less now that he was finally speaking.
From the very beginning, I liked that President Obama said was that he was humbled to be there. Although Obama doesn't always seem humble, he always seems grateful that people put trust in him, which Bush never did. And I don't know if it is an inaugural tradition or not, but thanking Bush for his service to the country was classy. Most of all, I like how Obama emphasized over and over how it's the spirit of the American people that drive the greatness of this country. Throughout Bush's administration, it seemed like the people were ignored or put-down by both parties. I think so many people liked and believed in Obama because of his trust in the American citizens to work hard and do the right thing. People like being respected and appreciated. And they like a leader who asks responsibility of them, which has always been a stumbling block for liberals. I thought this sentence summarized both of these ideas well: "At these moments, America has carried on not simply because of the skill or vision of those in high office, but because We the People have remained faithful to the ideals of our forbearers, and true to our founding documents. So it has been. So it must be with this generation of Americans." I also liked that he told it like it is - that things are tough and they are only going to get tougher. (And as we've seen, it was a accurate assessment.) But despite the doom and gloom, he still managed to maintain a tone of hope. I particularly liked how he dually expressed confidence in our ability as a country to get through the toughest times, but also the cold reality that we can only it by all of us doing better than we have recently. I also liked these lines: "Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America. For everywhere we look, there is work to be done." Indeed, there is. Also, he did something that few politicians can do without sounding contrived - he acknowledged and celebrated our diversity and the strength that we draw from it. He mentioned the immigrants from Europe and the slaves alike who came to America, and even managed to talk about religion without forgetting atheists.
In terms of specific subjects mentioned, I certainly cheered loudly when he said "we will restore science to its rightful place," to expand alternative fuels and energy, and tackle climate change. But I also liked that he touched on the need for stronger regulations in banking, the importance of civil rights even in times of conflict (or as I said to Papa Shea, "I don't want my country's policy to be based on fear!"), and the necessity of building better relationships with countries around the world. These issues are all near and dear to my heart, as they all relate to some area I am passionate about, whether social justice, the First Amendment, or peace. In terms of the latter subject, this was a great line: "Our security emanates from the justness of our cause; the force of our example; the tempering qualities of humility and restraint."
Lastly, I liked how he tied our current "winter" to the original winter crisis in our country's founding - Valley Forge. Often, it's good to remember what has come before us, so we can move ahead. I think Obama knows that too - and not just in speechwriting - and I'm glad that he's willing to learn from the past. I think that willingness to learn is the hallmark of a great leader.
And then it was over. Only not really. You see, the ceremony was still going on, but the important part - the Presidential part - was over. So everyone started leaving the Mall en masse. I tried to convince Mama Shea and Melissa to stick around for just a few more minutes, to listen to Elizabeth Alexander recite her poem. Listening to the poem, I liked it. I liked the imagery, the focus on the common people that Obama spoke about, the hard work of those in the past inspiring us now. It was a poem of hope, a hope held in many people's hearts that early afternoon. As she said: "In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air, / any thing can be made, any sentence begun. / On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp, / praise song for walking forward in that light." Praise, indeed. Unfortunately, she wasn't the best person to deliver it. Many poets seem to have this problem, which is ironic, because poetry is written to be read aloud. But although she wasn't the most engaging, I enjoyed it anyway, allowing the words to wash over me without comprehending (or really hearing) all of them.
The last thing we heard was the benediction, which I heard after-the-fact was far better than Warren's speech. Unfortunately, everyone, including myself, had abandoned any thought of standing one second longer out in the cold and were in the process of leaving the Mall. I heard snippets of it, but it just seemed to go on and on, as disconnected words. Anything that could possibly be standing between me and warmth was clearly not important any more. Instead, we scrambled up walls, hustled along the sidewalk, and even trampled through the Air and Space's garden. I stepped on a tree and walked over a bush. I felt really bad, but there were a very limited number of exits. The whole thing was planned so poorly, that I didn't feel too, too guilty for my minor squishing of public property.
We finally got inside the Air and Space Museum, and somewhere along the way, I lost track of Mama Shea and Melissa. They got swallowed up into the crowd ahead of me. However, I knew we were all meeting at the McDonalds there, and headed in that direction. As the place was absolutely packed, it was unsurprising that I couldn't find them. So I sat outside the restaurant, looking for Chris. In the meantime, I went through the awkward process of checking to see how my feet were doing without being gross about it. Because when my feet get cold, they go beyond just getting cold. They get cold, and then they turn white and go numb. It's not frostbite, but it's a definite lack of bloodflow. Because of the frigid temperatures and the endless standing around, I was quite worried. I had prepared that morning with lots of layers and footwarmers, but my feet still felt rather lifeless. Thankfully, in taking my shoes and socks as unobtrusively as possible, I found that my feet were only a little white and still had some feeling in them. It was quite a relief.
Eventually, after calling Chris about 15 times and wandering around the extremely crowded McDonalds, we all found each other. I found Mama Shea first, then Melissa returned, and then Chris finally showed up. He said he barely made it in before they closed the museum. Bizarrely, although she stood in line and ordered from the counter, Mama Shea only bought 2 sodas and no food. Chris's response, delivered in a sad, disappointed voice was, "That's it?" Mama Shea replied, "But I have sandwiches in my pouch!" But as the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches had been in her jacket pocket for many hours, and were both squished and cold, they weren't exactly appealing. On the other hand, none of us were willing to get back in line. So I drank some water, Chris mooched soda, and we all warmed up to the point where the thought of going back outside wasn't completely horrifying.
We walked back, the same way we came. We were slightly less lost this time, rather colder, and definitely more tired. It was like finishing a athletic event or the end of a grand party you organized. There was exhaustion and a bit of relief it was over, but a remaining sense of buoyancy, of light and lingering excitement.
Besides, the day wasn't entirely over for us – we still had a party to go to! I had bought tickets to the party thrown by DC for Obama, the group that organized the canvassing. Unfortunately, unlike the post-election party, I didn't know if anyone I knew was going to be there. (As it turned out, there wasn't.) All of our poker people were going to the Lawyers for Obama party at a different bar down the street. But $30 a person for unlimited drinks sounded pretty reasonable, especially considering that tickets for some of the balls were hundreds of dollars. I would have loved to go to the DC Neighborhood Ball - one of the official ones that Obama was guaranteed to make an appearance, with tickets for only $25! – but it was only open to DC residents.
Once we arrived home, we sat around for a while, and then got dressed in our party best. I wore the dress from my wedding rehearsal dinner, an Asian-style fitted black and white number. I was concerned that it no longer fit, but Chris reassured me that it actually did look good. I don't ever completely believe him, but I was convinced enough to go ahead with wearing it.
Although a bit bundled up in coats and scarves, the walk from home to the Metro and from the Metro to the bar was really cold. I never did understand how girls in college wore tiny little skirts and low-cut shirts in the Ithaca winter. It was a relief to reach the bar, which although not warm, was a vast improvement. We had been to the same bar for the post-election party, and it was a pretty classy place. Lots of leather couches and blue-colored lights - the sort of place that just feels “cool.” On top of that, this time we were in the “VIP” section upstairs. However, we soon found out that it wasn't all that much more exciting. All it meant was that we had unlimited booze and even that was only basic liquor rail drinks. Which meant that I couldn't have my trademark drink – orange juice and Malibu rum. They only had regular rum, which has the twice the alcohol and twice the alcohol-flavor. Alas. So I ordered an orange juice and rum, and went back to the couch on the edge of the room that we had staked out. As we got there shortly after the party started, it was really quiet for the first hour or so. We sat around, talked about the inauguration and other things, drank, and ate. One of the advantages of coming early is that when they come around with hand-passed hors d'oeuvres, you get first dibs. We ate a lot of finger food, most of it surprisingly good. Eventually, the party did pick up, and soon the dance floor was crowded. As both Chris and I love to dance, we soon joined them. We danced to Spanish songs about Obama (da da da, Obama!), we danced to hip-hop songs about Obama (boom, boom, boom, Obama!), we danced to just plain old rock. Mama Shea and Melissa joined us on the floor at various times, all of us switching off so at least one person was protecting the purses on the couch. I find dancing in heels exhausting, but it didn't matter – we were dancing! We were dancing and we were having fun and it was a wonderful day and a wonderful night.
But eventually, the magic wore off and we were back to being tired and sore and cold. And the rum combined with the orange juice was making me rather nauseous. The party was dying down anyway, and I had to go to work the next morning. I would have taken the next day off, like Chris, but I had required training for my program that I had signed up for months in advance. (Although I couldn't complain too much, because both Martin Luther King Day and Inauguration Day were national holidays, so I got them off for free.) We sighed, gathered up our things, and headed back out into the cold night. We had originally contemplated stopping at Ben's Chili Bowl, a legendary DC landmark that Obama had eaten at earlier in the month, but ditched that idea soon enough. It was late, and definitively time to go home. Once there, I stripped off my clothing, put on my pajamas and collapsed into bed. It had been a long day.
To quote Melissa: “It was wonderful, but I would never, ever do it again.” I don't think I was quite as miserable as her, but it certainly was a very intense experience. But needless to say, I was very glad I did it. There was something uplifting and quite honestly, historical, about being there. And having our level of dedication and determination just involved us all the more, made us feel that we participated in something grand. That we didn't just watch but that we were truly Part of Something Big. Because we were. Never again was the nation going to experience this first. It transcended politics. And that's why I was glad I was there. Yes, I supported Obama because I agreed with his policies. I was certainly glad he won, and believed – and still believed – that it was a significant change for the better for the United States. But here, this occasion, the United States proved that racism may not be fully overcome, but that we could look past the color of someone's skin enough to judge them on their ideas, their words, and their actions and in that examination, see a President. And that, more than anything else that I have ever experienced, made me proud to be an American.
current mood: happy (comment on this)
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