I just returned from a quick non-inauguration related trip to
On our last day in the city, my travel mate and I stood before the inauguration podium, walked the streets lined with bleachers where millions are anticipated to converge on January 20th, and peeked through the gate at the White House. We posed in front of Blair House, where the Obamas took up residence during our stay (or rather diagonally to it, as the street was naturally closed off), a follow up to our photo in front of the Hay-Adams Hotel where the First Family Elect were relegated for a couple weeks due to one last, lame power play by Bush. And we poked through the mostly-made-in-China inauguration paraphernalia at a shop near the White House. It was here that my emotions really ran amok, and I had to choke back tears as I pawed through the pins and stickers and t-shirts.
I’m sure it had something to do with the rough night I had before, thanks to a toxic combination of Ethiopian food and gimlets (okay, wine too), and a waxing head and chest cold. But that wasn’t it – see nothing else was choking me up. Not the homeless people, the mentally ill woman who accused my friend and me of being go-go dancers, the potentially confrontational scene between DC police and some young shoplifters in the Filene’s Basement entryway, or even the gut wrenching photo of a napalm survivor at the Richard Avedon exhibit. My hormones were tuned to respond to the historic occasion approaching, and nothing else.
But as I contemplated the unexpected intensity of my emotions, I realized it was not just the historic nature of the event that was making me feel so raw. It was fear, mixed with desire. Desperation is probably more apt. I was struck with the realization that I am expecting too much, and need to ratchet my hopes down – but just a notch. I do believe good things will start happening, and quickly. We’ve had brilliant policy makers in the White House, corporate puppets, ideologues, philanderers, and buffoons - often a combination of these at any given time. I’ve never had the word “integrity” bubble up when I think of a president, until now. It’s the golden ticket, Charlie! But it’s the golden ticket in the hands of a mere human, in a terribly flawed and corrupt system – fortunately one he has not been tumbling around in as long as most.
So what’s a patriot to do? Well, this one is going to pay attention, stay engaged, and make my voice heard. And yes, I’m going to keep up the hope. It can’t hurt.
