Stories of the
Inauguration
The
Inauguration of any President is an exciting time to be in
Washington DC, but to be here for the first moment of the Obama
Presidency, the first African-American, is something else. Almost
two million souls, myself included, braved the cold and joined the
throngs that crowded buses and trains to surge on to the Mall in
such numbers that the officials were totally overwhelmed.
Washington DC knows something about how to handle crowds, but not
this day. It was an unprecedented beginning, full of great
expectations and subtler surprises.
Beginnings are a narrative hot zone; it’s where there is a
special drama and energy. As any novelist knows, that first
paragraph or even that first chapter sets up the co-ordinates of the
story about to unfold. So what story have we just entered?
Judging by the sentiments of the crowd on the Mall, a new hope is
at large in the land. The fact that such an election could ever
happen in a country still not totally at peace with its racial past
was a compelling sign of a new possibility, a fresh start. Even the
foreign press discerned the mood. A well known London journal wrote
in its editorial:
'They have willed into existence a reborn
nation, closer to their own likeness, their idea of themselves. That
energy was manifest on the streets despite the bitter cold and
despite the even chillier winds of an economic recession that is
biting into the very bones of the American economy. The question to
which the world waits to hear an answer is how the unleashed energy
of its citizens and their desire to be of service to their country
will inspire under his leadership, the recovery that is so
desperately needed.' "A Nation Reborn," The Tablet , January
24th 2009, p. 2.
I was on the Mall
standing in the shadow of the Washington monument, surrounded by an
enthusiastic crowd that included a young couple with their six year
old son
whom they were taking turns hoisting on to their shoulders. He had
little to say, but throughout the ceremony, Mom and Dad were
providing a running commentary. It was only when the lad reached out
to grab me, thinking that I was his Dad, that I realized that he was
blind. At first, I was amazed that his parents would have brought
him here to share a moment he could not see. “Now the Senators are
coming through the door, and now here comes the Vice President,”
they were saying, setting the scene,” and Wow! there's the new
President.” And all the while, Dad, like some Greek Chorus, was
echoing in his son’s ear this repeated chant, “Awesome, Noah, this
is awesome!”
As
I came out of the crowds to make my way home, I was struck by the
number of elderly people, some in wheelchairs and more on walkers
and canes, shuffling along Constitution Avenue. It was no day for
the frail and elderly to be out, but clearly they had to be
there. One thought of that biblical scene that described the elderly
prophets at the Temple in Jerusalem proclaiming that they could now
depart in peace because they had lived to see this day of promise.
As for the crowd control
and the officials who were charged with running the day, one can’t
say much because everywhere we went, they were nowhere. Outside the
Metro station at Judiciary Square in the early morning, a large sign read,
“Exit to Mall” and that is what thousands like me presumed, until
some dissatisfied patrons who had been in line since 5 a.m. were turned
away. Contrary to the sign, they told us, this was only entry to the
Parade Route. At the end of the day, around Union Station, most of
which seemed closed off for an Inaugural Ball, the melee of Metro,
Marc and Amtrak travelers all trying to get to the one entrance was a
crowd disaster waiting to happen, with one lone official
using a barely audible loudspeaker, telling people to go left, when
he meant, go right. His left was our right.
If the people we
encountered running the day are the same people running the country,
we are in big, big trouble. No one knew what was happening, or if
they did, no one thought it necessary to tell the crowds anything. Yet, if
these crowds are the people who are the country, the salt of its
earth, then, we are in amazing shape. Given the provocation of
crowds pushing or the panic of Obama supporters entitled with tickets but
denied entry, or interstate travelers anxiously waiting unsheltered
in the cold for the parade that was an hour late, and
then to battle more crowds on the path home, the sense of patience and solidarity
was palpable. Clearly they were not going to let anything or anyone
spoil their day, their historic day.
That was the miracle of
the Obama inauguration for me, not the speech, not the poem, and not
the prayers, but the simple good will and generous humor of the
people with whom I shared the day. That will be the enduring
memory. Later news broadcasts retold the story of a day where no one was
arrested, and no one was protesting. As I left, having lucked into
seeing the Presidential motorcade drive past at the start of the
parade, I kept replaying in my head the words of the father of that
little
blind boy, ”Awesome, Noah, Awesome!” He was right. You didn’t have to see it,
because you could feel it. And awesome it truly was!
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