My Inauguration Memories

The following is a rough account of my observations during perhaps the most historic moment I’ll experience in my adult lifetime (Tommie Smith and John Carlos thrusting a “Black Power” salute at the 1968 Olympics has now been relegated to 2nd place):  the inauguration of a person whose heritage includes a country from the continent of Africa for the nation’s highest office.  For the next four years — and perhaps longer, whether re-elected or not — Barack Obama will represent the United States of America as its president.  Excerpts of our journey are as follows:

 

Saturday, January 17

 

9:30am:  Depart for Kansas City International Airport.  While pulling out of our garage, wife drives van into side of garage door, peeling a piece of side trim off of the house, and jamming the open sliding door of our van.  Already feeling conflicted about spending money on this kind of trip in a down economy; now I’m a bit freaked.  First order of business upon return:  fix van door.  Second:  investigate repair of garage door trim.  Third:  send wife to driving school.

 

11:55am:  Plane leaves for Philadelphia, via Milwaukee.  Looking forward to Midwest’s famous chocolate-chip cookies.  Half the plane is filled with Pittsburgh Steelers fans, apparently headed to the AFC championship game.  Kansas City Star columnist Joe Posnanski is on our plane, presumably headed for one of the games himself.  Trying not to think of US Airways Flight 1549, floating in the Hudson.  Thankfully, soon find myself a cookie-induced stupor.

 

5:38pm:  Arrive in Philadelphia.  Just starting to notice all the Black folks walking around the airport, wearing Obama paraphernalia and smiles.  4-year-old daughter draws lots of amused attention as she rolls one of our big suitcases in the terminal by herself.  Reminder to self:  get a picture of this later.

 

5:55pm:  Rent white SUV (I typically try to rent white vehicles when traveling; easy for an old guy like me to remember the color, if not the make/model).  Thankfully, it’s not a Ford Bronco.  The last thing I need on this particular weekend is a reminder of that Orange County “Sunday drive” that Al Cowlings took his buddy on back in 1994. 

 

7:10pm:  Arrive at Residence Inn in Exton, PA — our home for the next five days.  Two-bedroom suite and full kitchen:  yeah, I’d say this is enough room for the five of us.  My sister, Brenda, who lives a few minutes away, meets us at the hotel, gives each of the youngest kids Disney Pez dispensers.  Nothing like the toy/candy combination to get instant worship!

 

8:20pm:  Brenda takes us to Ron’s Grill for dinner.  At the entrance, a man is tuning a mandolin.  By the time food arrives, said man is in full-on Peter, Paul and Mary mode.  I am now acutely aware of what part of town we’re in (hint:  it ain’t the hood).   

 

11:20pm:  Wife sets a wake-up call…for 6:30am.  She wants to depart for D.C. by 9am.  Yeah, right.   We’ll see about that. 

 

Sunday, January 18

 

5:10am:  Awake on my own.  Always have trouble sleeping on the road — especially when I’m traveling by myself.  As usual, wife hoards blanket.  Turns out son, who slept on couch in living room, left his TV on all night.  Reminder to self:  take sleeping pill…or coffee mug full of Jack Daniels (whichever is handy).

 

5:50am:  Can’t get back to sleep.  Brew coffee.  Aaaahh.  All is right with the world now.  Begin scribing this diary of events.

 

9:39am:  Depart for D.C. (I knew we wouldn’t make 9:00).  Kids can now say they’ve been to four different parts of the country – Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, and the District of Columbia (statehood now) — in one day.  People do two all the time (heck, we did that heading to the airport — Kansas to Missouri), but four is a big deal.  Count at least 14 police cars — with lights and sirens in working order – between Philadelphia and D.C.  Guess The Wire is more accurate than originally thought.

 

12:02pm:  After a couple of health stops, arrive at Howard University (holiday weekend; figured students would scatter).  After consulting the map and getting reports of road closings near the National Mall, determined best course of action was to take Metro from Howard to Smithsonian station.  Emerge within the heart of the “We Are One” pre-inaugural celebration.  Nothing but people, people, and more people.  Many are wearing Obama gear.  Most are not African-American — although, “my people” are everywhere.   I’m half-expecting to see either Al Sharpton or Li’l Wayne.  Notice that several within the crowd are neither African nor American.  What a country!

 

2:33pm:  Standing between the Capitol and the Washington Monument, look up on one of the big screens placed on the Mall, and see a Marine Sergeant singing the national anthem on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.  Kids are cold and confused.  “Where’s Obama?” my son asks.  Denzel Washington follows with some opening remarks.  When he said, “…people from Kansas to Kentucky…” knew he was talking to me.  “There he is!”  son shouts.  I have to explain that, as good-looking and talented as he may be, Denzel Washington is not the star of this particular show.  Son is not impressed.

 

2:38pm:  Bruce Springsteen fronts a choir on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.  Suggest to wife that we head to the Smithsonian…like, now.  She insists on skipping the Museum of Natural History — which is right in front of us — in favor of the Museum of American History, two blocks down.  While there were a few worthwhile exhibits (the Pop Culture wing — smaller than expected — and the American Presidents were highlights), didn’t meet her expectations.  Now, both wife and son unimpressed with trip. 

 

3:21pm:  Family goes to Smithsonian gift shop while I check map for bearings.  Four-year-old, dressed in layers worthy of a Mt. Everest Sherpa, announces she’s hot.  Take her outside to cool off.  Asked her what she liked so far.  “Taking pictures with my own camera,” she says.  There’s hope for this one.

 

4:01pm:  Make our way to the White House.  Crazy crowd outside — literally shoulder-to-shoulder — trying to take pictures.  Son finally excited about something, other than climbing on stuff.  Gets to take picture.  Wife takes picture.  27-year-old takes picture.  4-year old has the best view, as she’s sitting on my shoulders.  Best part of the day for me, because everyone had their shot to be a part of this, our only planned Washington D.C. visit.  As the architect of trip, feel a sense of satisfaction that kids can now watch with their kids on the History Channel (perhaps, after I’m gone) and relay to my future grandbabies that they got to participate.  I feel like George W. Bush:  Mission Accomplished!  At this moment, I’d take out a second mortgage to rent an aircraft carrier.

 

4:50pm:  On way to Smithsonian Metro station, 27-year-old suggests we take the Federal Triangle station.  Packed with commuters.  While standing in line, heard that there were literally thousands of people at the Smithsonian station.  Once we get on the train and arrive at the Smithsonian stop, learned just how true that estimate was.  27-year-old just earned a “yes” from me at her next “can-I-borrow-some-money” 3am phone call.

 

5:58pm:  Yes, an hour after joining the queue at the Metro station, arrive at car we parked near the Howard University station.  The instant the car pulls from the parking spot, 8-year-old announces he needs to go to the bathroom.  Typical.  Pull into Veterans Administration hospital.  Facility is miles from the National Mall; they had a police security check.  These.  People.  Are.  Not.  Playing.

 

8:02pm:  After pit stop for gas, food and Starbucks white mocha cappuccino, wife offers to drive.  Sit in back with 4-year-old and 8-year-old, as they watch a DVD.  Listen to first half of Steelers-Ravens game in relative peace.  And how ’bout them Cardinals!  Just realized I gave up perhaps the greatest Sunday in football (the Super Bowl has turned into the prom) so my kids can participate in some portion of history.  Reminder to self:  slap yourself upon return to home for failing to tape the games.

 

9:13pm:  Arrive back at hotel.  Everyone is eager to shed their layers and get into bed clothes.  Wife informs me that she’s gonna watch the replay on HBO, beginning at 11:30pm.  I stay up with her.  Guess I’m sleeping in tomorrow.

 

Monday, January 19

 

9:12am:  Sleeping in was nice.  Kids wanted to go swimming before breakfast.  Looking forward to a relaxing Martin Luther King Jr. “buffer day”.  Decide to spend the afternoon at the Adventure Aquarium (www.adventureaquarium.com) in Camden, NJ (state #5).  Bet the kids won’t get bored looking at sharks and turtles!  No schedule, no rush. 

 

1:12pm:  Head over to sister’s house.  Starts snowing.  Nearly break my arm patting myself on the back for renting that SUV, instead of that convertible.

 

2:24pm:  Traffic on the Schuylkill Expressway was bumper-to-bumper.  Road so congested, there was a truck pouring sand mixed with Nyquil.  Learn that this is typical — even in the middle of the day.  Has nothing to do with the weather, or the holiday.  The aquarium is right on the Delaware River, so walk from parking lot was cold.  Kids are excited to see some hippos, sharks, and turtles.  Didn’t realize that they were behind a clear plastic partition, so we could get nose-to-nose with these creatures.

 

3:12pm:  Wife forced us to take “family picture” together.  Aquarium staff member, who “volunteers” to take the pictures exhibits extraordinary patience with wife and 27-year-old, as she switches from camera to camera.  I can only imagine what Barack Obama has – and will have — to endure. 

 

3:47pm:  Touched a live shark.  Felt rough and slimy.  For some reason, experience conjured up image of Leona Helmsley.

 

4:37pm:  Saw a fish with four eyes: one pair for above the water, another for below.  Son enthralled watching a video of piranhas making quick work of a bird.  I prefer the mud skippers. 

 

4:50pm:  Touched a starfish and a sea anemone.  Best interactive aquarium I’ve ever seen.  Kids wiped out…and starving.

 

6:45pm:  Enjoy nice, leisurely dinner at Red Lobster — in keeping with the aquarium theme.  Kids perk up after filling their faces with appetizers.  Begin planning our venue for the swearing-in ceremony, making mental notes to check the Internet upon return to hotel.

 

9:00pm:  Kids go swimming.  Spend time planning the location for witnessing history:  Independence Center or the African-American Museum — both within two blocks of each other in downtown Philadelphia.

 

9:33pm:  Discover the National Constitution Center, part of the Independence Center, offers an African-American exhibit, “America I Am.”  Order tickets online for 11:00am start, while trying to understand how the Founding Fathers got the Revolution off the ground without laptop computers.

 

Tuesday, January 20

 

8:00am:  Rouse family for day’s event.  Son selects cereal, powdered doughnut, yogurt, Sunny D, and toast for breakfast, then eats his little sister’s doughnut, too.  Reminder to self:  apply for graveyard shift at supermarket, in order to get the employee discount on the future cruise ship-worthy grocery bills my son will require.

 

9:35am:  Ride with sister to Independence Mall in downtown Philadelphia, as family follows.  Find it both ironic and very appropriate that, at the birthplace of this nation’s independence, as well as the Constitution — where the words, “We, the people” didn’t exactly include my ancestors (well, it included three-fifths of them) — we will witness the swearing in of a man who would have been property a mere 145 years ago. 

 

11:10am: Walk into National Constitution Center (NCC), at north end of Independence Mall, 10 minutes late for the “America I Am” exhibit ordered the night before.  Fortunately, attendant was kind enough to change our start time for 1:30pm.  A woman hands us buttons with a portion of the presidential oath on it.  Take pictures beside cardboard cutout of the soon-to-be-POTUS-in less-than-an-hour.  Discuss destination options for witnessing history.  At least 1,000 people are standing outside by the Liberty Bell, in front of a huge TV screen simulcasting the events occuring on the National Mall.  TV screens are also positioned on both levels of the NCC.  It’s about 17 degrees outside; considerable warmer in the cafe.  Easy decision.

 

11:55am:  Joe Biden is sworn in as vice president of these United States.  A star-studded string quartet plays an original composition by the legendary John Williams.  8-year-old is bored.  I explain to him again that he IS Obama, and this moment is significant for all Americans, but particularly for those who are or have ever been disenfranchised from the “inalienable rights” the founding fathers bestowed upon themselves in our Constitution.  He wants to know when we are headed “home” to the hotel, so he can go swimming. 

 

12:02pm:  Katie Couric overlays CBS’ audio broadcast to “announce” that, because it’s after 12 noon, Joe Biden is officially the president, because Obama’s oath is late.  Because she’s interrupting the poignancy of my moment, I tell Ms. Couric to “shut up.”  Out loud.  Like she can really hear me through the TV…

 

12:05pm:  Have son hold his button received upon our arrival at the NCC, so that he can read along as the president-elect says the words.  He’s nonplussed as he awaits the oath.  Finally, after two months of build-up, Barack Hussein Obama becomes the president.  Not “the first African American president” as I am now tired of hearing.  Just the president of the United States.  Since we are a “media-driven society” (in my mind, that’s just a fancy way of saying we’re a bunch of gossips), I realize the “stutter heard ’round the world” will be analyzed ad nauseum.  No big deal, in my opinion.  Thought of Shakespeare:  Much Ado About Nothing.

 

12:18pm:  In the middle of President Obama’s inaugural address, 8-year-old starts fidgeting and playing with his food and the plastic utensils.  Send him to sit alone at a table by himself, so as not to disturb the people around us.  He is not happy.  Have a daydream about son’s life 25 years in the future, when he’s bragging to his family that “he was there.”  And how this diary, offering anecdotes of his clowning around, busts him.  

 

12:30pm:  My manager, Mike Smith, joins us at the NCC for lunch.  He works out of the King of Prussia office, and drove several miles into Philadelphia just to meet me and my family.  Tried to impress him with my dedication to the job, by showing him that I brought my computer with me on the trip.  Didn’t work.  Now, I’ll have to actually be good at my job. 

 

1:30pm:  Begin tour of “America I Am” exhibit (www.americaiam.org), which offers an account of “400 years of African-American contributions to this country.”  Amazed at how honest it is in its depiction of the exploitation of the slave trade, and the economic impact to descendants of slaves and slave owners to this day. 

 

1:49pm:  Reach portion of exhibit that served as a replica slave hold of a ship.  As kids were standing behind the iron bars in the dark bowels of the “ship” — with an artist’s rendition of a packed slave ship behind me – I explained to them how people that looked like me were captured, chained, and stacked like cargo, and traveled the ocean during the “middle passage” of the Triangle Trade (slaves/raw materials/manufactured goods).  Told them that their great-great-great-great grandmother or grandfather probably came across the ocean to America in this way.  This was a difficult, yet necessary, conversation I had to have with the 4-year-old and 8-year-old; the 27-year-old has already heard this. 

 

2:49pm:  Was supposed to be a 50-minute exhibit.  Took us over an hour to get through the entire thing.  Let loose a few tears, I admit.  Had I seen this before the swearing-in ceremony, as originally planned (we were 10 minutes late), I probably would have been mad at all White people the rest of the day.  God works in mysterious ways.  Reminder to self:  check to see what cities this exhibit will be traveling to…so I can go again.

 

3:30pm:  Attend “Freedom Rising,” a hosted, 4D show touting the story of America, the Founding Fathers, and the Constitution.  Not bad, but a bit lame compared to the exhibit I just saw. 

 

4:10pm:  Spend 15 minutes talking to some guy about the White House, in front of models of the building (along with the U.S. Capitol and the Supreme Court buildings).  27-year-old is desperate to leave, lest we miss the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall tour.   I tell her we have time, we’ll be fine.  Don’t think she believed me.  I tell the group to go ahead, I’ll catch up.  This guy loves to talk incessantly more than I do.  Didn’t think that possible.  I met an older, nerdier version of me.

 

4:27pm:  See Liberty Bell.  8-year-old is finally excited about something.  Grills the park rangers with questions.  Reminder to self:  start ringing cracked bells when it’s time for homework.

 

4:39pm:  Arrive juuuuuust in time for the final Independence Hall tour — which is scheduled for 4:40pm.  Get a feeling of self-congratulations for being right.  Again.  Arm starts hurting, from patting myself on the back.

 

5:57pm:  Have dinner at City Tavern, one of the country’s oldest restaurants (www.citytavern.com). Second time for me eating here, first time not on an expense account.  Founded in 1773, many Founding Fathers, including John Adams, Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, and Paul Revere spent many evenings dining, socializing, and perhaps, sowing the seeds of liberty.  8-year-old asks for directions to bathroom; maitre’d corrects him:  “the ‘necessary’ is downstairs, young sir.”  Semantics are lost on 8-year-old.  Best $225 meal I’ve ever had.  Also, last $225 meal I’m likely to have for a loooooooooooooong time.

 

8:40pm:  At hotel swimming pool, ask kids what their favorite part of trip was.  4-year-old says “the hot tub.”  8-year-old says “the piranhas eating the bird…and a bear” (actually, some kind of sloth).  Resigned myself to fact that the purpose for the trip — to allow our kids to participate in what may be the most significant and far-reaching event of their lifetime — has only resonated with the 27-year-old.  Start thinking of the interest lost on the money spent…and yet to be spent by wife in New York.

 

Wednesday, January 21

 

6:30am:  Wife and 27-year-old need to get to 30^th Street station to catch 9:30am train to New York.  Packed, showered and shaved the night before, so only need to dress and grab a cup of coffee and an apple before leaving for airport.

 

9:03am:  Drop wife and 27-year-old off at cab stand.  Drop off rental car, check bags at security.  11am flight is on-time.  Make a few impulse purchases, including a couple Liberty Bell replicas — one for 27-year-old (she missed out at Liberty Bell gift shop the day before) and one for 8-year-old…so I can ring it when it’s time to do his homework.  While waiting in line, notice woman wearing an Oklahoma State sweatshirt.  Give her some grief, being a Sooners fan.  Find out she’s from Oklahoma City…my hometown.  Find out she knows my brother, David.  Call my mother; find out they’re sorority sisters, part of the same alumni chapter back in OKC.  Small, small world:  met a homegirl by happenstance in a gift shop at the Philadelphia airport.  Wow.

 

 

I have a plethora of other thoughts, feelings, and observations, including the following:

 

• I wish my father could have lived to see this day.  He was the first person I thought of when Obama accepted his party’s nomination.
• Very grateful that I was able to provide an opportunity for my kids to participate in history.
• Grateful that my sister took time off from work to accompany us.  We don’t get to see each other very often, and we’re getting “up there,” so it was special for my kids to spend quality time with Aunt Brenda.
• While acknowledging that an Obama presidency indicates a tremendous step forward for this country in dealing with our disparate racial identities, the fact that he’s described as an African-American illustrates that there’s still work to be done.  It’s as if the ancestry Obama inherited from his mother is non-existent.  Perhaps without being conscious of what we’re doing, collectively, we are still labeling a portion of our citizenry using the ”one-drop” rule.  (If you don’t know what that means, you’re part of the problem)
• I haven’t smiled this much for a long, long time.
• Strangers were striking up innocuous, pleasant conversations with me, my wife, my kids — each other.  And very considerate, too:  holding doors. The entire weekend was a courtesy-fest. We can be better than we are.
• This entire ride has been surreal.  It didn’t become “real” for me until I saw President Obama with his hand on that bible, taking that oath — as I have now seen 13 times (including Gerald Ford).
• I did not cry during the swearing-in ceremony.  That surprised me.  I was expecting to, but I didn’t. 
• During the opening prayer, I prayed for Obama’s detractors and critics than I did for those of us who have supported him all along.  Unless they accept and work with his administration, the entire country is in for continued hardships.  I hope those folks will think of the greater good more than they do of political maneuvering.  It’s time out for that — at least for awhile.

 

Overall, I felt such unadulterated joy in being an American — perhaps for the first time.  For most of my life, my identity as a Black man has overshadowed every other identifier in my life — including, I’m sad to say, as a Christian.  Since the birth of my kids, I have tried to be, as Sidney Poitier’s character so eloquently stated to his father in “Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner,” simply…a man.  That’s how I see our 44th president:  a man who campaigned, was elected, and will now govern under the auspices of a simple, yet challenging ideal:  hope.  I pray that you join me in praying for His blessings for my fellow citizens of planet Earth.

 

p.s.:  On flight home, sat in front row of plane with 8-year-old and 4-year-old (wife and 27-year-old took train to New York City).  Flight attendant from Milwaukee-Kansas City (state #6) leg was very interested in kids’ observations of the previous day. 

 

Flight attendant:  “So, did you go to the inauguration?”

8-year-old son:  “Sorta.  We saw it on TV.”

FA:  “You flew to D.C. just to watch it on television?”

8YOS:  “No.  We saw it in Philadelphia, where the Liberty Bell is.  My aunt Brenda lives there (in the Philadelphia area).”

FA:  “Did you get to go to Washington at all?”
8YOS:  “Yes.  We went on Sunday.  They had a concert, and Obama was there when we were there, so we kinda got to be a part of things.”

4-year-old daughter:  “We rode the train down there, and had to walk around a lot.”

FA:  “So, was it worth it?”

8YOS:  “Yeah.  But I have to go back to school tomorrow, though.”

FA:  “What are you going to tell your friends?”

8YOS:  “I’m gonna let them know that Obama is the new president now, and I got to see the White House where he’s gonna live.  He’s just like me, and that’s kinda cool.”

 

Finally.