From our view point

click on this!



Craig did such an eloquent job of describing things. What I want to add is that, when you stay in a spot of history for three hours, it becomes your own place, your own little neighborhood. We headed for a place that was still high enough on the gentle slope on the south side of the Mall, with a little tree on it, to let us get a sense of the people around us and still be able to breathe a little and see the jumbotrons. Such a pretty sight, to see the Washington Monument, which stands on a rounded little hill like a large upside down bowl, and this hill and the valley in front of it were filled with people, up to the horizon line in all directions. Between us and them, it seemed it must be packed solidly with folks, but actually it was not, there was a tiny little avenue there to bring in the buses with the parade marchers, who were as astonished to see all of us as we were to see them, when they appeared. They waved at us and we waved at them.

Our friends Michael and April were on the north side of the memorial we think, a very short distance away, but there was no way to even easily squirm 20 feet, let alone the 1/8th mile and two concrete barriers that probably separated us from them. And no way to make cell phone contact... not hardly, although lots of people did get on and off. Not that people wouldn't have been pretty nice about our trying to do it, because until we slowly got even more packed in, they were pretty nice. We had tall people, short people, skinny people and everyone was fatter and taller than usual because they were packed in parkas, fur lined hoods and mufflers. It was cooooold!

It was also funny to be down in the pack, and have the jumbotrons showing us their scene, up on the hill with the privileged. We were The People, and they were The Show. When we first arrived, the jumbotrons were showing replays of the last part of sunday's concert, the moment of letting the bald eagles loose to fly and to perch on Lincoln's shoulder, and ended with Barrack's speech. But then, they kinda aimlessly showed the entertainment (SFO girls and boys chorus, yay, and military marches endlessly), but would cut to odd scenes of motorcades never saying whose and then back to scenes and shots of the high muckety mucks. For a long time there was no obvious focus, just random cuts from here to there with no voice cluing you in. So you would get a glimpse of someone in a suit or Di Fi or Newt Gingrich and then you'd hear the mike with the rich folks making silly comments to each other that they didn't know were being broadcast and then it would be back to motorcade scenes. The life and comfort of the rich definitely didn't reach us. And it was so funny to us in The People audience when the emcees would say, 'please, take your seats' and all of us cold standing millions would laugh and laugh. And then, 'please rise'. we were definitely on our feet! Our toes were all numb and our legs were achy and yet it wouldn't have mattered if you lost your footing or fainted as there was not enough room to sink down on the ground. you'd be held up by the group.

Meanwhile the crowd around us had so many types of folks. The one thing I really felt was that for all the black Americans who were there, this was the most special reward they could savor. For many of the rest of us, it was about the welcome regime change and welcoming a brilliant president, but for them, it was so much more and so much a pinnacle of history. To be there in this special moment with them was not a bit uncomfortable, it was a very welcoming and polite situation. Somewhat discordant was another part of our neighbors, a trio of brassy white ladies of a certain age who were commenting steadily on absolutely everything. But next to me there was a very tranquil youngish black woman all on her own, her quiet face framed by her turned up grey collar and a grey knit hat, who was just there taking it all in, meeting no one's eyes, just watching, listening, watching. I liked her the best, of all the people watching that I did. Her reserved face, with a small private smile, and the Washington memorial rising in white radiance behind her, was really nice to turn to now and then. Here she is:



In the crowd, the experience of some things, like the invocation, was very, very powerful. For despite what was to many such a controversial choice of minister, the opening prayer came across as inclusive and moving, and it went over extremely well with the crowd we were in, which was half or more African American, and when he started the Lords Prayer, nearly everyone was joining in, even people like my husband who I didn't even know knew the lords prayer. Those were the first universal sniffles that I heard. And, Aretha Franklin, singing my country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, was great. Her voice was very pure and so well known to all of us. Let freedom ring. people were very moved. I didn't think so much of her odd hat, kind of a giant silver bow tie, though many people have told me how much they did.

Reading this blog afterwards, I'm thinking about how cool it was to hear the crowd respond as different people appeared on screen. There were a lot of comments in the press later, about how it was undignified of the crowd to boo the president during this transition of power, and I agree. But it was also very interesting to recall in retrospect, how the crowd we were in recognized, and responded to various figures. When there was a glimpse of Sandra Day O'Connor, people murmured and nudged each other and pointed at her and acclaimed her. And when Clarence Thomas appeared, it seemed there was a near universal low pitched boo. Especially the black members of the audience, really did not like him.


One of my very most favorite moments was first hearing Biden be sworn in, then hearing and seeing that incredible, exquisite quartet of musicians, YoYo Ma, Itzhak Perlman and the other two, playing John Williams' variation on Simple Gifts. Watching it, one asian, one oldish white jewish man, one young black clarinetist, the woman piano player, I realized how lovely the mix was. old, young, male female, and the look of our nation as it is today. (I later learned that Anthony McGill, the clarinetist, is really is young, he is 29). It was our little nation making the most wonderful music. and one of the things I really appreciated was that during this, the crowd really hushed down. it was a quiet reverent moment. People were at least as moved by this as by Aretha, I felt. And to me it brought back thoughts of Aaron Copeland's original use of that song in Appalachian Spring, which was really a synthesis in the 1950s of so much that made our mid 20th century culture what it was.

On an outdoor screen, our president's quickly flashed smile is a great gift on a cold, cold day. I felt very lucky to be there to hear his commitment to his job and then to listen to his speech. And after hearing quotes from Lincoln, Washington and Jefferson, kind of a nice change to hear something else that harked back to the practical, so common-man-ish, his quote from the Fred Astaire movie Swing Time - Jerome Kern's song Pick Yourself Up - urging us to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and start all over again.