“O-ba-ma! O-ba-ma!” The metro train car filled with the joyful chant as the Green line pulled away from Fort Totten station heading in to central DC. I joined in, looking around at the sea of black faces in this packed, standing-room-only car, realizing that my son, Willis, and I were the only two white people on board.
We had left Richmond, VA at 7:00 a.m. on a bus that deposited us at this outlying metro station and, with freezing fingers, I’d fed dollar bills into the metro ticket kiosk and out came Obama! His photograph was on all of the metro passes being sold on this historic day—perfect!
We had left Richmond, VA at 7:00 a.m. on a bus that deposited us at this outlying metro station and, with freezing fingers, I’d fed dollar bills into the metro ticket kiosk and out came Obama! His photograph was on all of the metro passes being sold on this historic day—perfect!
Pandemonium filled the sidewalk as we emerged from the metro at the Gallery Place/Chinatown stop. Vendors hawked every type of Obama paraphernalia imaginable: hats, buttons, shirts, scarves, mugs. People milled about, unsure of what to do next. I tried to orient myself with my map, aiming for making our way south toward the National Mall. We didn’t have tickets for any of the secure, invitation- only areas, and my plan was to just get to a non-secure area of the Mall and find one of the promised “jumbotrons” on which to watch the inauguration ceremony. We were standing on the corner of H and 7th Streets about 10:30 am, so getting to the Mall by noon seemed do-able. I didn’t need to be near the main event—though that would have been nice. I just had a burning, deep-set need to be in the middle of the energy, the spirit, the optimism, the joy enveloping everyone, every corner, every lamppost, every storefront in DC on this day.
We began walking, following the crowd, zigzagging up and down blocks to continue making forward progress when the mass of people made things impassable. At about H and 12th Streets, everyone was at a complete standstill: the crowds filled every inch of the streets and sidewalks as far as you could see—and no one was moving. Word ran through the crowd that they had closed off this access point to the Mall because this section was full. “Just get down to 14th Street—you can still get on the mall there!” someone shouted. I decided to move north, away from the mall, to get out of the logjam and then try to continue west toward 14th. We inched our way along, and at each possible access point to the Mall, we’d come across another logjam of people. A police officer told us they were still letting folks onto the Mall at 18th Street, so we pressed on. Finally, at the Lincoln Memorial, we easily made our way onto the Mall, with the crowds being well-dispersed. Someone said a jumbotron was set up on the south side of the Lincoln Memorial, so we headed that way. We trotted up and over a ridge and a valley of porta-johns lay spread out below. There must have been one porta-john for every .25 of a person! No worries on this front.
We began walking, following the crowd, zigzagging up and down blocks to continue making forward progress when the mass of people made things impassable. At about H and 12th Streets, everyone was at a complete standstill: the crowds filled every inch of the streets and sidewalks as far as you could see—and no one was moving. Word ran through the crowd that they had closed off this access point to the Mall because this section was full. “Just get down to 14th Street—you can still get on the mall there!” someone shouted. I decided to move north, away from the mall, to get out of the logjam and then try to continue west toward 14th. We inched our way along, and at each possible access point to the Mall, we’d come across another logjam of people. A police officer told us they were still letting folks onto the Mall at 18th Street, so we pressed on. Finally, at the Lincoln Memorial, we easily made our way onto the Mall, with the crowds being well-dispersed. Someone said a jumbotron was set up on the south side of the Lincoln Memorial, so we headed that way. We trotted up and over a ridge and a valley of porta-johns lay spread out below. There must have been one porta-john for every .25 of a person! No worries on this front.
We joined several thousand folks in front of a large jumbotron where we had a clear view of the happenings on the Capitol Steps. We were surrounded by people of all ages, sizes and colors. All of us joined in singing “My Country “Tis of Thee” with Aretha, glorious in her green hat. We hung on every word Senator Dianne Feinstein said. We held our breath as Obama took the oath of office. And when Chief Justice John Roberts said “Congratulations, Mr. President”, we erupted: cheering, crying, hooting and hollering, jumping and dancing. A sense of relief washed over me, mingling with pride, hope, and awe. As Obama delivered his speech, I felt like I was at church: shouted “Amens!” filled the air after every important line.
By the time the ceremony ended, Willis and I were frozen to the core. We had many warm layers on, including long johns, hats and hand warmers in our gloves, but standing in 21 degree weather (15 degrees with the wind chill factor) had taken its toll. We made our way off the Mall and north to find a place to warm up and get some food.
By the time the ceremony ended, Willis and I were frozen to the core. We had many warm layers on, including long johns, hats and hand warmers in our gloves, but standing in 21 degree weather (15 degrees with the wind chill factor) had taken its toll. We made our way off the Mall and north to find a place to warm up and get some food.
We ended up in the packed Peacock Grand Café on K Street, seated beside a couple from Denver Colorado, Carolyn and Ralph, who were dressed to the nines. Carolyn had gotten an up-do for the occasion and then had to get a special fur hat to accommodate this gorgeous hairstyle, as well as match her calf-length fur coat. Ralph wore a stunning faux-fur “letter jacket” that, instead of promoting a sports team, promoted his church. We shared stories and compared notes and talked about our experiences of the day. In between conversation and food, we watched the Inaugural parade on a large-screen TV set up over the bar. As the new President and Michelle emerged from their car to walk in the street, the entire restaurant burst into applause. When Carolyn and Ralph had to leave to catch their bus, we hugged each other goodbye. Two sets of very different people, coming together on this day and sharing this common experience.
And I think that is a lot of what the Inaugural was about for me, and why it was so important for me--and my son-- to be on the Mall on January 20, 2009: the joining together of people from all walks of life, people with different values and different beliefs, different life experiences, but with the common foundation and fervent hope that our first African-American President can unite us in ways in which we have never been united before. That, together, we can transcend our differences and come together to move our country forward, out of the darkness and back into the light.
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