Thoughts on the Inauguration: Part 1

As I joined the millions of people watching the inauguration of Barack Obama yesterday, my mind was flooded with so many thoughts--flashbacks, lamenting, celebrating, looking ahead.  I made an attempt at articulating them in one cohesive post, but they work well as stand alone thoughts here.  So three thoughts for Wednesday: 

I watched the inauguration in our family room, surrounded by Esme's menagerie of plastic farm animals.   Esme followed the first part of it, but needed to go down for a nap, so I missed part of Obama's speech.  As I was carrying Esme upstairs, I thought about how amazingly fortunate I am--I am living that American dream, completely pursuing my happiness, unfettered.   

Sure, my carpet isn't vacuumed, and I don't have a paying job now.  But I personally have so many, many blessings. So why do I feel so excited about a change?  

Because it's a change for everyone--everyone should have the chance to pursue a dream as I have been able to.  My dream is fairly modest--to have space to think and love and create.   I know that other people dream of things as basic as having days off, or healthcare, a car to drive, or the privilege of legally calling someone their spouse.  It is my wish, my fervent hope that everyone be able to achieve these, and much, much more.  May we all be able to pursue our dream of ourselves to the fullest.   I believe President Obama when he says he will help us toward that goal.  

Thoughts on the Inauguration, Part 2

I was fortunate to be at one other inauguration--George W. Bush's first swearing-in in 2001. It was a snowy, slushy day, and a trek to get there by car, and changing Metro lines.
But it was moving and worth weathering the chill. I did not vote for him, nor have I been a fan of Mr. Bush's policies, and yet, I was so pleased to witness a cherished tradition of turning over the helm. How fantastic is it that we can make such a full and peaceful transition between administrations, without fear of some kind of mutiny or martial takeover? We take these peaceful transitions for granted. And they are a real sign of our healthy democratic system. Yesterday we saw the joy that can come with a transition, and the grace with which Mr. Bush left his post. The beauty of such a process is not lost.

Thoughts on the Inauguration, Part 3: On Mr. Bush

As much as I did not agree with many of the policies of Mr. Bush, I feel that I have to say that I did not feel great antipathy for the guy. He is, as so many of his supporters pointed out, a "good man," described often down-to-earth, or folksy. For lots of people, Mr. Bush passed the litmus test of "Would he be fun to have a beer with?"

The problem was that for such an office as the President of the US, we need to elect someone who was not "one of us," not a drinking buddy who knows about as much geography and world affairs as the average guy. Bush has the average mentality; I believe he's as self-serving as most people we run across each day, his smugness is common among the middle class. Had you been contemporaries, he would have been the class clown or the jock in your high school. I'm certain you can easily name at least 15 people you've met in your lifetime who have exactly the same personal qualities as Mr. Bush. But what we need, for every President, for every election to higher office, is a Great Man.

Mr. Bush supported poor policies and failed so badly a lot of the time because he was too average. He was too easily swayed by the people around him, the agendas he followed weren't motivated entirely by the greatest good, but were self-serving. This is not to say he was evil or mean. Unlike many people, I do think he has a good heart, and he really did want to do the right thing. But he literally just couldn't see the whole picture. Bush isn't, and never pretended to be, a thinking man. He was an average guy, and he wasn't up to the job. I wouldn't be, either. Can you honestly say you personally know anyone who would come close to having all the qualities needed to be a good President?

The point of this is not to be harsh to Mr. Bush. Holding down arguably the most difficult job in the world, he was faced with a perfect storm of difficulties. I do think he struggled mightily at times to do his best. It just wasn't enough. He was in over his head.

I started to sing a gentler tune about Bush just before the election of 2004. Ada heard me say that I would definitely not be voting for Bush. She said, "You sound angry. Is he a bad guy?" I realized then that I was angry. But I was angry at his some of his policies, and his seeming nonchalance. He was the same as countless guys I've met over the years--smirky and knee-jerk, but underneath probably well-meaning. I didn't hate him, any more than I hated any of those other smirky guys.

Once I admitted that my problem with Bush was more about what he lacked than who he was, it was clear to me that he wasn't really a "bad guy." Certainly, I didn't want Ada to grow up making snap judgements like that. So I decided then and there that I had to let go of my anger at him. I told her what became my line for every time I was dismayed about the decisions of his administration: "President Bush is not a bad guy, honey. He had his turn at being President, and he did his best. But now it should be time for him to be at home in Texas with his family. He's a good daddy, and a good husband, and now he's going to let someone else take a turn at being President." Yesterday, that's exactly what happened. I wish him well.

President Obama is having his turn now. Unlike Bush, he does have all of those elusive qualities that make a "Great Man," and I believe he will wear the mantle of the Presidency well. I confess to having some misgivings about putting so much pressure on him--he is human, and we may discover that like us, he, too, has feet of clay. The problems our country faces are huge, and (as he has pointed out) there are no quick fixes. Will expectations of Obama exceed his capabilities? Perhaps. Regardless, I am hopeful that Obama's mettle will carry the day. His character shows in his bearing, in his rhetoric, and I think he will also do his best. And that will be more than good enough.

Inauguration poetry

Inauguration day is almost upon us, and what an exciting ceremony it is bound to be, all of it. In particular, I've been reading with interest about Elizabeth Alexander, the poet chosen to write the inaugural poem for President Obama. 

She is an exciting choice for an inaugural poet. She's an embodiment of connections between multiple disciplines. Not only is she a poet, but also a playwright. She's a professor of African American Studies at Yale. She's written on education, poetry, identity, art. She's taught in many venues, from both high school and college. She knows how to connect the dots. That Mr. Obama chose her shows that he values poetry, that he knows how to connect the dots, too. He "does nuance."

Politics aside, I am thrilled that Obama is including a poet at his inauguration. Ms. Alexander will be only the fourth poet to participate in an inaugural ceremony, a fact that leaves me disappointed, but not surprised.


I'm going to stop here and say that this is the third draft of this post, the others all ending up in a vitriolic snit lamenting that that Americans don't generally read or enjoy poetry. That we have had only four inaugurations with a poet to mark the occasion is a sad thing. But someplace in the second version of this post, I decided that I'm not going to dwell on that (at least not today).

Today I'm going to celebrate that poetry is going to be present tomorrow at the ceremony. Of course, the day is about so very much more; but the presence of a poet says a great deal about the changes that are bound to come.


As way leads to way so often, I recently stumbled across a poem that speaks to the excitement ushered in with the inauguration of another President, in another time not so long ago.

I give you Linda Pastan's "Remembering Frost at Kennedy's Inauguration," from her book, Queen of a Rainy Country

Remembering Frost at Kennedy's Inauguration

Even the flags seemed frozen

to their poles, and the men

stamping their well-shod feet

resembled an army of overcoats.

But we were young and fueled 

by hope, our ardor burned away

the cold. We were the president's,

and briefly the president would be ours.

The old poet stumbled

over his own indelible words,

his breath a wreath around his face:

a kind of prophecy.

--Linda Pastan