Since Marie went with her high school girlfriends to the Bahamas, I thought I should take a trip of my own; so I took off last Sunday for the inauguration festivities.
On the U.S. Air flight to D.C., I stared out of the window scouring the sky for geese or large birds. The same airline, a couple of days earlier, had lost a plane in the Hudson River after hitting a flock of geese.
Most of the passengers who boarded the flight in Jacksonville were African-Americans. My seat mate was an elderly black lady from Palatka, wearing a full- length fur coat. She carried her lunch in a large hat box. Mine was in a take-out sack from Chili’s. Airlines give you absolutely nothing for free anymore – $15 to check one bag, $2 for a can of coke, and $1 for a small bottle of water, and nary a pretzel or a peanut.
I, as well as most of the other excited passengers, felt we were going to see history in the making. When the plane glided over the frozen Potomac, I breathed a sigh of relief that we didn’t land in all that floating ice. The passengers let out a scream; some were whistling and clapping, as if our team had just scored the winning touchdown.
I joined my friends, Jonathan Doster, a professional photographer, who did the cover and all the pictures in my latest book; and Richard Krauss, who lives in D.C. and works for the Government Services Administration.
On Sunday afternoon, we headed for the free outdoor concert starring Bono, Beyoncé, Springsteen, Stevie Wonder, Garth Brooks, Herbie Hancock, Usher, and many others. At least a million people packed the area between the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial, where the stage was set. We were standing so far back, we had to watch the performers on one of the large screens scattered throughout the grounds.
The temperature hovered around the freezing point as the wind swept across the icy river. The long underwear, heavy cord pants, down jacket, wool scarf, and knit hat kept me from shivering to death. The current running through the crowd reminded me of the old rock festival of the 70’s. Good vibrations, laughter, cheering, and a general feeling of camaraderie dominated the scene, without any funny-smelling smoke, long hair, and hippy attire. No way could you avoid getting hooked on the energy. Jonothan snapped one picture after another as the pink sky from the setting sun illuminated the stage where the Obama and Biden families were seated.
The crowd reflected the new President’s aspiration of “hope, progress, and change.” At the end of the concert when Beyoncé belted out from the depths of her soul, “Oh beautiful, for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain, for purple mountain majesties, above the fruited plane, America, America,” I saw tears flowing down from practically every face around me. The feeling of pride and love for our country had been rekindled in our hearts.
A woman from South Carolina sat on top of a wall asking everyone who walked by to call out their home state. She would then sound off the number of different states she had totaled – 29, 30, 31. Not only did the crowd represent every state in our country, but we met a number of people who had flown in for this momentous occasion from other countries. We talked to people from Argentina, Germany, England, Norway, and saw several proud people waving the flag of Kenya.
Afterwards, the streets were closed to vehicles to allow the million or so spectators a safe passage without causing a stampede. I have never in my life experienced being a crowd of people that size. But little did I know, the crowd at Tuesday’s inauguration would be double that. It was an experience I’ll never forget. I’ve been to many rock festivals, jazz festivals, and Georgia Bulldog football games, but this was like every event I’ve ever attended rolled into one. The miracle realized was in the demeanor of the crowd. Other large gatherings I’ve experienced contained boisterous spectators either a bit drunk or a bit stoned. But I never saw one drop of alcohol consumed, nor did anyone light up a cigarette, either the legal or the illegal kind. This gathering of stupendous proportions was much more akin to the old fashioned revivals where people came to worship. Most all the black people were wearing their Sunday best, and even all the white people wore decent-looking clothes. The energy was electric, a spirit I’ve only found at a religious gathering. Black women wept, black men wept, white women wept, and white men wept. I would have to say that this occasion qualified as the ultimate love-in.
After the 44th President was sworn in, the 43rd President was helicoptered back to his ranch in Texas, much to the delight of the partisan crowd. The weather was frigid. We had walked several miles, about an hour and a half, to the mall-area where the inauguration took place. The temperature was in the mid-20’s and the winds gusted between 15 and 20 mph. However, with people jammed so close together, body heat kept us from contracting hyperthermia.
I can’t say enough about the orderly crowd and their peaceful demeanor. It was hard for me to believe that you could have two million people crammed together without a single person getting upset about someone stepping on their foot. On the contrary, people helped each other, were extraordinarily polite, and talked about the wonder of experiencing an event of a lifetime.
An elderly black man, dressed in a suit and tie, walked next to me for about 30 minutes or so as we undertook the two-hour trudge toward the exit. Cleveland, Tennessee was his home town.
“Isn’t that the headquarters of the Church of God,” I asked.
“Yes, sir, it is,” he said. “When I was a young man, I made my money off their members who came there for conventions. You see, I was a shoeshine boy. And look at me now. I’m in Washington, D.C. watching the first black American being sworn in as President.” The wrinkles in his face and the deep scar on his neck told me that it’d been a bumpy ride for him.
I was a little surprised that there were more whites than blacks there. If I had to guess, I’d say it would’ve been 60% white to 40% black. But such a respectful crowd, it was! The blacks swelled with pride, without being boastful. In, fact, they showed a great deal of restraint and humility, I thought. “It’s not about a black man that I feel proud,” one old lady said to me. “It’s about a man who will be a President of all of us that makes me happy.”
Before leaving home, I’d received a number of messages from friends from other countries who told me how excited everyone there felt about our new President, and how they believed this would bring about an important change for the whole world.
I came away with a sense of hope that our country would return to greatness, and that, in time, with all of us working together, we can dig our way out of this hole where we’ve found ourselves. We should give our new President a chance to prove himself. I want him to succeed. It’s in all of our best interest if he does. It’s not about democrat or republican; conservative or liberal; black or white. It’s about all of us as a nation of diverse people joining together to work for the good of the whole. I’m ready to do my part. I hope you are, too.
(I wrote this on the plane coming home last night.)
I also was at the inauguration and at the concert event at the Lincoln memorial. I got very close to the front of the concert; near the end of the reflecting pool. I stood there and looked up at the president on the stairs and turned around and looked back at people lined up past the pool and up to the Washington Monument. U2 played the song 'Pride', about MLK before Obama's remarks.
ReplyDeleteMr. Dennard's observations are spot on. There were so many people: young and old, Asian, Latino, black and white. People were respectful and people were crying and everybody was freezing. I am really glad I got to be there to see it all happen.