The TV has been on, non-stop, for the past two and a half days. I don't want to miss a moment. I'll giggle at the doom-sayers, and smile with the Presidential Historians as they marvel at the mood in Washington. I've figured out what makes Beyonce (sp?) so attractive to so many, and was thrilled to see Pete emerge from his hideout to lead the nation in This Land is Your Land, one more time. And the whole time the tears keep streaming down my face.
My eyes are so red that when I went to the Feed/Hardware store to get a new compression fitting for the upstairs toilet in the Giant House from Hell, Darleen the Clerk, asked if something was wrong. I started weeping as I tried to explain.
My absolute favorite moment in Chicago was Jesse Jackson, with tears overflowing, as he watched 400 years of history overturned.
Now, I admit, I'm a crier. Always have been. Commercials, films, books, and live theater can reduce me to goo, if the tone is right.
But, this is different. No sadness, no fear, no trace of loss or regret. Nothing but the memories of living through 7 decades of fighting so hard for a moment like this, I have been brought to an uncontrollable joy at this moment in history.
I know he tried very hard to ignore, or downplay, any issue that could be used to divide and terrify the electorate. I know that Gay Rights and Race were off the table, and aligning with any group that might provide fodder for the Atwater/Rove practitioners was carefully avoided. And it worked! He distilled the office of President to dignity and brains and grace in a way that assuaged the fears of the racists.
I know that economic and foreign policy issues made a focus on race silly and useless, even for the less well informed among us.
But I marched for Voter Rights in the 1960's. I registered voters in the deep south. I nearly got caught up in the violence and hatred that permeated the country during that horrible time.
And, I have lived to see a brilliant, gifted, skillful, Black man just about to ascend to the Presidency.
I can't stop crying. Crying for the children in Birmingham, for the young Jewish men and women who were beaten, and killed as they tried to make real the promise of justice for all. Crying for all of the gifted and talented young Black men and women who were denied the opportunities that I had. This Inauguration pays tribute to them. To the slain and maimed that have fought through out history for equality and fairness.
But, my tears are joyful. I know theirs would be. I know, having known them, that they would be standing next to Mr. Obama, proud and weeping. It has taken so long, but this will give it all meaning.