Stories we tell each other

This was an amazing opportunity to talk with people from all over the country -- all over the world! -- brought together by a united desire to witness history. As we stood in line, as we bumped up against each other in eddies and swirls of the crowd, we talked about where we were from, how long we'd been waiting, how much it meant to us to be right where we were on this very cold day.

I met a woman from Romulus at Rep. Dingell's reception on Monday. She told me how, as a child in Alabama, she'd lived just a few miles from Selma. On the Sunday when those little girls had been killed in their church, she and her family were just getting ready to go to church themselves. She told me how scared they were to go to church that day, and how that fear affected her for many years. She cried with true release when Barak Obama was elected, letting go of the fear she'd forgotten she still held inside. She said she felt vindicated. She told me that she'd come home from work exhausted, and think, 'I can't go work on the election tonight. I'm too tired.' I said, 'I know -- and then you said to yourself -- but if I wake up the next day and he's lost, I'll blame myself. I felt the same way.' We laughed together.

This was the first election she'd ever volunteered to work in -- there was no way she'd miss this inauguration.

So there we were -- two women of the same generation who two years ago would have talked politely but never shared an intimate conversation, talking freely about how hard we'd worked to get to this day and how much it meant to us. I wasn't afraid she'd think I was patronizing. She wasn't cautious.

This continued to happen as I struck up conversations with people. I met people from Oakland, California and Lansing, Michigan. From Texas and Iowa. I asked how long people had been planning to come to the Inauguration and how they'd gotten there. I asked where they were from. I learned about them.

One man from Oakland had been planning to come with a 79 year old friend, who'd gotten ill. He'd come instead with a friend from Orange County, CA. We shared the travails of the Metro system on the way to the Inauguration at 6:30 in the morning; he was there to bear witness.

A woman from Louisiana explained to me that she'd been planning to come for a month. She couldn't get tickets, but she just showed up at her congress person's office and there were some unused tickets -- and she got two. She said 'There's all these McCain supporters who asked for tickets way back before the election, and now they don't want them. So they are just giving them away.' She didn't care what she saw, she just wanted to be there.

Walking; shuffling; standing; getting through security; finding a place to wait; all of this took hours. We left at 6:40; we finally got to our location in the Blue area about 11:00. My view of the Capitol was very limited -- the people around me were tall, and the building was far away. We heard each person announced as she or he entered; we heard the music; and we talked with each other.

When President Bush was introduced, there was a pause, and then a sound -- somewhere between a moan and a boo -- seemed to start from several directions at once and move through the crowd. Some have called this disrespectful; I heard that said then by those in the crowd. But others there said it reflected how people felt. I thought to myself that it was as if everyone had forgotten he'd be there, that he was also part of this day, and they rejected being reminded of the last 8 years in their desire to look only forward. Still, it was a brief moment, and the applause for Mr. Obama was, perhaps, even louder because of this negative emotion.

This was not a day for transcendent experiences. No one seemed to expect to be deeply moved. We were there to get our mission accomplished -- to see him sworn in, take the reins of power, and then give us our next task.

The sense that we were all friends, all there to experience something that needed to be shared in person, persisted. It was so cold and so crowded, but most of us were polite and supportive, making room for the young, the frail, the handicapped. I saw few signs of the usual selfishness that happens in crowds. And when the speeches were done, we all left quietly, or tried to. A million or more of us, trying to leave the Mall, all without transportation -- the logistics were terrible.

Like lost souls, we drifted down the streets and washed up at the museums -- where we belonged, no doubt. First the Freer, then the Smithsonian, which had an open cafe. More crowds, more lines, more people. We shared a table with a family from Lansing. I asked my usual questions. They planned to come to the inauguration anyway, as their oldest son was a member of the young peoples' congress. The father told us 'Obama's election just made it worth while.'

The music was fine, the words spoken were brief. But my, it was a wonderful experience.

Is this a diary? NO!

If this were a diary or travelogue, I'd have to write about the trip from Washington, PA here to Silver Spring. I'd love to describe our decision to drive south through Pennsylvania to West Virginia and then east to Maryland. I'd heard the roads were well maintained and that it was a better route. And when we looked out the window on Sunday morning before dawn, we saw the snow had caught up with us. The weather maps all showed the snow was going straight east -- not dropping south at all. We imagined the southern route would be the best option.

Wrong.

The snow followed us south and east, overtaking us in the mountains. One lane clear, heavy trucks going 80 on 65 mph marked mountain roads in very poor visibility, people passing cautious me from really flat Michigan whose experience driving mountains is really rather limited . . . I stayed near 60 and hoped it never got slippery. It took us from 9:15 am to 1:45 pm to get through the storm and get to Frederick, MD. Getting into Silver Spring was a comparative breeze.

The downside of the snow (well, for me -- in Ann Arbor people were seeing inches more of the fine white stuff) was that we didn't get in early enough to try to go to the mall for the concert on Sunday. However, standing in the cold for 5 or more hours is greatly overrated.

Today was our day to go into Washington. My e-mail was filled with invitations to receptions and parties. Washington's a fairly formal town, and the weather was (comparatively) warm. It was in the 30s, and we planned accordingly. Clean clothes, brushed and fairly respectable, but not overwhelming. I put on heels. (Some might understand that my good slacks are a little long, and are meant to be worn with heels -- that's how I wear them at home. Comfortable, not very high heels, but heels nonetheless.)

We also had to pick up our tickets and learn where we'd be standing tomorrow.

So, go to meet the politicians, talk with others from Michigan, pitch Ann Arbor's needs however I could, and try to look and be memorable. And get the tickets. An easy day.

Finding the first reception was easy. Senator Levin, Senator Stabenow, Rep. Schauer, Gov. Granholm, Lt. Gov. Cherry -- I talked to as many people as I could, and at least saw who was there. I also made certain to say hello to anyone from Ann Arbor.

Then it was time to pick up my ticket.

Do the math. There are 435 members of the House of Representatives. There are 4 office buildings. Each office building must have about 100 offices, right? Each member of the House (and each Senator) received 198 tickets. That means (roughly) that there were 20,000 people trying to get in to each building today -- and the hours were between 10 am and 4 pm. Not all offices were open at the same time, but that hardly matters. The lines were very long and very slow. I waited in line about 1 1/2 hours. In heels. Shuffling. In the cold.

Very bad decision. I hope I'm done making bad decisions on this trip. Please don't think my personal decisions reflect my political decisions!

The good (personal) news is that we're in the blue (standing) area. Blue is just behind the sitting area. I should be able to see and take photos.

My shoes are off, and I have time to reflect on some of the stories I heard today, from others who were there for this important event. So while I've written this travelogue, I've been digesting what made people come and what made people work. That's for my next post.

I'll put up photos of the line as soon as I figure out how.

Thoughts along the way

We left this morning just as the snow started, but by the time we reached Toledo, the wind was very gusty and the snow was driving. Maybe there wasn't going to be a lot of accumulated snow, but visibility was definitely poor.

We'd stopped at Cabela's to pick up chemical hand and foot warmers. We're going to be standing out in 30 degree weather on Tuesday for 5 or 6 hours, and I'm a delicate flower. I hate being cold. That stop, however, meant the snow had really passed us.

We thought, from the weather map before we left, that the snow would stop at the Ohio border, so I decided that, since I was driving the first leg, I'd ignore the Ohio Turnpike and just drive south-west to Dayton and pick up I-70. I hoped to drive through the snow and wind in an hour.

It took two.

By 1:30, we were past Dayton, the roads were dry, and it was time to fill the car and eat lunch. David drove most of second leg of the trip, which took us all the way here, to Washington, PA. We got here around 6:00 pm.

Tomorrow we'll drop south and go through West Virginia and Maryland, going through the Cumberland Gap. This is the way my ancesters left Maryland and Virginia to move to Ohio and Kentucky in the 18th Century. I always like re-tracing their steps. I also like taking this part of the journey in daylight.

We're due for an inch of snow overnight, and have some mountainous roads to travel. I'll drive -- but I want to stop and take a photo or two once we get to the Potomac.

If we leave early enough, we can be in Washington by noon. I'd really like that.

Martin Luther King Day - Call to Service

I'll be spending Martin Luther King Day in Washington, DC. That even sounds a little exciting to me -- and people who know me well know that I don't let myself get very excited.

But if I were staying here, normally I'd spend the long weekend knitting a sweater (it's a tradition with me). This year is different. Barak Obama has suggested that we all spend MLK day answering the call to service. I volunteer my time frequently, and if I were staying home, I'd answer this call at home.

I'm going to have this discussion with my husband -- who isn't an eager volunteer. We'll have to see what we can do to serve in Washington. There will be so many thousand of us all trying to find a way to serve, and it just may not work. My service may wait until I return to Ann Arbor.

But you have a chance to do a single day -- a few hours -- of great volunteer work here.

You can go to
www.usaservice.org
and type in your zip code (I just did this) and pick from quite a few choices. Many worthy causes are accepting contributed goods. From blankets to food, you can find something to give. If you have time and energy, you can help Food Gatherers, Safe House, the Family Learning Institure or other organizations. The Red Cross is looking for blood donors.

And then there's your favorite non-profit. Maybe you hesitated this year when the year-end appeals came out. Everyone had reason to be concerned about the way the economy has been going. But non-profit donations are down significantly this year -- and that means they won't be able to help the people who need our help now. When I say significantly, I mean 30% to 40% in some cases. Non-profits rely on direct contributions at year-end just as much as local businesses rely on Christmas sales. But those contributions are welcome ANYTIME. They keep the doors open and the services available.

So MLK day is a good time to think about whether you really can afford to give a little (more) back to our community. I know my contributions have increased significantly in the last year since I joined Council. I give more back, because I've been given so much.

Except time. I'm out of that right now. And I'm not packed.

Good night!

Going to the Inauguration

We worked for Obama (who didn't?) but we never planned to go to the big party in Washington. The money, the crowds, the travel, the money, the travel . . . did I mention the travel and the money? But our son John told me just after the election that he wanted to take his wife to the inauguration, and I asked if he'd asked for tickets.

In the ensuing conversation, I learned that he'd never heard about asking for tickets. Like any good parent, I told him how and who to ask, made certain he'd become known to his member of Congress, and suggested that we double his chances by asking for tickets myself.

I contacted Mr. Dingell's local office to ask how to get tickets, and was told to send an email with certain information -- such as how many tickets I wanted (I wanted two, but since I couldn't give them away, I asked for four), and what I'd like to do once in Washington -- tour the Congress, the White House, anything else . . . (I asked for tours of both, but no other things; no tickets to events other than the Inauguration).

Then I put the event out of reach, and got on with life. Thanksgiving and Christmas were just around the corner, and I wasn't really expecting to get tickets. The more I heard about the Inauguration, the more I realized that my odds were really bad.

My son heard back fairly quickly that he wouldn't be getting tickets. I got an email saying that Mr. Dingell had received thousands of requests for 198 tickets, and that he'd be drawing names during the first week of January. In December, I talked to several friends who were going. One was staying in Richmond, Virginia -- the only place he'd been able to get a hotel room. If anyone asked ME if I was going, they received the same answer -- sure, if I get tickets.

The first week of January came and went. I got a cold and nearly lost my voice. On the 8th, I had a very long day, with meetings starting at 7:30 am and continuing until 7:00 pm. By the time I got home, I had very little left. I announced to my husband that I just wanted to go to bed. While I was checking my phone for messages, he was trying to talk with me about dinner and what had gone on at my meetings.

There was a message from Mr. Dingell's office. We had two tickets to the Inauguration. I needed to call to confirm that we wanted them.

My husband wanted to give them to our son and his wife, and we had some discussion about that. The rules were clear that we weren't allowed to give them away, and on the 9th I confirmed that we couldn't. After that, we had to decide whether to go -- and how to go, and when, and where to stay.

We leave on Saturday. We're driving. We're staying at the home of some people we know -- parents of friends.

I've bought long underwear for both of us, warm socks, and am prepared to get us on the Metro before 6:30 am if necessary to get to the Mall by 8:00 am on the 20th -- so we can stand in our allotted spots for hours, freezing until we can witness history.

What a thrill. I have two really great cameras and a camera phone. I'll keep sending to this blog along the way.

I'll keep you posted.