That little election we just had

dc114

It’s hard being the only flaming liberal in your little family. Okay, my aunt Vicki is also a flaming liberal. So there are two of us, I guess, among a sea of red. Red so red that I am regularly inundated with emails calling out Obama for not being patriotic enough. Not loving his country enough. Not saluting the flag enough. Not being Christian enough. And my dad has been saying for years that Obama is an undercover Muslim hellbent on destroying the U.S. from the inside. He knows this because he heard it from a guy who does construction for some Muslim dude who said it was true. I like to imagine that scenario: Muslim prankster chews sandwich and scares the shit out of a couple of nearby white dudes by confirming their biggest fear.

I try to keep my mouth shut because we all know arguing with your family about politics is a nonstarter, but sometimes I can’t. Keep arguing long enough and you realize there are parallel realities happening. It’s scary.

Just this weekend my family was in town for Holden’s birthday party and apparently (I found out the next day when I left for work) my brother ripped up my Obama yard sign and my dad replaced it with a Romney sign. I don’t run around ripping up his Confederate flags and putting down, uh, American flags. Because that’s his thing and even though I disagree with it and think it’s divisive and hurtful, that’s his property and his house. I let it be. I reckon those rules have changed though, going by precedent.

Here we are in the afterglow of a re-election victory. What a relief. I haven’t called or texted anyone to gloat. I remember how I felt in 2004 when Kerry lost. Just fucking beside myself with grief. How could the country be so stupid? I’m sure Republicans are reeling in the same way. Those stupid Democrats and their stupid lack of stupid comments about rape. And their stupid legal weed and their stupid marriage equality.

God, I want to gloat.

Four years ago, in January, I got to witness history being made. That picture up there shows an enormous crowd at the Obama inauguration. It was an honor and a fucking blast to be present for that. The vibe was incredible and it’s one of the most important and cool things I have ever done. I’d like to go again.

It feels good to win but it feels even better to see the tide turn toward sanity. I have to remember that it is a tide, though, and sometimes it will recede. We take steps forward and then get yanked back sometimes. You can’t lose hope and you can’t check out. Politics is not a game and I get irritated when I hear people dismiss it as such. Those people in slick suits politicking are going to make the rules you live your life by; you sure as shit better pay attention, read something every now and then, and contribute.

And for god’s sake, don’t get caught on the wrong, hateful side of history.

Day 21: Footwork

dc331

I am still paying for my poor footwear decision during my time in D.C. I have worn the same Doc Martens since eighth grade and they have always been kind to me, but I had no idea how horribly they could treat me.

I walked miles upon miles, trying to see and do as much as possible in that city. There’s so much to do, and so much of it is free, that I feel like I could spend months there without ever really getting bored. In the span of a single day, I saw the Lincoln Monument, WWII Memorial, Vietnam Memorial, Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, Natural History Museum, National Gallery of Art, and Newseum. Needless to say I am going to have to revisit all of those places at a later date when I have some time to devote to them.

There’s so much more to say about D.C. but I am still so exhausted that it’s hard to sit and get my thoughts together about anything. Luckily, I’ve got photographs to tell the story for me.

I am always fascinated by high-density urban spaces and ways in which people live that differ so vastly from the ways I have lived. I like to think I could hack it but sometimes I honestly wonder if the pace and the lack of space wouldn’t wear me down to a nub real quicklike. Then again, some major changes in my lifestyle inspired by particular urban norms could make me a better person all around. You just never know.

I do want to say thank you to my hosts and all the people who lent me luggage and pieces of winter clothing to help make my journey more comfortable. You guys are amazing and I am lucky to have you in my life.

(Detail of Cézanne’s “Portrait of the Artist’s Father,” found in the National Gallery of Art.)

[Project 365]

My favorite bit of the inaugural address

I’ve been slowly catching up on analysis of the speech, and there have been some fascinating conversations happening all over the interwebs. Watching the speech, I felt it was beautifully pragmatic and perfectly authoritative and inspirational, but others were more disappointed, feeling it wasn’t as grand a rhetorical sweep as it should have been.

I especially enjoyed this measured response over at The Root, which deems Obama’s speech “a sacred effort.”

My favorite bit of his address came after an unexpected shout-out to atheists, who are generally ignored and considered a toxic bloc by politicians. It was a nice feeling hearing “non-believers” included in the same breath with Christians and Muslims, and, hell, I’m not even atheist.

We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus, and nonbelievers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth.

And because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.

Day 20: History

dc117

(You have to look at the big version to appreciate the scope, and to see the screen we were all watching.)

I’m having a hard time writing about Tuesday. I’ve been thinking about it nonstop for days now, trying to process my thoughts, to let the cream rise to the top, but there’s just so much to work through.

I want to talk about the things I saw and heard —

the sun rising and the streets filling with people wrapped in fleece and wool, trickling into the fold, growing in number, finally teeming and filling the streets of D.C. sidewalk to sidewalk as they made their way into the Mall

the officials directing people into the Mall, sing-songily welcoming visitors to the city and everyone to the time and place at which history would be made

the Washington Monument towering over everyone with such ridiculous authority, like a territorial spike someone had driven into the ground

a dog (who brings a dog to an inauguration? and before you ask, it was not a service dog)

a bottle of Jack on the ground, foreshadowing the bourbon and brandy my hosts and I would swig a little later to get our hearts pumping as the sun peeked back behind a cloud

people, lord, the people

periodic spontaneous chants of “O-ba-ma! O-ba-ma!” and “Yes we can!”

a pile of hipsters from Detroit cuddling for warmth (probably the most brilliant thing ever, and I’m sad I did not join them)

the tv cameras, lord, the tv cameras (we were in a very media-friendly area what with all the flags flapping around the monument behind us)

amateur documentarians and photographers alike, shoving tiny lenses toward every point of light

a screen in the distance where finally, after our hours upon hours of just standing in the same spot in the cold, dignitaries and former presidents began to appear to take their places on the stage.

a sea of people cheer for Colin Powell, Jimmy Carter, and Bill Clinton

a sea of people boo and jeer mercilessly at Dick Cheney and George W. Bush, even erupting into song (“Naaaa, na na naa naaa, hey hey hey, gooood-byeeee”) and waving them goodbye

an eruption of absolute batshit craziness at any sight of Barack Obama on the jumbotron

Aretha Franklin’s hat, yow!

a dude so pumped that he lifted his bicycle into the air to celebrate

one of the Detroit hipsters (who actually lives in San Francisco; he is in the white hoodie above) yell “Fein-stei-YEEN!” every time Diane Feinstein finished a paragraph

some dude I nicknamed Captain Obvious narrate every fricking thing that appeared on the screen (“Oh, he’s getting out of the car. Think he’s going to the stage now? Is he wearing a red tie? Isn’t Roberts supposed to do the swearing in? Is that John Roberts? Dick Cheney is in a wheelchair. Jimmy Carter looks old.” Etc.)

some couple I am still not sure how to nickname having such completely loud and completely stupid conversations about everything in sight that I wondered if I was on that show where MTV does something awful to you for eight minutes or whatever just to see if you can hold out without getting so pissed that you start punching babies

a couple of dudes behind me making up for the idiots in the crowd by riffing hilariously on everything (I tweeted a couple of their zingers)

Rick Warren getting booed nearly as bad as Bush and Cheney, and some kid in front of me yelling, “Go to Hell!”

a useless phone in my hand that wouldn’t get online, make calls, or send/receive texts

the sight of people embracing and the sound of sniffles and open weeping as the searingly emotional sounds of Yo Yo Ma’s quartet’s performance (pre-recorded or no, it was amazingly beautiful) floated through the air

the sound of my own sniffles and the sting of hot tears on my cheek

a deafening roar and then palpable hush falling over the crowd as the swearing-in got underway

the oath flub, which caused me and my companions to look quizzically at one another, because it was unclear if it was a sound error or an honest-to-god real-time human error

an eruption of cheers and screams following the oath that was so loud it completely masked the sound of cannons

the silence except for cheers after particularly resonant passages of the inaugural address

smiles on all faces

laughter as the camera cut to Bush 43 as Obama talked about no longer compromising our ideals for expedience’s sake

more roars of celebration

the Detroit hipsters, with their arms around each other, keep their heads lowered for the entire address, with the dude in the white hoodie periodically raising his fist in solidarity

the shared relief as everyone realized that it was over, we had done it, it had happened, and it was real

the crush of people pushing toward the one exit as the poet rigidly recited her verse

the crush of people pausing in their journey to the exit as the benediction was delivered to much laughing and many “amen”s

people perched in trees and on top of garbage dumpsters for better vantage points

a Haitian band with drums and pipe instruments break into song, which had hip-hop kids and hippies alike dancing

a row of port-a-johns that spanned the whole horizon

too much trash on the ground

the sight of Bush’s helicopter flying directly over my head and many people turning to give it a fond middle-fingered farewell

merchandise, merchandise, merchandise (including election-themed condoms: “Remember the election with your next erection!”)

— but there’s just so much that I can’t get it all down. So much has already left my skull because there’s just not enough room for it all.

I want to write about the things that I felt —

complete and overwhelming relief and joy

amazement

wonder

pride

anxiety

loneliness

balls-out cold

hope

optimism

— but the emotions I cycled through that morning and afternoon would probably meet the DSM-IV’s definition of bipolar.

And yet.

Pride wins out. I am proud of my new president. I am proud of my country. I am proud that we have a solid chance to build something out of the ruins of the past eight years. I am so fucking proud to have been part of a moment in which so many people gathered to celebrate — to build up, not to tear down. I don’t know that I will ever get a chance like that again in my life and I am so grateful for the good fortune that allowed me to take part.

It was a little bittersweet that even though I was there in the flesh, I still had to experience capital-H History through a giant television screen. Such is the way, I suppose, but it’s still worth noting. It was surreal to see the hands with tiny cameras raised in unison, everyone capturing the moment and copying bragging rights to cards and hard drives. We live so much of our lives through screens these days.

I watch this video and get emotional that the energy there on the Mall that day is reflected so beautifully in the raw media coverage. I listen for the delayed cheers and beam with pride knowing that my voice was among them.

[Project 365]

Day 19: Welcome to DC

Day 19: Welcome to DC

DC treated me right. I’ll admit — I’m a little smitten. But I’ll write more about that later.

[Project 365]

T-minus two weeks

I’ll be in Washington, D.C., two weeks from this very moment. It’s kind of ridiculous how it has crept up on me, and how unprepared I feel. Actually, that part’s not ridiculous at all; I routinely fly places while being fully unprepared. I don’t ever get fully prepared for anything, really.

One thing I need to do is procure a proper winter coat. When I visited Chicago in mid-December of 2007, I very nearly froze to death after being outside for three minutes because my wussy little trenchcoat did little more than shield me from the most timid of breezes. I’m told D.C. can be brutally cold in January and I’d hate to get there and then be unable to move because of my own inability to dress myself appropriately.

(Of course, if I go and buy an $80 coat — how much do coats these days cost, anyway? — it’s pretty much guaranteed to be 60 degrees in D.C. when I’m there. Which is also fine. In fact, that would be effing awesome, right?)

I’ve been officially turned down for inauguration tickets (thanks for nothing, Steve Cohen!!!) so I don’t exactly know what I will or won’t be able to see and do. I figure I’ll do a lot of wandering around, pushing through crowds, trying to find the top of my gracious pal David’s head, and standing on tip-toes. Lots of squinting. Which is fine. Just being there will be an amazing experience in and of itself. But it sure would be nice to feel like I had some chance of actually participating in more than the sheer spectacle of four million crazies descending upon the Capitol. I am one of those crazies, so I can hardly complain. I realize that people watching their televisions from home might get a better view than I will get, actually being there, but I am still so excited to get the chance to tap in to the electricity that I hope will be buzzing through the city that day. And then coast on that high through the rest of the week while I tour museums and see what the local watering holes are like.

My dad is super worried and convinced that a complete meltdown of human order is going to happen. He’s not keen on the idea of his little girl being in the thick of such a major news event, but I think that once it’s over and everything has more or less gone smoothly, he’ll be the first to brag to his work friends that I was there, witnessing it all. At least I hope he’ll brag. I want him to understand how important this is to me, to our country, to civilization in general. I want him to feel some semblance of pride. Not fear. This needs to be a good moment for him and people like him. I’ve got all my digits crossed in the hopes that everything goes smoothly and that people can come together to celebrate this amazing victory without conflict.

But, well, we’ll see.

Yes indeed

c-y

At the risk of jinxing all my tentative plans just by talking about them in positive tones, I’m pretty excited right now. I’ve got a roundtrip ticket to D.C. I’ve got a couch/floor/box on/in which to stay once I get there. And I’ve got a huge historic moment to witness. Yep. Pretty excited. Preeeeettttttyyyy exciiiited.

I’ve never been to D.C. before. Where should I go? I figure I better put some time in at the Newseum. Bring offerings to lay at the feet of the news-design gods (the prayer: “O News Design Gods, stave off my irrelevance for another year and I promise to respect standard gutter widths and headline hierarchy, amen!”). Of course there will be the required cemetery and monument viewing.

God, I have such museum-lust that I may not have allotted enough time (I’ll be there the 19th, 20th, 21st and leaving out on the 22nd). Seriously, I could probably spend the entire time in the Smithsonian. Thanks to my mom, I’ve been a faithful subscriber to Smithsonian Magazine for, gosh, at least five or six years now, so I feel like me and the ol’ SI are likethis. I even have a membership card and everything. Holy crap, I bet that means I get a discount!

Discount dance! Discount dance!

Okay. Obviously, I’m terribly excited about this upcoming adventure and I’ve lost all of my rational faculties and it’s all because of the juicebox wine.

I’m going back to the puppycam.