I have a daydream: Inauguration Day, 2009

[graywarrior]

Tuesday, November 18, 2008
By Tony Norman, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

Jan. 20, 2009, is as chilly as the meteorologists predicted, but the snow many feared would turn Inauguration Day into a logistical nightmare doesn't materialize.

Instead of snow, bright sunshine rains down on Washington, punching through the clouds with uncharacteristic impatience. It is as if nature itself had an interest in hurrying the ceremony along before anything could go wrong.

From the inaugural platform on the west front of the U.S. Capitol steps, President-elect Barack Obama looks out over the faces of nearly a million citizens. It is the biggest gathering for the inauguration of a president -- the biggest gathering in Washington, ever. He's humbled by the sea of well-wishers and the hope each face represents.

At noon, Barack Obama will take the oath of office. He can already see the giddiness in Sasha and Malia's eyes as they fidget in their designated spots.

Michelle Obama is also excited, blinking back every hint of wariness. He can't imagine that she has ever been as beautiful as she is at that moment, poised somewhere between the glory and the flame.

Earlier, before the first light broke while they were still in bed, she confessed that she half expected to wake up from what would turn out to be a long, impossibly complicated dream and that they would be back in Chicago with student loans to pay off.

She didn't know what intimidated her more -- the prospect that the previous two years had been a dream or that the events in her incredibly lucid "dream" had actually happened.

In the morning darkness hours before, the president-elect held her hand and kissed her gently on the lips. He teased her about the futility of Cartesian doubt, threatening to nickname the soon-to-be first lady the "First Solipsist" if she didn't snap out of it.

Barack Obama exhales in the late morning cold. He sees his retinue of Secret Service agents surveying the crowd of dignitaries and taking nothing for granted. Everyone, including the inner circle of the Bush team, is given second looks.

President George W. Bush accepts his diminished authority gracefully as he is discreetly moved to a less prominent spot. Vice President Dick Cheney and his wife whisper to each other as they are also moved, but their glowering faces betray their sentiment. They're not used to being directed by anyone.

Smiling, the president-elect scans the dais for his own vice president, sworn in earlier that morning. The tears are still visible on Joe Biden's face, having flowed freely during the ceremony. He is flanked by his wife and two sons who smile unreservedly on his behalf. The president-elect gives his running mate the thumbs up.

There is a roar of applause and recognition from the crowd. All eyes turn to Bob Dylan as he ambles to the podium, clutching several sheets of paper the way Robert Frost did at President John F. Kennedy's inaugural.

It was Rahm Emanuel's idea to tap Dylan for the role as poet laureate of what the press was already calling "Obamalot." The president-elect loved the symbolism. Bob Dylan had been the warm-up act for Martin Luther King Jr. during the March on Washington 46 years earlier.

Dylan sang "When the Ship Comes In" and "Only a Pawn in Their Game" back then. This time, he reads a few words.

"Me, I was born in 1941," Dylan says, repeating what he told a concert audience the night Mr. Obama won. "That was the year they bombed Pearl Harbor. I've been living in a world of darkness ever since. But it looks like things are going to change now."

The applause is deafening. Mr. Bush and his people look uncomfortable as Bob Dylan reads the poem 87-year-old Robert Frost composed for Mr. Kennedy's inaugural, but couldn't read because the sun beat down so brightly on the paper:

... It makes the prophet in us all presage
The glory of a next Augustan age
Of a power leading from its strength and pride,
Of young ambition eager to be tried,
Firm in our free beliefs without dismay,
In any game the nations want to play.
A golden age of poetry and power
Of which this noonday's the beginning hour.
Michelle Obama clutches her husband's hand in solidarity. She is on the verge of tears. He is, too. They clear their throats as the chief justice of the Supreme Court approaches. The chief justice moves too fast and too slow at the same time.

The Bible is extended. Barack Obama raises his hand. He smiles, hoping that he never wakes up.

Tony Norman can be reached at [e-mail] or 412-263-1631.

http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/08323/928736-153.stm

[bdamomma]

1. thanks gray warrior

that day can't come any faster, hurry up Jan. 20th.