Embracing What Is Right

Today was quite like Christmas. It was exciting even to wake up and know that it is the day of the inauguration. After taking a shower and writing and reading, then doing the dishes, I went grocery-shopping. At length Ge. and J. were at home again (Gi. was at home anyway), and then Uncle Pu came for a visit. I turned on the television, though it was over half an hour before the swearing-in ceremony was due to occur, and then found myself unexpectedly enjoying the chatter of the hosts, because the BBC World correspondents in Washington seem to be the pick of the lot. There was nice dry British wit and momentary flashes of intelligence, and the clichés were not as inane as usual.

We ate pretzels and drank Coke and watched the spectacle. The Americans are good at spectacles. I liked every flag, every soldier at attention, every carefully planned gesture; the booming sound; and the sheer vastness of the sea of people, tinted red by the flags that they waved, that flooded in segments along the National Mall was deeply stirring, as were the intricate tiers of white colonnades on the Capitol. I liked the sincere happiness and the good-humoured perseverance that people showed in waiting in the cold for hours without devolving into a snarling tangle. There were some two million of them.

During the swearing-in ceremony I liked the appearances of Jimmy Carter, who was quite brisk and unaffected, and of Ted Kennedy; the way that Malia and Sasha would stop bowing their heads and looking meditative if a prayer bored them; the almost tearful pride with which Michelle Obama watched her husband taking his oath on the Lincoln Bible; the moved faces in the audience (which often put me in danger of being a little weepy); even the error that Chief Justice John Roberts made in the oath. I also like the quite snappy and upbeat personality of Jill Biden. Though I am no great fan of Obama's inaugural address, it presented good thoughts as well as the platitudes which could be pronounced by anyone of any political affiliation in any situation, but more importantly he delivered it with such conviction as he warmed up to it that at least this feeling of conviction was stirring and inspiring. (And after it Pudel uncorked the bottle of champagne — all right, sparkling wine — and we toasted the new president.) What was very good in its understated way was his brief and sober speech later, during the inaugural lunch, which was overshadowed by Ted Kennedy's seizure. Then, when the parade was rolling down Pennsylvania Avenue, he was his customary genial self, no longer as determinedly stately or as nervous as before.

It was a little disappointing that George W. Bush spent his last minutes in office visibly ill at ease, instead of displaying gravitas or absorption or even pleasure in the proceedings, whereas Dick Cheney, who is in my view the greater villain, went out stoically. It was not, however, disappointing that Cheney was in a wheelchair. He has been compared to Mr. Potter of It's a Wonderful Life and to Dr. Strangelove. No further comment. The sight of the helicopter soaring off and carrying Bush and his "good bride" into hopeful obscurity was also a thing of beauty and a joy forever.

What I may have liked most of all is the benediction by Rev. Joseph Lowery, who was once a civil rights leader. It was original, cogent and passionate, and I loved the humour at the end.

Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get back, when brown can stick around, when yellow will be mellow, when the red man can get ahead, man, and when white will embrace what is right. That all those who do justice and love mercy say Amen. [The crowd replies, "Amen!"] Say Amen. ["Amen!"]

At home we feasted on hamburgers and French (not freedom) fries; our decorations were a streamer of crepe paper in red, white, and blue as well as pinwheels in the same colours; and we sang, in honour of le roi who is mort, "Ding, Dong, the Witch Is Dead," and in honour of le roi who vive, and of his country, we sang "My Country, 'Tis of Thee" and "America the Beautiful" and "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" (i.e. "Mine eyes have seen the coming . . ."). Earlier on Papa had played one or both of the first two anthems on the piano, and later I played the beginning of Beethoven's variations on the theme of "God Save the Queen" (which, of course, has the same melody as "My Country, 'Tis of Thee"). The Hallelujah chorus from Händel's Messiah came to mind, but seemed a little blasphemous.

What truly characterized the D.C. celebration is, I believe, that the pomp and circumstance were heartfelt and human, which is not often the case with state events, and that it was a celebration to a significant extent by the people, for the people. Over a million ordinary Americans of all ages attended; the military and law enforcement were represented in large numbers; volunteers and professionals in the hundreds or thousands organized and carried out the logistics; the press was there and by extension so was the scrutiny of hundreds of millions of other people around the world; the politicians were out in the public eye. And all of these people met in the core of a city on a freezing day in the nadir of winter. So one can grumble about cults of personality and unreasonably high expectations all one wants; it was a great day in every sense of the word.