My inauguration was a bit frustrating, less than the momentous experience I was hoping for. I wanted to go down earlier, but my friends convinced me we could still get on the mall even if we didn't get up at 5 a.m., and alas, they were wrong. We got turned away. The mall was shut down by like 8:30 or 9. Hundreds of people were stuck in sort of no-man's land, not on the mall but not on the parade route either. Bleh. So we were lucky and had tickets to a Democratic Leadership Committee parade watch party, where we watched the inaug on TV and were served limitless champagne and oysters and bacon--wrapped scallops, etc. Not exactly the authentic and hard-fought experience of the common man rejoicing in this very uncommon moment of history. But, I suppose, it was moving wherever you were, and I did have some sort of inaug experience, even if it wasn't the one I had imagined. We did get to see the parade--we were right along the route, on 15th near the corner with Pennsylvania--and I did see the Man himself walk down the street. So... something.
Ric, what is the cure for deep pangs of historical regret? Why wasn't I on the mall? What can I do to stop asking myself that? Maybe you should post that: Why weren't we all on the mall? Or why aren't we all out there in our own ways, making history?
--Kathy Crutcher
Writer, Teacher, Philosopher
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