The End of the Beginning

President Barack Obama

Obama has taken the oath of office, delivered his inaugural address, accompanied the Bushes to their helicopter (maybe so we could watch to be sure he was really leaving), and now he is at a luncheon with members of Congress, and they are calling him President Obama. I have been a faithful CNN observer of this whole drama since the beginning of the beginning, and now there is no reason for me not to get in the car and go to the grocery store.  I have witnessed the end of the beginning.  Obama must now be given time to take a deep breath before the beginning of the rest. And, as his daughter said, “This better be good.”

I feel a little silly admitting this, but I sat in front of the TV all morning with my point and shoot camera in hand, and I am now the possessor of a hundred or more pictures of my TV set. It might not be the next best thing to being there, but it’s what I’ve got.  That and a million thoughts running through my head.

I think America is ready to come back.  We had a period of time when we the people were a little too self-absorbed to keep an observant eye on our government, and we have a big mess to show for our actions, or rather, lack of actions.  Barack Obama is not going to save us, but he is the right leader  for a people who are ready to save themselves.  I want to do that.  It’s what I want for my grandchildren.  It’s what I want for the people who have gone before, and worked and sacrificed for the sake of our unspeakably brilliant democracy.

As I watched the helicopter leave Washington, I called my friend Elizabeth to see if she had been able to see any of the morning’s events.  She was watching at that very moment. I told her how I had documented everything and she laughed at me.  She said she thought Chief Justice Roberts had read the oath of office wrong. I said he probably did it on purpose.  We paused in our conversation for a long time, no doubt thinking deep thoughts about democracy, justice and the American way, and then in the same instant we both referred to him using a crude epithet.  Then we laughed and laughed.  We are best friends. Life is good.  Time to begin the rest of it.

I made out my grocery list last night, so I’m off to the grocery store.

The Day Kennedy was Shot

© 3DogStudio              Yellow for Mourning

 

I was busy with household chores this afternoon, paying no attention to the TV quietly playing in the background.  Suddenly it dawned on me that CNN was interviewing the Dr. who had treated Kennedy at Parkland Hospital in Dallas that fateful day, now forty-five years ago tomorrow.

I was a student at the University of Michigan on Friday, November 22, 1963, walking to my 1:00 Spanish class.  It was unusually crowded on the Diag that day, and I was walking behind someone with a radio. It was loud, the voice very serious and the program sounded like some kind of science fiction.  Was I hearing correctly?  What president?  What in the world was that radio program about?  I turned to the right and away from the radio, heading past Hill Auditorium for the Frieze Building and my class.

By the time I got to class it was starting to get crazy.  People were upset and confused.  No one had any information other than that something terrible had happened to the President, maybe he was shot, maybe dead.  Our professor came in late, visibly upset, and told the class in a breaking voice that a shot had been fired at President Kennedy as he rode in a motorcade in Dallas shortly before lunchtime, and that he was near death, or dead. Class was cancelled. 

I wandered over to Slater’s Bookstore, wanting to be with people and hoping to find out that if there had been a shot, the President was OK.  The news that he was dead had not yet been announced.  So we strangers stood together in the bookstore, not wanting to leave, praying for word that the nightmare was over.

But it was just beginning.  Life halted, as we individually and collectively witnessed the drama that would follow over the next few days.  We’ve carried the same images for these forty-five years:  Kennedy slumping over in the backseat, Jacqueline Kennedy climbing on the trunk of the convertible, her pink suit, the repetition of the film clip of the car passing the Book Depository, the look of astonishment on Lee Harvey Oswald’s face when Jack Ruby shot him on live TV as he was led out of the Dallas jail, Lyndon Johnson standing with the President’s widow (still in the pink suit) taking the oath of office, the sad funeral cortege, endless lines of mourners filing past the casket, little John-John Kennedy’s salute.

And it wouldn’t end even then.  Martin Luther King was assassinated in April of 1968, and then Robert Kennedy in June of the same year.  The turbulence of the Civil Rights Movement, the horrible cost of the Viet Nam War and sleaziness of Watergate made it seem like violence, distrust in government, hatred and discrimination had become part of the fabric of our lives.

John F. Kennedy, Jr. had his third birthday three days after the assassination of his father.  Barack Obama was a few days short of two years and four months on November 22, 1963.

Yes, We Can!

Much to my surprise, three days after Tuesday’s vote, I am suffering no withdrawal symptoms from election coverage, as I thought I would be.  I am in a happy, grateful state bordering on euphoria in anticipation of the new direction promised for our country.  In history and in literature, I have always been fascinated by the ordinary people who collide with events and emerge as men and women for all seasons.  I believe our new president elect is such a person.

I’m ready to stand tall again in a world where other nations no longer look at us as a bright star whose lustre has tarnished, where we meet our challenges with determination and optimism, where we never watch in disbelief as the people in an American city go for days without the relief of food and water after a natural disaster, where we are not the aggressors in the invasion of another country, where our leaders do not govern in secrecy and our constitutional rights do not erode before our eyes, and where our natural resources and the beauty of our land are not sacrificed to increase the profits of already gigantic corporations. Partisan blaming, however, isn’t in keeping with the new politics, so I will merely observe that it’s a pleasure looking forward to a president who can pronounce the word nuclear, and, oh, so many others so inspiringly and beautifully.

The fascinating soap opera that began with the longest presidential campaign in American history isn’t over just yet.  I can postpone that therapy for withdrawal symptoms.  Yes, I can!

Cold Turkey

 

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I have had CNN turned on for almost two years, keeping track of the most interesting soap opera ever on TV. With only hours left before the last vote is cast in the presidential election of 2008, I am already beginning to  dread Wednesday’s withdrawal symptoms. Not only have I forgotten what it is like to have the silence of a house without a TV blaring, but I have actually begun to talk to the TV. The first to lament the demise of civility in our society, the things I say to the TV are the epitome of incivility! I keep a stack of paper next to my chair to crumple and throw at the screen, a la Keith Olbermann.

My heart breaks (I’m kidding) for the talking heads, pollsters, surrogates, pundits, analysts, strategists and endorsers who will soon join the already frightening numbers of the unemployed.  Cable broadcast stations will find themselves with no viewers.  Sarah Palin will have to return her wardrobe. Geo. W. Bush will be allowed to leave the White House.  Bill Clinton will face a lonely retirement when we all realize we just don’t care. Legions of public figures will look in the mirror and wonder what they were thinking, to say what they said on national TV, and whether anyone will remember, or should they begin insisting they were misquoted? Ignore the fact that their rantings were recorded on video tape. Where will the crowds go to boo and shout, “Drill, Baby, Drill?” We’ll have to deal with our economic problems, instead of just talking about them, and Tina Fey will finally be released from SNL.  At least Joe the Plumber has a new beginning after the election.

Fortunately, CNN recognizes our collective pain, and offers pointers on how to handle problems of withdrawal. Control what you can control. Talk to real people for a change. Turn off the TV. CNN said THAT? If your guy loses, realize that you may be angry for awhile, but, then, channel that anger and do something to improve your own neighborhood. A big bonfire of election signs? If your anger persists, you might want to seek a professional therapist. Who, you ask? Well, Donna Brazile, Leslie Sanchez, Wolf Blitzer, Pat Buchanan, Chris Matthews, to name a few. They should all be available.