The ground has shifted

Undoubtedly, it all started with that speech.

It’s a pretty indisputable fact that when Barack Obama delivered the keynote address at the 2004 Democratic National Convention, he catapulted himself into the spotlight with his hopeful message and impressive oratory. I would often link to that speech in my AIM away message, with the caption “I want this man to be my president.” After repeated re-watchings on Youtube, I asked for his books for Christmas 2006 and read them over winter break (the first, Dreams from my Father, a memoir written long before anyone had heard of Obama, is much better than the politicized second). I have liked Barack Obama for a long time.

I’m a little surprised, in retrospect, that I didn’t fully support his candidacy for president at first. It’s not that I didn’t want him to be president. On the contrary, I very much longed for a president with Obama’s qualities. But I was worried that the timing was wrong, that any new president (particularly a Democrat) would be burdened beyond all reasonable hope of success by Bush’s rotten legacy of trouble, at home and abroad. I wanted Obama to be president, but I wanted him to have an easier time of it.

When Obama declared his intentions to run anyway, I warily supported him. But as I watched him deftly maneuver the many challenges of the long primary campaign, it became apparent that he was able to take the high road and still come out on top. Faced with mounting negative attacks, he managed to harness the ideas of optimism and hope into a coherent platform. I realized that it was less Obama’s personal stance on issues, but more his measured, respectful approach to solving them that appealed so greatly to me.

Confronted with controversy over Rev. Jeremiah Wright, Obama used a televised speech to open a dialogue on race in America, and how it had impacted his life. He selected Joe Biden as running mate, someone without much flashy upside, but who’s unquestionably qualified for the vice presidency. And in September, as the economy collapsed and John McCain and Sarah Palin “suspended their campaign,” Obama was reassuring, committed to thoughtful action without melodramatic flair.

The closing lines of that 2004 DNC speech are:

If we do what we must do, then I have no doubt, that all across the country, from Florida to Oregon, from Washington to Maine, the people will rise up in November and John Kerry will be sworn in as president, and John Edwards will be sworn in as vice president, and this country will reclaim its promise. And out of this long political darkness, a brighter day will come.

A powerful end to a moving speech, to be sure, but wrong in one basic way: John Kerry lost that election. And after four additional years of “political darkness,” Obama positioned himself perfectly to be that brightening change. Because he is both brilliant and pragmatic, he would have likely made a compelling presidential candidate at any point in time. But 2008 was his moment. All that came to a head two weeks ago, on January 20.

We began the day early, at 3:35 am. I took a picture of the green numbers on my alarm clock so that I would remember this. After wolfing down a bagel and donning a thermal underwear suit (think Marshmallow Man) plus no fewer than four supplementary layers, ten of us (each with a buddy – mine was Steve) trekked to the Metro and rode to L’Enfant Plaza. Even at 4:30, the train was pretty crowded, and the horde of people waiting to exit the station was stunning. Every 2 minutes or so, an 8 car train would roll in, and dump out hundreds of people. Just as these people were beginning to thin, another train would arrive.

We risked an elevator ride and joined an endless column of people, marching up 7th St. from the station to the National Mall. Turning onto the Mall, next to the Air and Space Museum, was somewhat surreal. It was very dark and very cold, and the Capitol and the Washington Monument were lit up beautifully. Port-a-potties lined each side and shadowy jumbotrons rose out of the ground every hundred yards or so, flanked by epileptic-looking spotlights. The crowd fanned out and we continued walking until we ran up against people who were no longer moving. We stood around for awhile, until people closed in behind us as well. With a decent view of a jumbotron and the Capitol, we placed our blankets on the ground and sat. It was 5:00, then.

The next several hours are fairly indistinguishable. Joe, Josh, and David napped/spooned on the ground for warmth. We played a Caryn-style game, going around in a circle naming a celebrity whose first name began with the first letter of the last name of the previous person (doubles, like Barry Bonds, caused the order to reverse). I sent a few texts and took way too many blurry photos of the darkened scene. Sometime during this period, streams of people began picking their way horizontally across the Mall to get to the port-a-potties. This was difficult because a) people were laying sprawled all over the place, covered in blankets and newspapers and each other and b) it was still very dark. Most people just apologetically stepped on you (followed by 20 other people searching for a path), but one man, leading his children, cleared the way by chanting “YES WE CAN… get to the porta-potty!”

As the sun rose, people began to move a little. The journey to the bathroom became less perilous and you could see more of the characters around you. There was the loud man in the Steelers hat, boisterously talking on his cell phone (bet he’s happy now, too). A clump of people, maybe from a church, huddled to our left, singing lots of songs very loudly and very poorly. The family behind us was represented by at least three generations of bundled up people, braving the toe-numbing cold to be a part of the day.

American flag-print hats were very, very prominent, as were American flags themselves, thanks to the boy scouts roaming around with boxes full of them. They replayed the concert from the prior Sunday on the jumbotrons, and I managed to speak to my mom on the phone before losing cell service for about seven hours. We also spotted snipers crawling all over the roofs of the Smithsonian museums, although I was surprised that we hadn’t had to pass through any type of security.

Around 10:30 or so, the VIPs began marching in. We watched this with some interest, and with hilarious commentary from David (“Look at the way Bill moves around, greeting people. Hillary just stands there clapping and pointing, pretending that she’s spotted someone in the crowd”). I booed Bush’s entry (although this was a less spiteful moment than I expected) and loved watching Cheney wheeled in, decrepitly clutching his cane after an accident “moving boxes.” Occasionally the sound system would pick up a strange sound, like Hillary’s cackle or someone telling John McCain, “I love your mom!”

The actual ceremony was over quickly. Aretha Franklin sang “My Country ‘Tis of Thee,” sounding emotional, if a little thin in the cold air. Biden was sworn in. Yo Yo Ma and Itzhak Perlman performed a piece. Both Chief Justice John Roberts and Obama flubbed the oath, which made the crowd collectively gasp. But it was forgotten when he said, “Congratulations, Mr. President” and the band struck up “Hail to the Chief,” none of which we could really hear that well, because everyone was screaming. Gloved hands made clapping ineffective, so everyone settled for waving those boy scout flags in the air.

After the inaugural address, which was great, there was lots of hugging and picture taking. Our group split up at this point, but a few of us lingered to listen to a lackluster poet and a hilarious benediction. Garbage and empty hand-warmer wrappers covered the Mall. The journey to Jimmy’s house that followed was longer than this blog posting and involved lots of evasive detours to avoid closed streets and the multi-block crowds surrounding all Metro stations. It ended with three pizzas, though, followed by a less-hectic than expected Metro ride home around 6:00pm.

In 2004, after glumly watching the election returns, Grant, a college dorm floor-mate, turned wryly to me and said, “Well, maybe Obama in ’08?” At the time, this seemed like an impossibly ridiculous idea, fancifully borne of being deflated by Bush’s victory. Even after following the long campaign, and feeling moved by the gravity of voting this past November, I had absolutely no idea just how gratifying the fulfillment of that offhanded wish would be. President Barack Hussein Obama.

Hail to the Chief.