I had tickets to go to the inaugural parade. It was more important for me, however, to watch this inauguration with my daughters. It wouldn’t have been easy to take the girls to the parade and probably impossible to take them to the swearing-in so, if I wanted to watch the inauguration with them, then we had to stay home and watch it on television.
There were more obstacles than just parade logistics, however. There was, namely, my daughters’ impatience.
Of course, there was never any expectation that Tristan would understand what was happening. The most I could hope for from her would be that she would be awake at the peak moment and, maybe, would cheer when I cheered, even though it was only because I was cheering, too.
There was an outside chance, however, that Marcel would appreciate what was happening. One hurdle to even that, however, was that Marcel demands that our television always broadcasts, as she puts it, “her shows.”
Another hurdle was that, even if I did get her to acquiesce to allowing me to turn on my show, there was no promise that she would watch it. In fact, there was a real risk that she would leave the room to find some other form of entertainment.
But my new president, who had, at best, only an outside chance when he started this journey nearly two years ago, had inspired me. Thus, with most of my family at the parade route, my daughters and I sat down to watch the swearing-in ceremony.
The parade of speakers and performers went about their solemn duties in joyous fashion. The emotion built moment by moment, on the mall, around the world and, yes, in my heart, as well. It may be impolitic, but for the first time in my adult life, there wasn’t any fear of being foolish for feeling inspired by the American promise.
That isn’t to say that Marcel and Tristan cared–it wasn’t easy to keep them by my side throughout the entire program–but I cared, and so I did keep them by my side as we watched the singers sing, the musicians play and the preacher, the controversial preacher, preach these words:
“Today, we celebrate the hinge point of history with the inauguration of our first African-American president of the United States.”
The crowd responded with a cheer. Then, to my great surprise, Marcel threw a fist in the air and cheered, too. And I felt pride that my young daughter understood the significance of today’s events. Then, however, I felt fear as I wondered how this three and half year-old little girl, who I had hoped had been insulated from the world’s horrors, could know that these words were worth cheering.
Then she turned to me, and with a face filled with a smile as big as her excitement, exclaimed:
“Now, it’s time for my show!”
Yes, child, that day meant that it is, in fact, time for your show.
