It's now 11:15. I think we need to make a decision. Mimi can't take the crush of people and we decide to give it up and leave the line. Mimi sees a member of the Pink Brigade and thinks we can make it to their headquarters to watch it. My heart won't let me settle for watching it on T.V. I could have stayed home to do that. I have to be there. I ask the lieutenant if the security is as stringent farther back. He says no. I'm out. Mimi, Sharon and I hug each other then separate.
I start walking up from 3rd Avenue. I don't even try the first one. I couldn't even get there if I wanted to. The streets are packed with people. I figure if I start trying around 7th or 8th avenue. I try the first check point to no avail. The crowd gets really thick. I cross the street to make better time. I attempt to cross back around 12th avenue. Well, I do cross the street but not without an army person telling me I couldn't cross here. "Mam, mam you can't cross here." She actually grabbed my arm. I just kept walking, thinking that there were a lot more important things to worry about than me crossing the street. I'm right and she doesn't pursue me any more. It's really packed near the second checkpoint near 12th. I push my way through the crowd and make a plea to the guards. I pull out my ticket and explain the situation at the gate; they have heard about it. I look really pitiful and they let me in! Probably because I was alone and the thought might have been, what's one more. I get through the screening quickly and join the crowd right about the time Aretha Franklin was singing.
I'm on the edge and make my way a few feet into the crowd. Let me make my description of what I saw very brief. I saw the United States of America. Imagine anyone you can imagine and I believe they were there. One woman stands with the assistance of her walker. Lots of parents with babies and children on their shoulders. A woman is holding a picture of a loved one. There are flags everywhere. Groups of young people. One young man asks if there is an inauguration if President Obama is re-elected four years from now. "Yes" I say. "Then I'll be back in four years then." he confirms.
Many are on cell phones or texting. I am not really nimble at texting so I try to call family and friends but the calls are lost. Not until I see the images later on T.V. do I truly understand the enormity of the crowd.
A man in the crowd says "Here we go" as Senator Joe Biden stands to take his oath as Vice-President. There is loud cheering, raised arms and pumping of fists after he is sworn in. We are excited and anxious. Then there is the beautiful music written by John Williams, that I attributed to Aaron Copeland the other day. They were actually practicing when we were there on Monday. A perfect prelude to the president's swearing in.
Then, it's time. "Quiet, y'all" the same man urges. A mother urges her son to "pull your pants up". The president-elect places his hand on the bible used by Abraham Lincoln for his inauguration, held proudly by his wife. He then says the words.
The most amazing thing I saw in the crowd was the number of people who raised their right hand along with the president. I couldn't take a picture of it because I was doing it too. As he finishes the oath we cheer, shake hands, slap each other on the back, hug each other and some of us cry (Yes, you know I was one of those). No, I didn't know one person there, but we were all there at the moment history was made. No, I did not feel it would happen in my lifetime.
We then listen to his first speech as our president. We have so many expectations for this man and his presidency. This country, this world is looking for a uniting force. He cannot possibly be what we envision him as being, but the reality is that he must be what we need him to be. His speech urges us all to get to work together; to make smart decisions for the good of all. I believe he has those same high expectations for us. Now there are no excuses about about what we can and cannot do. Racism and hate still exist. I think the new president is telling us, so what? Keep it moving. Don't let others define you, work hard, make good decisions and enjoy this life.
After the ceremony we all inch our way out of the mall. And I do mean inch. The river of people send you in one direction whether you want to do it or not. I go with the flow. I head towards the Washington monument and end up on 18th and Connecticut. It takes me over two hours to walk from the mall around 12th ave to 13th and Pennsylvania. One because there are so many people and two because there are so many closed streets. I am on my way to view the parade from the offices of the Council of Great City Schools.
(Next Part 3 The Ball)
Here I Go Again
On October 24th, 2005, civil rights icon Rosa Parks passed away at age 92. The following Saturday, October 29th, I was sitting in the Columbia City library reading a story in the Seattle Times that announced Ms. Parks would be "laying in honor" at the U.S. Capitol building in Washington D.C for next two days. Ms. Parks was the first woman and first civilian so honored. I went home, bought a ticket and flew to D.C. the next morning. I journaled the experience and shared it with my school community upon my return. (See below)
On Saturday, Jan 17th I will be flying to the east coast to attend some inauguration activities of the 44th president of these United States, another first.
I truly am a pen to paper kind of writer, but I've decided to try to blog my experiences and share them with you all. I invite you to share this with me. I will be blogging at least once a day beginning Wednesday, January 14th.
On Saturday, Jan 17th I will be flying to the east coast to attend some inauguration activities of the 44th president of these United States, another first.
I truly am a pen to paper kind of writer, but I've decided to try to blog my experiences and share them with you all. I invite you to share this with me. I will be blogging at least once a day beginning Wednesday, January 14th.
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Inauguration Pictures
In The Crowd
The F.B.I
Rosa Journal
Sunday, October 30, 2005 1:00 p.m. (PST)
I’m taking this trip because I feel I must. I’m not usually an impulsive person, but when I found out Saturday that Rosa Parks would lie in honor at our nation’s capitol rotunda, I bought an airline ticket to Washington, D.C.
Because I will miss a day of school I have assigned myself the task of journaling this experience to share with Meany staff and students. Do with this what you will.
Sunday, October 30, 2005 8:45 p.m. (EST)
I share a limo coming in to DC with two other people. One young lady from San Francisco starting a job tomorrow and a young man from Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada. He sells industrial robotics. “Mostly crawlers and pipe inspectors” he says.
The limo driver tells me that tomorrow, the day I was planning to see Ms. Parks, the viewing will only take place from 7 a.m. to 10 a.m. He says lines have been long. This evening the viewing goes on until midnight.
I’m going as soon as I get checked in.
I call my husband to tell him I’ve arrived safely. I don’t tell him about the neighborhood or the accommodations because he would worry.
Sunday, October 30, 2005 9:30 p.m. (EST)
At the desk I ask Ludi (not his real name), the night manager, the best way to get to the capitol. He looks at me and for a moment it seems as if he is going to give me lengthy directions to the bus. He even points in the direction of the bus stop, that I find out later is only a block away, but he looks me up and down, sizes me up as an out of town bumpkin and says, “You need to take a cab.” He gives me explicit directions. “I’ll call the cab, you go outside, to the curb, and raise your hand real high”
I’m no hick; I’ve been to New York City for gosh sake! So, I do exactly as instructed and amazingly a cab appears.
Sunday, October 30, 2005 10:00 p.m. (EST)
In line with approximately 25,000 others. I join the line on Third and Pennsylvania Avenue. I ask the man in front of me if we’re going to make it in tonight. Confidently, he said, “Yes, sista, we’re all going to make it in.”
From my vantage point there are people in lines as far as I can see. The lines snake in and out. Movement is steady, so we don’t stand in one place for more than a few seconds. At some points in the route the lines zigzag back in forth in a small space. It gives it the appearance of a busy colony of ants.
Streets are cordoned off. DC Police cars, Capitol Police cars and black SUV’s are everywhere. One car is marked K-9 unit, but we never see any dogs. Fences, wooden barricades and yellow tape mark the route that takes us on this maze of a journey. There are aid cars. There are industrious entrepreneurs who have parked their food vans near.
Interestingly, there is no one selling any Rosa paraphernalia, no T-Shirts, or books or posters, nothing. Though there are no flower vendors, many, many people carry them.
If you’ve ever been in line with people for more than five minutes you know that…conversation happens.
I met Larry. He works at Southwest Airlines. He informed me that though Ms. Parks’ casket came in on South West around 6 p.m. this evening and she was scheduled to be in place at the rotunda at that time, but didn’t arrive until after 7.
Larry kept saying, “Do you believe this? This is unbelievable”. He’d shake his head in amazement at the river of people winding their way to see this courageous woman.
I met Ms. Kitty and her friend Bernice. At eighty, she walked gingerly with a cane, called me Ms. Seattle and told me “If Rosa could sit down for me, I can stand up for her.”
Kenji, Ms. Kitty’s granddaughter, let me wear her scarf, because wearing only a light jacket; I was clearly unprepared for a “crisp” east coast night.
Deborah, Kenji’s mom is the comedian of the group. She really reminds me of my older sister.
Luis brought ten members of his family. After speaking to a capitol police officer he informs everyone, within in earshot, that since there were so many people, the viewing would continue until everyone has a chance to pay their respects to Ms. Parks. Quietly, he told his daughter, “The coolest thing about this night is that now you can tell your children you were here.”
Sunday, October 30, 2005 11:30 p.m. (EST) 1.5 hrs
The capitol looks so far away. (Deep sigh here)
There are children in strollers, in their parent’s arms and walking hand in hand. There are college students, high schools students and middle school students. There are young adults, senior citizens, people in wheel chairs, with walkers and canes. I hear people speaking Spanish, Yiddish, French, and what I think is Hindi? People are dressed in their Sunday best, jeans, African garb and most everything else. Muslims, Christians, Jews and Buddhists are here. The world is well represented.
Monday, October 31, 2005 12:30 a.m. (EST) 2.5 hrs
People are singing songs, talking about movies and how Rosa Parks, even in death, has been able to bring us all here together. Some people use their cell phones to call friends and family member urging them to “Get down here, you won’t believe this”. Clearly this is a celebration.
I call my friend Kathryn and try to describe what I am witnessing, but words failed me.
Kathryn and I joke about black people being late for everything, when I told her Rosa was an hour late for her own viewing.
In my lifetime I do not recall any dignitary who has had three memorial services. Ms. Parks will have at least that many. She’s already had one in Montgomery, Alabama, she has the viewing today and tomorrow here, another memorial service tomorrow here in DC at the Metropolitan AME church and will have a service on Wednesday in Detroit, Michigan which will be her final resting place.
I think it’s fitting because Ms. Parks spent the first half of her life in Montgomery and the second in Detroit. I believe Ms. Parks moved to Detroit in 1957, two years after the bus boycott. She was fired from her job because of her involvement in the civil rights movement and both she and her husband could find no other work in Montgomery.
I am grateful that this second stop in the funeral procession was added. Well over a million people will have had the opportunity to be a part of this experience by the time she is laid to rest.
Monday, October 31, 2005 1:00 a.m. (EST) 3 hrs
A police captain greets us along the route with “Thank you for your patience and cooperation. Tens of thousands of your fellow citizens have already gone through; you will all see Ms. Parks tonight.”
Larry jokingly says, “We knew that, Luis already told us three hours ago.” Luis gives the big thumbs up.
Deborah asks the officer, “What number am I? What number am I?” The officer laughs and says, ”You made me lose count, now I’ll have to start again.” He gets serious and says, “This crowd is comparable to the Reagan viewing”
I’m thinking. He was a president. She was a seamstress.
Monday, October 31, 2005 2:00 a.m. (EST) 4 hrs
We’re delirious now. We say stupid stuff and laugh loudly at things, we acknowledge, we wouldn’t normally think was very funny. Some folks are recalling lines from “The Color Purple” and “Coming to America.” One group is discussing the character development of “J.J.”, from the old TV series “Goodtimes”. Where else would anyone have the time or the desire to discuss “J.J.”?
We are in the first “ant” section now, back and forth, back and forth. Thinking aloud I say “It feels like we’re in line for the Pirates of the Caribbean.” (I actually get a laugh for that. Remember, its 2 a.m.)
As these hours have passed very, very few leave the line. Sadly Luis and his family are casualties. His daughter’s asthma is causing her problems and they forgot her inhaler. He walks away with her in his arms. We all wish them well. His niece says, “He is so sad.”
Monday, October 31, 2005 3:00 a.m. (EST) 5 hrs
One young man is being bolstered by his father with encouraging words. “If I was eight years old and my father had me doing this, I would have lost it long ago son. You’re a real trooper.” The crowd around him applauds loudly. He smiles, hugs his father’s leg and then buries his face in his father’s thigh.
As we near a white tent we see garbage cans over flowing with flowers and candles. A sign near the tent tells visitors that no paraphernalia including flowers, cards, etc. is allowed in the capitol building.
I think it’s a waste, but Kenji says, “It doesn’t matter, because we are Rosa’s tens of thousands of flowers."
Monday, October 31, 2005 3:30 a.m. (EST) 5.5 hrs
As we get closer to the capitol building we get quieter. There is no silliness now. As we line up to go through the metal detector, we whisper. As we enter the rotunda we are silent except for the many "thank yous".
The honor guard stands at attention. Ms. Parks', simple, highly polished coffin seems alone and lonely there in the middle of the room. Four large wreaths strategically placed near her coffin look identical except for the writing on the ribbons. I pass by three. One reads “The House of Representatives of the United States of America”, another “The Senate of the United States of America”, the other reads, “The president of the United States of America”. I don’t think Ms. Parks would have had everything so sterile. I think she would have wanted to be covered by roses and lilies and carnations from the people of the United States of America.
And then …. We leave. After our brief moment in the rotunda we mingle with others in the foyer. We have been re-energized. We smile and hug each other and take pictures of/with our new comrades. We say goodbye to Larry. He has to be at work in an hour and a half.
Deborah offers to take me back to my hotel. I accept because it would be hard to find a cab at 3:45 in the morning. On our way out a young man comes up to us to ask us where the line starts. We point and he joins the river.
Monday, October 31, 2005 4:00 a.m. (EST)
The night manager is still at the counter. “I was worried about you. You just getting back?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see her?”
“Yes.” I say. “I’ve never walked for five hours for anyone or any thing, but I did tonight.”
He smiles and nods his head. (Hey, at least I’m not a bumpkin anymore.)
He asks me if I want a wake up call in the morning. I tell him yes, about 6 a.m. then I realize it’s already 4 and I ask him for a 7 a.m. wake up.
Monday, October 31, 2005 4:15 a.m. (EST)
In my room. I’m exhausted. I’m excited. I’m gone.
Monday, October 31, 2005 7:00 a.m. (EST)
The call comes. I sleep another hour and miss the continental breakfast, oh well. I shower, (I’ve got toothpaste, but forgot my toothbrush. Use the finger), dress and check out. I take a taxi to the Jefferson Memorial. It’s about 9 a.m.
Monday, October 31, 2005 9:00 a.m. (EST)
On this sunny morning I just want to sit and ponder what this has meant to me and I feel Jefferson’s words will help me frame it.
I am the only visitor here. There are some renovations going on and I fear the memorial is closed until I climb the marble steps and see a small sign below some scaffolding that says “Visitor Access”. I’m in!
Jefferson wrote:
“I am not an advocate for the frequent changes in laws and constitutions. But laws and institutions must go hand in hand with the progress of the human mind. As that becomes more developed, more enlightened, as more discoveries are made, new truths discovered and manner and opinions change, with the change of circumstances; institutions must advance also to keep pace with the times. We might as well require a man to wear still the coat which fitted him when a boy as civilized society to remain ever under the regimen of their barbarous ancestors.”
People like Rosa Parks enlighten us. They help us discover new truths. I don’t think Ms. Parks believed that when she said “No” she was going to have the impact on history that she has had, but she knew something had to change.
She wanted to help change this country’s “barbarous regimen” and she did. She did not harm one human, she wore no armor nor did she sling any contemptuous rhetoric.
Amazing.
Monday, October 31, 2005 10:00 a.m. (EST)
I walk from the memorial to the Washington Monument, then on to L’Enfant Plaza. I remember Ludi’s instructions on how to catch the bus to the airport. A cab to Dulles Airport costs $55.00! My roundtrip ticket that will take me about 4,596 miles plus one night stay only cost $370.00. I don’t feel like paying approximately 15% of that to go thirty miles. A little estimation for you math buffs. (Okay I’m cheap).
Anyway, I get to L’Enfant Plaza and of course I am on the wrong side of the complex and have to run, picture that, down an escalator, past the train, up another escalator then “Take a U turn, it’s on the street and it leaves in 5 minutes.” Two station attendants are very nice and allow me to cut through two emergency exits to reach my destination on time. I get there, the bus rolls up. I get on and do not have the required “Fare Pass” or correct change and I say those exact words to the driver. “I’m trying to get to Dulles, I don’t have a pass and I do not have exact change.” He takes pity on me and lets me on anyway.
Monday, October 31, 2005 12:45 p.m. (EST)
I bought a Washington Post this afternoon in the airport. Rosa’s casket is on the front page with the headline. “Thousands Honor Courage of Rosa Parks”. I read a caption beneath a picture of people filing by. It read “A hushed crowd passes by Parks’ coffin inside the capitol rotunda which was quiet except for the shuffling of feet and murmurings of thank you.”
I lost it.
I started crying right there on the shuttle to the C gates. It’s the first time I’ve cried since I started this journey. Though last night was an emotional shared experience that connected me to the thousands of people I stood in line with, this new connection was experienced alone. I didn’t have Ms. Kitty or Larry or Luis. Kenji wasn’t there to hold me up nor was Deborah there to make me laugh. It was me alone understanding that what I was feeling, what drew me to this place was exactly the same thing that had drawn every person who has paid or will pay their respects in Montgomery, Washington DC and Detroit and to every person who could not take the journey but holds Rosa near their heart.
Just a chance to say “Thank You, Rosa.”
Monday, October 31, 2005 8:03 p.m. (PST)
I’m home. My friend Kathryn calls me to thank me for calling her while I was in line. She said it made her feel like she was a part of it all. She was. Now you are.
Peace.
I’m taking this trip because I feel I must. I’m not usually an impulsive person, but when I found out Saturday that Rosa Parks would lie in honor at our nation’s capitol rotunda, I bought an airline ticket to Washington, D.C.
Because I will miss a day of school I have assigned myself the task of journaling this experience to share with Meany staff and students. Do with this what you will.
Sunday, October 30, 2005 8:45 p.m. (EST)
I share a limo coming in to DC with two other people. One young lady from San Francisco starting a job tomorrow and a young man from Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada. He sells industrial robotics. “Mostly crawlers and pipe inspectors” he says.
The limo driver tells me that tomorrow, the day I was planning to see Ms. Parks, the viewing will only take place from 7 a.m. to 10 a.m. He says lines have been long. This evening the viewing goes on until midnight.
I’m going as soon as I get checked in.
I call my husband to tell him I’ve arrived safely. I don’t tell him about the neighborhood or the accommodations because he would worry.
Sunday, October 30, 2005 9:30 p.m. (EST)
At the desk I ask Ludi (not his real name), the night manager, the best way to get to the capitol. He looks at me and for a moment it seems as if he is going to give me lengthy directions to the bus. He even points in the direction of the bus stop, that I find out later is only a block away, but he looks me up and down, sizes me up as an out of town bumpkin and says, “You need to take a cab.” He gives me explicit directions. “I’ll call the cab, you go outside, to the curb, and raise your hand real high”
I’m no hick; I’ve been to New York City for gosh sake! So, I do exactly as instructed and amazingly a cab appears.
Sunday, October 30, 2005 10:00 p.m. (EST)
In line with approximately 25,000 others. I join the line on Third and Pennsylvania Avenue. I ask the man in front of me if we’re going to make it in tonight. Confidently, he said, “Yes, sista, we’re all going to make it in.”
From my vantage point there are people in lines as far as I can see. The lines snake in and out. Movement is steady, so we don’t stand in one place for more than a few seconds. At some points in the route the lines zigzag back in forth in a small space. It gives it the appearance of a busy colony of ants.
Streets are cordoned off. DC Police cars, Capitol Police cars and black SUV’s are everywhere. One car is marked K-9 unit, but we never see any dogs. Fences, wooden barricades and yellow tape mark the route that takes us on this maze of a journey. There are aid cars. There are industrious entrepreneurs who have parked their food vans near.
Interestingly, there is no one selling any Rosa paraphernalia, no T-Shirts, or books or posters, nothing. Though there are no flower vendors, many, many people carry them.
If you’ve ever been in line with people for more than five minutes you know that…conversation happens.
I met Larry. He works at Southwest Airlines. He informed me that though Ms. Parks’ casket came in on South West around 6 p.m. this evening and she was scheduled to be in place at the rotunda at that time, but didn’t arrive until after 7.
Larry kept saying, “Do you believe this? This is unbelievable”. He’d shake his head in amazement at the river of people winding their way to see this courageous woman.
I met Ms. Kitty and her friend Bernice. At eighty, she walked gingerly with a cane, called me Ms. Seattle and told me “If Rosa could sit down for me, I can stand up for her.”
Kenji, Ms. Kitty’s granddaughter, let me wear her scarf, because wearing only a light jacket; I was clearly unprepared for a “crisp” east coast night.
Deborah, Kenji’s mom is the comedian of the group. She really reminds me of my older sister.
Luis brought ten members of his family. After speaking to a capitol police officer he informs everyone, within in earshot, that since there were so many people, the viewing would continue until everyone has a chance to pay their respects to Ms. Parks. Quietly, he told his daughter, “The coolest thing about this night is that now you can tell your children you were here.”
Sunday, October 30, 2005 11:30 p.m. (EST) 1.5 hrs
The capitol looks so far away. (Deep sigh here)
There are children in strollers, in their parent’s arms and walking hand in hand. There are college students, high schools students and middle school students. There are young adults, senior citizens, people in wheel chairs, with walkers and canes. I hear people speaking Spanish, Yiddish, French, and what I think is Hindi? People are dressed in their Sunday best, jeans, African garb and most everything else. Muslims, Christians, Jews and Buddhists are here. The world is well represented.
Monday, October 31, 2005 12:30 a.m. (EST) 2.5 hrs
People are singing songs, talking about movies and how Rosa Parks, even in death, has been able to bring us all here together. Some people use their cell phones to call friends and family member urging them to “Get down here, you won’t believe this”. Clearly this is a celebration.
I call my friend Kathryn and try to describe what I am witnessing, but words failed me.
Kathryn and I joke about black people being late for everything, when I told her Rosa was an hour late for her own viewing.
In my lifetime I do not recall any dignitary who has had three memorial services. Ms. Parks will have at least that many. She’s already had one in Montgomery, Alabama, she has the viewing today and tomorrow here, another memorial service tomorrow here in DC at the Metropolitan AME church and will have a service on Wednesday in Detroit, Michigan which will be her final resting place.
I think it’s fitting because Ms. Parks spent the first half of her life in Montgomery and the second in Detroit. I believe Ms. Parks moved to Detroit in 1957, two years after the bus boycott. She was fired from her job because of her involvement in the civil rights movement and both she and her husband could find no other work in Montgomery.
I am grateful that this second stop in the funeral procession was added. Well over a million people will have had the opportunity to be a part of this experience by the time she is laid to rest.
Monday, October 31, 2005 1:00 a.m. (EST) 3 hrs
A police captain greets us along the route with “Thank you for your patience and cooperation. Tens of thousands of your fellow citizens have already gone through; you will all see Ms. Parks tonight.”
Larry jokingly says, “We knew that, Luis already told us three hours ago.” Luis gives the big thumbs up.
Deborah asks the officer, “What number am I? What number am I?” The officer laughs and says, ”You made me lose count, now I’ll have to start again.” He gets serious and says, “This crowd is comparable to the Reagan viewing”
I’m thinking. He was a president. She was a seamstress.
Monday, October 31, 2005 2:00 a.m. (EST) 4 hrs
We’re delirious now. We say stupid stuff and laugh loudly at things, we acknowledge, we wouldn’t normally think was very funny. Some folks are recalling lines from “The Color Purple” and “Coming to America.” One group is discussing the character development of “J.J.”, from the old TV series “Goodtimes”. Where else would anyone have the time or the desire to discuss “J.J.”?
We are in the first “ant” section now, back and forth, back and forth. Thinking aloud I say “It feels like we’re in line for the Pirates of the Caribbean.” (I actually get a laugh for that. Remember, its 2 a.m.)
As these hours have passed very, very few leave the line. Sadly Luis and his family are casualties. His daughter’s asthma is causing her problems and they forgot her inhaler. He walks away with her in his arms. We all wish them well. His niece says, “He is so sad.”
Monday, October 31, 2005 3:00 a.m. (EST) 5 hrs
One young man is being bolstered by his father with encouraging words. “If I was eight years old and my father had me doing this, I would have lost it long ago son. You’re a real trooper.” The crowd around him applauds loudly. He smiles, hugs his father’s leg and then buries his face in his father’s thigh.
As we near a white tent we see garbage cans over flowing with flowers and candles. A sign near the tent tells visitors that no paraphernalia including flowers, cards, etc. is allowed in the capitol building.
I think it’s a waste, but Kenji says, “It doesn’t matter, because we are Rosa’s tens of thousands of flowers."
Monday, October 31, 2005 3:30 a.m. (EST) 5.5 hrs
As we get closer to the capitol building we get quieter. There is no silliness now. As we line up to go through the metal detector, we whisper. As we enter the rotunda we are silent except for the many "thank yous".
The honor guard stands at attention. Ms. Parks', simple, highly polished coffin seems alone and lonely there in the middle of the room. Four large wreaths strategically placed near her coffin look identical except for the writing on the ribbons. I pass by three. One reads “The House of Representatives of the United States of America”, another “The Senate of the United States of America”, the other reads, “The president of the United States of America”. I don’t think Ms. Parks would have had everything so sterile. I think she would have wanted to be covered by roses and lilies and carnations from the people of the United States of America.
And then …. We leave. After our brief moment in the rotunda we mingle with others in the foyer. We have been re-energized. We smile and hug each other and take pictures of/with our new comrades. We say goodbye to Larry. He has to be at work in an hour and a half.
Deborah offers to take me back to my hotel. I accept because it would be hard to find a cab at 3:45 in the morning. On our way out a young man comes up to us to ask us where the line starts. We point and he joins the river.
Monday, October 31, 2005 4:00 a.m. (EST)
The night manager is still at the counter. “I was worried about you. You just getting back?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see her?”
“Yes.” I say. “I’ve never walked for five hours for anyone or any thing, but I did tonight.”
He smiles and nods his head. (Hey, at least I’m not a bumpkin anymore.)
He asks me if I want a wake up call in the morning. I tell him yes, about 6 a.m. then I realize it’s already 4 and I ask him for a 7 a.m. wake up.
Monday, October 31, 2005 4:15 a.m. (EST)
In my room. I’m exhausted. I’m excited. I’m gone.
Monday, October 31, 2005 7:00 a.m. (EST)
The call comes. I sleep another hour and miss the continental breakfast, oh well. I shower, (I’ve got toothpaste, but forgot my toothbrush. Use the finger), dress and check out. I take a taxi to the Jefferson Memorial. It’s about 9 a.m.
Monday, October 31, 2005 9:00 a.m. (EST)
On this sunny morning I just want to sit and ponder what this has meant to me and I feel Jefferson’s words will help me frame it.
I am the only visitor here. There are some renovations going on and I fear the memorial is closed until I climb the marble steps and see a small sign below some scaffolding that says “Visitor Access”. I’m in!
Jefferson wrote:
“I am not an advocate for the frequent changes in laws and constitutions. But laws and institutions must go hand in hand with the progress of the human mind. As that becomes more developed, more enlightened, as more discoveries are made, new truths discovered and manner and opinions change, with the change of circumstances; institutions must advance also to keep pace with the times. We might as well require a man to wear still the coat which fitted him when a boy as civilized society to remain ever under the regimen of their barbarous ancestors.”
People like Rosa Parks enlighten us. They help us discover new truths. I don’t think Ms. Parks believed that when she said “No” she was going to have the impact on history that she has had, but she knew something had to change.
She wanted to help change this country’s “barbarous regimen” and she did. She did not harm one human, she wore no armor nor did she sling any contemptuous rhetoric.
Amazing.
Monday, October 31, 2005 10:00 a.m. (EST)
I walk from the memorial to the Washington Monument, then on to L’Enfant Plaza. I remember Ludi’s instructions on how to catch the bus to the airport. A cab to Dulles Airport costs $55.00! My roundtrip ticket that will take me about 4,596 miles plus one night stay only cost $370.00. I don’t feel like paying approximately 15% of that to go thirty miles. A little estimation for you math buffs. (Okay I’m cheap).
Anyway, I get to L’Enfant Plaza and of course I am on the wrong side of the complex and have to run, picture that, down an escalator, past the train, up another escalator then “Take a U turn, it’s on the street and it leaves in 5 minutes.” Two station attendants are very nice and allow me to cut through two emergency exits to reach my destination on time. I get there, the bus rolls up. I get on and do not have the required “Fare Pass” or correct change and I say those exact words to the driver. “I’m trying to get to Dulles, I don’t have a pass and I do not have exact change.” He takes pity on me and lets me on anyway.
Monday, October 31, 2005 12:45 p.m. (EST)
I bought a Washington Post this afternoon in the airport. Rosa’s casket is on the front page with the headline. “Thousands Honor Courage of Rosa Parks”. I read a caption beneath a picture of people filing by. It read “A hushed crowd passes by Parks’ coffin inside the capitol rotunda which was quiet except for the shuffling of feet and murmurings of thank you.”
I lost it.
I started crying right there on the shuttle to the C gates. It’s the first time I’ve cried since I started this journey. Though last night was an emotional shared experience that connected me to the thousands of people I stood in line with, this new connection was experienced alone. I didn’t have Ms. Kitty or Larry or Luis. Kenji wasn’t there to hold me up nor was Deborah there to make me laugh. It was me alone understanding that what I was feeling, what drew me to this place was exactly the same thing that had drawn every person who has paid or will pay their respects in Montgomery, Washington DC and Detroit and to every person who could not take the journey but holds Rosa near their heart.
Just a chance to say “Thank You, Rosa.”
Monday, October 31, 2005 8:03 p.m. (PST)
I’m home. My friend Kathryn calls me to thank me for calling her while I was in line. She said it made her feel like she was a part of it all. She was. Now you are.
Peace.
This is such a great blog! I saw it on the Seattle Times... I think you'll really appreciate the video / photo essay I put together for the inauguration.
ReplyDeleteFor the past week, I've been asking hundreds of people to pick a word to represent how they feel about the Inauguration of Barack Obama. I gave people 26 words to choose from including "Proud," "Love," "Skeptical," and "Hopeful." Then I took their portraits with the words.
http://www.emilytroutman.blogspot.com
or http://vimeo.com/2895468 (high def)
I made a special trip to Wolfe Street Academy in Baltimore where my sister is a teacher. The kids call Barack Obama "Rock Obama". So great.
Best, Emily
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ReplyDeleteThis blog is great! I love the fact that you said you saw the United States of America in the crowd. I kept watching all the media shows and everytime they panned the crowd, I wanted to be there. I'm so glad you got in! I can not wait to read about the ball!
ReplyDeleteSo glad you got in - I was in the Blue line and never got in. I didn't get to see any of it at all, not a bit - since as you know they had no Tv's set up. I love your description of the crowd during the swearing in, as all I got to see of the crowd was this scene: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k3GsUIjOjQg
ReplyDeleteI am the one in the brown hood and fur trim that the gate closes on at minute 2:03. So so close, but no cigar. And we arrived at 8:00 I think. Anyway - My husband Will met you on the plane on the way back from DC and told me about your blog. I am writing because I am hosting a re-do party on President's day in Seattle on Capitol Hill. I'd like to invite anyone else you know who may not have gotten in, or just wants to see it again. I still haven't watched or seen any of the ceremony, it was too painful to reflect on having missed it due to terrible planning on the part of the organizers - but I think to watch it with others as a festive party will be the perfect way to let go of the crushing disappointment I've felt.
I can be reached at imaginelisette@gmail.com - can send along the evite. Thanks!