Inaguration: I was at the NE corner of the Washington Monument

Sunlight at noon and air crisp enough to remind you that every breath matters; blue skies and human masses; strong, well-organized, poetic language – language that resonates and will resonate for decades; citizens united to succeed, and we, white/black/asian/Indian/and all the tribes in between, stand at command. We cannot fail. We will not fail.

We believe, and because we believe, so it is. That is what faith looks like; that is the power of faith. Not some external force but the absolute conviction within.

I had wanted to be present. I live not far away. But, in an ironic turn of circumstance, I am one of the unemployed to whom President Obama speaks. As fate would have it, I had received a notice that my benefits had been suspended (since the very first week, so I grow a little lean in the bank account at this point) because one of my employers had categorized my leaving as a “voluntary quit.”

The brief story is that it was not a “quit” but rather a contract that had expired. However, the DLLR had scheduled to interview me by phone, home phone, at 11:30AM on January 20th. Despite multiple attempts to reach them to request that my phone number of record be changed to my cell phone, I failed to ever be connected to anyone. The consequences of missing the phone call are that benefits are cancelled.

Benefits are not a lot of money compared to my previous income, but they are the difference between depleting my savings in 60 days rather than six months. Significant. Especially in these times.

Throughout the morning, I wandered past three televisions; one set to CNN, one to Channel 2 (my second family Charlie, Diane, Robin), and the Today show – different networks on each floor of my townhome. Friends had told me they were going, invited me to go; other friends were gathering elsewhere; Annapolis had an event at the State Capital but I had to be within arm’s reach of my telephone, my miniscule shackle. It was nothing.

The interview call came early and the DLLR employee wanted to be on the telephone with me no more than I wanted to be on the phone with him, yet we found common purpose. The matter was quickly resolved.

Sara phoned, whispering into the phone of her plans to find a place where she could witness this moment. She sees it, feels it; Sara is the change. We shared our unbridled enthusiasm in whispers. Another friend tweeted his whereabouts in DC. So when President Obama placed his hand on Lincoln’s bible, I stood in my living room, and pandiculated as if Rip van Winkle himself had just woken. In a syncratic moment I felt Sara beside me and I was transported to the northwest corner of the Washington Monument. I breathed in the press of fleece and wool, the words reverberated, and heartbeats - singular and collective thrummed, and an absolute understanding streamed through us that we were all part of a powerful surge of human spirit, American spirit, relentless even when daunted.

Tomorrow, I will wake, take care of myself and mine, and look around and see what else is possible. Undaunted, determined, and reaching, stretching as far as I can.