Inauguration Day

 
“That little girl was me.”
designed by @briagoelier and @goodtrubble

Today our Vice President Kamala Harris strides into the future alongside the shadow of Ruby Bridges.

"The Problem We All Live With"
by Norman Rockwell 

In 1960, six-year-old Ruby Bridges was escorted by her mother and four U.S. marshals to school every day that school year. She was the first Black child to attend public school in New Orleans, Louisiana, United States of America. 

Sixty years later, how far have we come? It may seem like we haven't come very far at all. With Washington, D.C., filled to the teeth with armed and armored National Guard troops. The Mall is fenced and that part of the city I love is closed to the public. It's not bad enough that America, along with the rest of the world, is besieged by a pandemic, but America in particular is under threat from terrorists born and bred right here. Terrorists just like those that threatened Ruby Bridges. 

Kamal Harris
on the campaign trail

But, you know what? We have come a very long way. Thanks to the courage of those two young New Orleans parents who knew how important it was for all their children and for so many children they didn't know to have a fair and equal chance in the America they believed could be. And to the courage of the two young adults who came to the United States, one from India and one from British Jamaica, to study. They stayed to give their children a chance in the America they believed could be.

I thought my country had taken a giant step away from its shameful, hateful history of racism when Barack Obama was twice elected President of the United States. I was proud of the people who elected him. What's that old saying? "Two steps forward and one step back."

The November 2020 election put us on the right road again. The road to building a country that will share the American Dream with all its people. That shining city on a hill.

Since the election, I've waited for today with a mix of effervescent anticipation and bone-deadening dread.

Dread be damned. 

I will trust the courage of Americans. We will get through this pandemic. We will inaugurate our first woman Vice President. Eventful enough on its own. Add to that, she is a woman of color!

We will not only step up, we will stride forward.

Today is the day.

Stress Relief

.

My last nerve!

I don't know about you, but with the pandemic and the upcoming inauguration, stress sits on my shoulders like a 12-foot, hundred pound python named Charles. It's gotten to the point that I find myself holding my breath doing such death-defying stunts as writing blog posts, getting the dogs back in the house, waiting for the bread's second rise, or trying to go to sleep at night. 

Of course, during the evening, sitting on the couch, watching George Gently -- my current British cop show of choice -- I fall asleep easily. I do miss the ending, but that means I can watch it again and still enjoy the mystery. I do find cop shows very relaxing. First off their focus is narrow, the crime is local and has no far reaching consequences. There's a mystery for me to solve and whether or not I can suss out the whos and whys, the cop on the case does. The villain is apprehended and I'm satisfied there will be a trial, a verdict, and a sentence.

Or I can read a book. Oddly enough, I find nonfiction to be better therapy during these trying days. Fiction seems somehow too frivolous. Yeah, right. What sort of frivolity can I get up to reading narrative histories, or books about theoretical physics? Actually, Shelby Foote's Civil War in three volumes, reassures me that my nation has indeed been in worse straights than it is today. And
S. James Gates, Jr. and Cathie Pelletier's Proving Einstein Right is an engaging travelogue -- scientists' early 20th Century adventures following solar eclipses around the world, doncha know.

I was reading Barack Obama's A Promised Land. It's really quite good. It not only gets into the nuts and bolts of running for office, but why run and what his goals were. I was reminded of Arthur Schlesinger’s Robert Kennedy and His Times which I read some forty years ago. Back then I was inspired that there was hope for a better world and politics could play a positive role in achieving that better world. Then January 6, 2021 and the assault on the United States Capitol.

I needed something else to read. Something as far from politics as possible. So I went back to a book I enjoyed the first time through and each time I've dipped into it since. Dreyer's English: An Utterly Correct Guide to Clarity and Style by Benjamin Dreyer, Random House's Chief Copy Editor.

And you thought the other books I've mentioned would be anything but light reading. Of course, you're right. But Dreyer's English IS light reading. Mr. Dreyer says out loud, or rather in black and white, all those things you've ever thought about English grammar rules. Like his admonition against sentence fragments where he then quotes his "favorite novel opener of all time" from Dickens's Bleak House:

     "London. Michaelmas Term lately over and the Lord Chancellor sitting in Lincoln's Inn Hall.
      Implacable November weather. As much mud in the streets as if the waters had but newly
      retired from the face of the earth, and it would not be wonderful to meet a Megalosaurus,
      forty feet long or so, waddling like an elephantine lizard up Holborn Hill. Smoke lowering
      down from chimney-pots, making a soft black drizzle, with flakes of soot in it as big as
      full-grown snow-flakes -- gone into mourning, one might imagine, for the death of the sun."

The quote runs on for a good, full page. Mr. Dreyer challenges us to count the excerpt's complete sentences and let him know when we get past zero. He enthuses, "Isn't that great? Don't you want to run off and read the whole novel now? Do! I'll wait here for three months." 

That was one of my best laughs of the day when I first read it and it continues to make me laugh every time I read it. Anybody who's ever read Dickens gets it! 

Maybe, after Trump is gone, Biden is safely inaugurated, the fences along the Mall are taken down, and the National Guard Troops have gone home, we can breathe normally again and read whatever we want. Even Dickens.

I Am So Angry

 I am so angry, I could spit.

Why?

This

 

25,000 National Guard troops deployed to Washington, D.C.

to protect the Inauguration of the 46th President of the United States 

and this

National Guard troops and fencing on the Mall

This is Washington, D.C. in January, 2021. This is the capital city of my country. The area around the Capitol complex is normally a beautiful park. The Mall is lined with museums reminding us of our national history -- yes, the dark and shameful parts, but also the great and good. Monuments and memorials celebrate our heroes, the people who faced and fought wars to secure our Republic. And  those who led the fight to extend liberty to all. 

It is a walking city, meaning that it is best seen on foot at human speed. I have always felt safe in its subway system and on its streets at dusk as the lights come on at the Lincoln Memorial or at dawn as I first saw the rising sun streaming across the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.

Razor wire! Razor wire around the Capitol. Subway stations closed and fences across the Mall to keep us out. This is so wrong.

How did this city that I was so proud of come to look like this?

It was because of

This

and chants of "Get Pence" and "Get Pelosi"

And because of these

  

inspired and incited by

his lies

and the politics of hate

His GOP enablers and apologists are also complicit.

Shame on all of them.

Assault on the Capitol

 

This is not Broadway's les Mis.
This is the assault on the Capitol of the United States of America,
my home.

It was yet another "where were you when" moment in my life. I am old. I am from Oklahoma. I am not unique. The only differences between you and me is our ages and where we live. We've seen too many of these moments. Disasters, natural and human-made. As I'm sure they did you, each of these moments frightened me. The human-made ones made me angry. The damage all of them did made me just so sad.

Watching TV. That's where it seems I've been when these moments happened. Of course I wasn't watching TV at the moment most of them happened. I was hunkered down in storm shelters or school basements for too many tornadoes to remember. I was in high school gym class when President Kennedy was shot. In college and working during Vietnam and the Civil Rights Movement. And when Senator Kennedy was shot. When Dr. King was shot. The 1989 San Francisco earthquake. (That one I saw live. I was on maternity leave watching baseball's World Series televised from Candlestick Park.) When the Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City was bombed, I was working. I was in school again when 911 happened. The Iraqi War, Hurricane Katrina. The wild fires. All that and more.

Then 2020, aptly named "The Dumpster Fire Year" by a local TV newscaster. I have been "Safe at Home" since the middle of March. I've always read. A lot. During this nearly a year, I've read more. And I've watched more TV than ever before. Mostly binge-watching cop shows -- Icelandic cop shows, Swedish cop shows, French cop shows, Italian cop shows, British cop shows. Thank goodness for MHz Networks and Acorn. And subtitles. (I can't stand Blue Bloods' constant shouting and Danny's foot chases any longer! Haven't been able to for a while.) 

Oh, yes. There is a jigsaw puzzle in progress on my dining table.

For self-preservation, I cut my TV news to less than half. Thirty minutes of local news. Thirty minutes of international news from the BBC. Thirty minutes of national news from ABC. And PBS's News Hour. I count most of the TV journalists among my friends. After all, they come into my home every day and with the pandemic, I've been to their homes. I know what books and treasures are on their bookshelves. I know their cat. They give me a lot of bad news. More bad news than most of my real-life friends give me. Pandemic death numbers. Economic numbers. Election campaign rhetoric and bombast. Really, political news has been awful these past five years. But this year, the worst.

It's been a question of survival. The first goal was to survive the pandemic, but it's still going on. No more travel for us. No out-of-state visitors. No visitors of any stripe. Except the TV people.

Things I normally looked forward to -- a day trip into the mountains, a games party now and then, exercise classes, walking and coffee with my friends, going to the movies, eating out -- not gonna happen. My friends and I still walk. Our town has many parks designed and maintained to encourage walking. And our weather is usually comfortable enough year round. We wear masks and maintain the recommended six-feet social distance from one another. We carry folding chairs in our cars so we can visit in parking lots or in driveways. Not to tempt Fate, but so far we've avoided contracting Covid-19 or any of its variants. In fact we've had many fewer colds and no seasonal flu.

In years past, I would have looked forward to the Fourth of July with watermelon and barbeque. Then Labor Day Weekend, the final opportunity to drive to the top of Mount Evans before the road is closed for the winter and October before Trail Ridge Road through Rocky Mountain National Park also closes for the winter. But not this year.

So there was the election to look forward to and the very real possibility that Joe Biden would win. He may not have been my first choice, or for that matter my second, but by election time he was my only choice. The GOP's politics-of-hate campaign and their blatant disregard for the safety measures we were practicing would finally end. Trump would step aside and we could get back to the business of living our lives in an America for all. 

The election came and went. Thanksgiving came and went with no relief from the Trump lies and accusations, even though the election was over and he lost. Trump's rallies and rants escalated through December as the Electoral College cast their votes and those votes were certified by the States. 

The mood in the United States has been ugly for a long time, but it got uglier as Christmas neared. Too many people either followed the Trump/GOP line that the pandemic was not that serious or they had had  enough of it and they decided what-the-hell. They travelled. They rallied in Georgia for the Senate election there. They partied, including at the White house. Ignoring the CDC and Dr. Fauci's warnings.

Of course, I believed those dire warnings. I knew that the world and life do not blindly follow our calendars, do not observe our humanly fanciful time limits, do not adhere to our traditional dates of endings and beginnings. But didn't 2021's possibilities shine and sparkle in our imaginations. Vaccines to vanquish the pandemic. Children back face-to-face in school. Long term care facilities no longer locked down. A new administration in the White House. Jobs coming back. Couldn't we put 2020 behind us?

A metaphor for 2020/2021:   

     "Have you ever driven west through Kansas to get to Denver? You hit the Colorado border 

     and think YES, MOUNTAINS! But then you realize the first half of Colorado is pretty much just             more of Kansas. Slowly, you see the blue peaks [or white depending on the time of year] and            
     the joy of the mountains slowly becomes a reality." -- Charlie Worroll.

Interstate 70 through Kansas is the metaphor for 2020. The country is High Plains Desert. Not many trees and those not very tall. It is just flat land and high sky. You can see from here until tomorrow. 

From Salina, Kansas, to Limon, Colorado, is 343 miles. That's more than five hours of your life at
75 miles per hour, slowing to go through the very few small cities and smaller towns.Their church spires and grain elevators rise from the vast land into the infinite sky. 

At Limon you see this.

   

There,                                                
that faint white on the horizon.
Mountains!                    
Mountains?                    
Or is it just a cloud?                          

From there it's still an hour and a half to Denver where you can see this by looking west from the third floor terrace of the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. You're still on the prairie and the mountains are another half-hour west. That's if there's no ski traffic.

After New Year's, I looked forward to January 6, 2021. The United States Congress would formally count the Electoral Votes that were certified and forwarded to them by the States. Joe Biden would be the 46th President of the United States. Kamala Harris would be the first woman and first person of color elected Vice President of the United States.

I was ready. At 12:30 p.m. Eastern Standard Time (10:30 a.m. Mountain Standard Time) I turned on my TV to watch PBS's live coverage of the confirmation of the Biden-Harris victory.

PBS did not air Trump's rally prior to the mob's surge down Pennsylvania Avenue toward the Capitol. Watching PBS's coverage of the joint session, I had no idea what had gone on less than an hour earlier and just blocks down the street.

It begins.

Announcing the votes is done by State alphabetically. Alabama and Arkansas the votes went to Trump. Arizona the votes went to Biden. The first objection came from Ted Cruz, Republican Senator from Texas. The Joint Session was suspended. The Senators went to debate the objection and vote yea or nay to uphold the objection. The House of Representatives met for the same purpose. Two and a half hours or so later the Joint Session was reconvened to announce that the objection was rejected and the count went forward.

    

                          Lisa Desjardin, PBS journalist                Amna Nawaz, PBS journalist
                             Inside the Capitol                                          Outside the Capitol

These two women are my friends. They've been in my house. I've been in theirs. At least electronically. Lisa has a black and white cat who lounges or cavorts on the couch in the background while she reports for PBS News Hour.

Amna was among journalists, on air, covering the activities outside the Capitol. We could see Trump supporters milling around, hurling obscenities at the reporters. As time went on, we could see the mob clambering over the Capitol, unimpeded.

  

                                  I was truly afraid for the safety of the reporters outside

Inside, Lisa was on air when the mob started bashing at the front doors of the Capitol. She was on an inside balcony, the next floor up and could see the doors. We could hear the glass in the doors shatter.

The mob had breached the doors and was pouring into the building. Lisa could see no Capitol Police. She started looking for a safe place. I think she must have been videoing from her cell phone and she kept it on. I was terrified for her.

At one point she was crouched down behind a counter. When she raised up to try to see what was going on a police officer in full protective gear carrying what looked like an assault rifle appeared. He told her to get down and stay down.

She was soon escorted to safety along with members of Congress transmitting video the whole time. At one point, she blocked our view saying "We're not supposed to photograph this area." (I almost laughed at the irony.) She continued to do her job despite the fact that her life and the lives of those around her, was at risk,  And yet she followed the rules designed to protect the Capitol. 

The Capitol was locked down. National Guard were brought in, much too late. The building was cleared and secured.

Documents and papers of all kinds were scattered. I wondered where the boxes containing the certified electoral votes were. What would happen if they were stolen or destroyed?

 

When the Joint Session was reconvened the boxes were carried in ahead of Vice President Pence. The votes were safe. Pence gaveled the Joint Session into being, pronounced the Trump Mob a failure and the count continued.

The count went forward. To be considered, objections had to be in writing, signed by a Member of the House of Representatives and a Senator. Following the violent mob assault on the Capitol, Senators who had signed onto the objections for Georgia, Michigan, and Nevada withdrew their support. No interrupting the session for debate was necessary for those states. Thank Goodness.

That left the objection to Pennsylvania's certified votes. And yes, the Joint Session was suspended while the House and Senate separately debated the merits of the objection and voted to uphold the objection or dismiss it. 

I have a long-standing interest in United States Constitutional Law. These past few weeks I have read and researched, researched and read, afraid that this whole affair could go awry or be delayed. The night of January 6 bled into January 7 before we had a resolution. At 3:41 a.m. Eastern Standard Time, 1:41 a.m. Mountain Standard Time, Vice President Pence in his role as President of the Senate announced that the electoral votes had been deemed correct and counted. Joseph R. Biden, Jr. of Delaware was elected President of the United States and Kamala D. Harris of California was elected Vice President of the United States.

I could go to bed. And I did.

The vote may have been confirmed, but the storming of the Capitol by a delusional, hate-filled mob will take longer to deal with. Five people died -- a member of the mob was shot by a Capitol policeman, three people died of medical emergencies, and one Capitol Police Officer was bludgeoned to death. Rioters will be identified and prosecuted. Whether Trump will be held accountable for inciting the violence and destruction is yet to be determined.

It's like the I-70 metaphor for 2020 and 2021:
"The first half of Colorado is going to be more Kansas. We won’t hit Denver until the summer at the earliest. But not even western Kansas lasts forever, no matter what it feels like on the drive."