New beginnings

I'm sitting here in my living room, watching my boy play a game on the Wii Fit, and I can't help but think that I would give anything to whisk Chris and I away to the inauguration tomorrow. Instead, we're doing what countless Americans are doing tomorrow. We're going to work. Missing this historic day is made more difficult by the fact that my mother, father, two aunts, four cousins and one of their husbands have descended upon our nation's capitol like a whirling dervish. They've been there for a few days and I can't help but think that perhaps our nation's capitol wasn't ready for them.

But I wouldn't take their places. For one, two of my cousins are under the age of sixteen. Being able to witness history will be amazing for them. They'll never forget it. More importantly, though, I would never take my father's place.

My father grew up in the south prior to the civil rights movement. His childhood was one of segregation; he didn't share bathrooms, schools, water fountains, or bus seats with non-whites. Although he might not have thought about it much as a child, as an adult the injustice haunted him. He knew that that environment had been unfair, that he had gotten advantages simply due to the color of his skin.

The last time my father went to D.C., he found the name of his dear friend on the Vietnam wall and cried. This time, he goes to celebrate. If he cries, they will be tears of joy.