Donna Crenshaw, college learning skills instructor, also shared some of her experience at the Inauguration
Simply amazing! The atmosphere, the millions of people, the place—simply amazing.
Our day started at 2:30 a.m.! My sister, June, lives in Frederick, Md., which is an hour away from D.C. We had Silver Ticket admittance into the Mall, but that did not guarantee our entrance so we made sure we arrived by 4:30 a.m. to stand in a huge, long line. We did not encounter one rude person during our 12-hour experience in frigid 20-degree weather. I’ve never heard so many “excuse me,” “pardon me,” “can I get by,” statements. It was so moving to have so many people be so polite.
The most awesome moment was when President Obama took the Oath of Office - I shed tears of joy and remembered our ancestors whose shoulders we all stood on this great day! I am so thankful for the opportunity to have witnessed this most powerful, overwhelming, and inspiring moment in history!
When I realized that Barack Hussein Obama had won the election to become the 44th president of the United States, I screamed so loudly that I woke my ancestors: my great-great grandfather Tommy Vaughn, a basket weaver and fiddle player, and Mary Vaughn, who escaped slavery with one baby in her arms and one left in slavery, and Louisa Hicks, her offspring, and Seretha, and Andrew who always said, “Get yourself an education, children, because times are going to change.”
And Eunice, who saw that everyone in the community was registered to vote.
I shouted for the many NAACP rallies we attended, for the many slain civil rights workers in the Deep South, for the many ‘White’ water fountains where we could not get a cool drink of water because of our color. For you see, the water seemed more free than we were. I shouted for Harriet Tubman, Sojourner Truth and Frederick Douglass, Booker T. Washington and W.E.B., for Malcolm and Martin, for Goodman, Chaney and Schwerner, for Viola Leuzzi, and Fannie Lou Hamer, and all my slave and free ancestors who knew this day would come.
So as I sat at my desk preparing my syllabi, all of these ancestors pressed down upon me, surrounded me and said I had to take them to the Mall. It was not enough to see it on television. They had worked too hard, they had sacrificed too much, they had waited too long; and so I boarded that American Airlines with a $100 ticket that only God could find, and headed to Washington D.C. to see history being made, and to stand with the millions and be a part of the making.
Taking all my ancestors into Washington D.C. meant waking at 4 a.m., catching a metro and enduring a four-hour train ride from Virginia into the city. Each time we stopped, we were joined by more people from Houston and Philadelphia and Georgia, Puerto Rico, India, China---all over the U.S. and abroad.
We laughed and joked and acted as though we had known each other for years, and in some way we had, for we were an Obama rainbow, coming to enjoy the fruits of our ancestors’ labor. When we arrived at the Mall, we saw throngs of people, many of whom had been standing in the freezing weather for hours. Because it took us four hours to reach D.C., I only had to wait a brief time before the festivities began.
As I stood midway between the Washington Monument and the Capitol, I saw a sea of people: mothers, fathers, children, grandmothers, babies in strollers, people in wheel chairs, and others leaning on canes—all waiting patiently. My mind went back to The March on Washington, and Martin’s dream, and I realized that Martin had promised us in his last speech, “I may not get there with you, but we will get to the Promised Land because my eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.” I also remembered one of the Civil Rights songs we sang at rallies: “Walk Together Children, Don’t You Get Weary.”
So, there I stood, carrying all my ancestors on my shoulders, as did everyone who came, and hearing our brilliant leader take the oath of office—and finally I cried because a change had come, and I could not cry until I saw it happen, for you see, I am the child who witnessed assassinations—and it left me afraid to hope for fear that hope would be shattered.
We listened closely to President Obama’s every word, thrilled to Aretha’s singing and were humbled by Rev. Lowery’s benediction—a benediction that was transformed from something negative to something very positive—an affirmation of all our diversities. I am better for having gone to the Mall to witness an historical event, and so are my ancestors, for they now know as I know, that their living was not in vain.
