Rejuvenation

I found myself choking up a few times this morning as the presidential inauguration ramped up. It’s not because I’m an ardent Biden supporter, I’m not. I am eternally gratefully to him for vanquishing the disaster he replaces. I’m emotional today because I believe to the depths of my soul in this country and its possibilities. While I never stopped to think about it before, Inauguration Day is the fundamental basis of our way of life, the peaceful transfer of power. The recent challenges to that process has renewed my attention to this ceremony with a rehabilitated sense of pride and something I would describe as awe. I’ve been all over the world and seen the political processes and the results thereof. It is for that reason I realize how fortunate we are. What I never grasped was how fragile our process is, something that was brought home to me eloquently on January 6^th. I stand in awe to the framers of the Constitution who foresaw the dangers, more than 200 years ago, of a demagogue in the office of president. Think about that, they protected us against Trump, installing safeguards he couldn’t overcome. I am intensely proud of my country today, regardless of who is taking that oath. Today is a day of joy.

The 1989 Inauguration, I am Circled

I’m also interested in the inauguration because I took part in planning two of them, the last Reagan one and the first Bush one. I was a general’s aide to the chairman of the Armed Forces Inaugural Committee which allowed me incredible access to the events. I watched Bush’s speech from the balcony directly behind him and then stood next to the presidential viewing stand in front of the White House for the parade. While I couldn’t entirely focus on the VIPs swirling around me because I was at the beck and call of a very intense general, I truly enjoyed the day, albeit a bit wide eyed. I even exchanged nodded greetings with Jesse Jackson, who had no idea who I was. I was in the White House dozens of times over the years but this 1989 day will always be remembered as my favorite.

The 1989 Parade, Again I am Circled

Speaking of favorites, we have a new dedicated activity during our daily calls with the FBR, a dance party. If there was any doubt about her genetic connection with my Favorite Panamanian this should dispel them. She takes the iPad into the living room and while her mother puts on her playlist she launches into a frenzied dance which we are supposed to mimic. I am certainly not physically capable of keeping up with her despite my years of dance floor tutelage from my spouse. The FBR seems content that I’m moving my head and hands with her music.

Dance Party Fever

Again, today is all about the renewal of our country. No need for a series of morale pictures.

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RECURRING CHARACTERS                                           

BR3 – granddaughter #3, BRS - Blog Reader the Sequel - second granddaughter; FBR - First Blog Reader - first granddaughter, ABFA – Amazing Best Family Athlete = my daughter in law; Wingman – my son in law; Keene Friends 1 & 2 – friends since high school from my home town of Keene, NH; Soxfather - my brother in law; Great Aunt - my elder sister; Cantankerous Friend – friend since grade school who likes to argue about everything, poses as radical leftist to attract women; Kindergarten Friend – friend since kindergarten whom I reunited with after many years; Pittsburgh College Roommate – high school friend, also a “Minor Celebrity” in Pittsburgh; Deckzilla – our backyard deck which grew to monstrous dimensions once my wife got involved in planning; Maine and Virginia Musqueteras – two close friends of my wife – her US sisters, my wife is the 3^rd musquetera (musketeer); Riggins - also known as the Grandpuppy, son's dog; PanaGals – female relatives /friends of my wife from Panama; Panamanian/Latin Mafia – inevitable group of Latino friends my wife accumulates wherever we have lived & their spouses; Neighborhood Mafioso - wife's close friend and Panamanian mafia member, Favorite Panamanian - the wife (of course); First Friday – celebrations to mark the First Friday of the Week; Curbside Girls – close friends of my daughter acquired during her single days in Brooklyn