And so it goes...inaugural reflections

For the 44th time, we have peacefully changed power in our country. (well, maybe not always peacefully, if you consider that sadly several presidents became president due to an assassination, but still, not violent military coups and such)


As I watch the president and his wife walk the parade route, I think of my grandfather, a WWII vet, a chemist who handled a the water quality of a large city and who passed away a few years ago. He was bed ridden during the last years of his life. Alas, he spent much of his life like many of his fellow citizens: a bit of a racist. I cannot fathom he ever struck a man in his life, and he certainly never belonged to hate groups. He was probably mostly polite to people of color. But he also probably didn't go to a lot of civil rights marches and I know he used horrible words sometimes.

Due to an arrogant surgeon's mishandling of his broken hip, my grandfather spent several years in bed before his death. He had a live in caregiver. She has a beautifully unique name, so on the off chance one of her friends also watches GH and reads this, I'll just call her Angel. I'm frankly shocked that it's not her middle name. Oh, did I mention that Angel was black? (I won't say African-American b/c she'd tell you proudly that she considered herself a Texan-American.)

He'd throw fits and call Angel impossibly horrible names. She'd be patient and loving because she knew at his core was a good man. She knew he was just afraid or angry. She knew he had pride and hated being weak. He never suffered. He'd awake in the night with bad dreams and call out, and she'd always get up and run to his side to calm him and coo to him. He lived as long as he did because she was so good at her job.

When he was in a better mood, he always apologized for the things he'd said, and apologized. She always accepted and said she understood. Some days he'd ask what she was reading and ask her to read to him. So they'd sit together and read from a book older than all their ancestors. They'd talk about the scripture and such.

At his funeral, good natured jokes were made about his bad temper and grumpiness. Angel gave part of his eulogy and said she didn't know that man with the bad temper that others were talking about. She knew a loving and docile man who prepared himself for his death by embracing what he'd loved about life and making peace with his faults. It may be the best lesson another person has taught to me. His white family sat humbly chastened in their pews because, unlike her, they'd mostly given up on him.

I can't help but to see the two of them as a parable of sorts about our country. There is a history of racism, and it may never entirely go away. But there is also a history of rising above racism. At our core are some faults, but along with those faults lives forgiveness and decency; love and hard work. What good is optimism if nothing bad ever happens? I know when we act from the strongest parts of ourselves, then great things are the result. I know small moments in a life can have an immeasurable impact on the world.

I am gladly a cynic, so I suppose I can't fault anyone for being cynical today. but I unabashedly resolve to keep in mind the still, sweet voice of Angel. Of the way she steadfastedly worked so lovingly and so hard; of the way she changed a life. Through her dedication, my grandfather was able to pass peacefully, no longer a racist old grump, but a loving, tender man. (don't get me wrong. He was no softy. After 9/11, he swore he'd re-enlist and do whatever required of him for our country!) I learned that change is not only possible, it's good. It just takes hard work, and lots of love and patience.

I hope, and I pray. As John McCain recently said, and I paraphrase, our president's triumph is OUR triumph. I am dedicated to our triumph, and I pray you are too!