I’ve lived in Washington, D.C. for 15 years of my life and never
experienced a day like that.
During my college years, I lived through 9/11, WTO riots,
and the 2002 sniper. Since returning about a decade ago, I’ve lived through multiple
championship parades, protests, marches, and even the military attacking peaceful
protestors.
I was here on Inauguration Day in 2017. It was cold, wet,
and dark. It felt off. Inauguration Day is usually this city’s biggest party.
That day it felt like a funeral, and that’s no hyperbole. There was no
excitement. The few maga attendees were largely quiet in the morning heading
down to the National Mall. There were no crowds. The bars and restaurants in
our neighborhood were empty. In retrospect, he lost the 2020 election that day –
the majority of the country didn’t support him.
For the next four years, and particularly in 2020, he and
Republicans cast a pall over the city. We had an unwelcome visitor who happened
to be squatting in our house. And we couldn’t get rid of him until November
2020. Get rid of him we did though.
The few days after the election concluded were frustrating once
it became obvious that Joe Biden had won. Thanks to Republicans’ sowing
uncertainty about the election, news organizations wanted to be 101% sure that
Joe Biden won.
By Saturday morning, we were all sick of looking at Steve Kornacki
and John King. We knew the outcome. We just needed them to say it. I was
exhausted. I thought they would call it and we’d all go back to sleep. I may
have slept 12 hours in total that week.
Instead, Wolf Blitzer declared Joe Biden as the next
President of the United States and our city exploded. Cities across the world
did too. Outside of our apartment building is a weekly farmer’s market on Saturdays,
so we could instantly hear the screams and celebrations. My wife immediately started
blasting Bustin’ Loose like the Nats had won the World Series again, and I
popped a little bit of the bubbly.
Yet I still didn’t understand what was about to happen that
day. After about a half hour celebration with the two of us, we decided to head
down to the White House. We weren’t prepared for what accompanied us.
It has been described as the scene in countries where dictatorships
fall, and I can’t argue otherwise. We were all beyond happy. It was a four-year
release of screaming and yelling and honking of horns. We didn’t stay out long,
due to the fear of being too close to other for too long, but it was so worth
it. Cars were honking on Mass Avenue well past I walked my dog for his
post-dinner walk in the early evening.
That night, Clemson played Notre Dame in the biggest college football game of the year, and I watched it on my laptop because Joe Biden and
Kamala Harris were speaking on the big screen. I’m still convinced those Notre
Dame students – far more left-leaning than its administration – rushed thefield that night in part due to their excitement of a good Catholic boy being
elected President.
Of course, 2020 is 2020 and life returned to being a giantpile of crap shortly thereafter, and the holidays have brought more awful waves
of sickness and death.
With a hopeful eye to future and 2021, I will never forget
November 7, 2020, when thinking about this year. It was the one day we were truly
happy. It was the one day we actually forgot about our crippling reality.
As I remember that day, I am struck by what I was wearing –
a Kenny Omega t-shirt. It was a couple weeks before Thanksgiving and the temperatures
on that beautiful sunny day was approaching 70, nearly the complete opposite in
every way from the weather on Inauguration Day 2017.
To me, that’s a sign. Good times are ahead. Heaven help us,
they have to be.
Comments
Post a Comment