I am writing this on my long (7 1/2 hours) train ride home from my visit to Massachusetts to attend the homegoing service for my paternal grandfather. He lived a wonderfully long, full, rich 93 years on this earth, and I feel even more blessed to have had him in my life for this long. I now know that I had a very private, selfish view of my grandfather–he was mine and I had a limited view of the grandness of who he was on this earth. I think it was mainly because I came into his life when he was an older man. I was not a witness to his larger life in the church and in the community. During his funeral when I caught a glimpse of the seemingly never-ending line of mourners who came to pay their respects, my eyes became open to the fact that he was even more wonderful a man than I had imagined.

His service was held in the sanctuary of the church that he loved and served for more than 50 years of his life through ten different pastors and many triumphs, trials and tribulations. As all of the beautiful words were spoken over his body, the feeling welled up within me that I had not known this man as they had, but I knew him in a special way that they knew not of–as my own grandpa. I remember the sparkling eyes, the crackling laughter that made hid belly shake and tears come to the corners of his eyes. The smell of tobacco mingled with old leather that emanated from him as he sat in his big chair and spoke with a pipe clenched between his teeth. I’d always get beard burn on my face when I kissed his stubbly cheek and got caught in one of his bear hugs.

Grandpa always seemed fascinated by how quickly were were growing up. On the door frame in the dining room he would keep track of our growth. When we visited, we would be required to stand against the wall and he would squint one eye and with a pen held to the top of our heads and a quick check to make sure that we weren’t on tippy toes, he would mark our new height on wall. He always seemed amazed at this evidence of time passing and it became a fun ritual.

My grandpa was a warm, smart, funny man who was a joy to be around. His tremendous faith was as a mantle about him and yet, he still had an infectious sense of humour and a very quick (and sometimes naughty) wit. At his homegoing service, my cousin Lois, who is of my dad’s generation, told of his love for offering very thorough, long-winded blessings over the food at family gatherings. Grandpa Joe could pray as if his prayers could bring Jesus back. at the time we would stand impatiently shifting our weight, hands growing a bit sweaty from holding your neighbors hands. You could sense the food getting cold and despite grandma’s not-too-subtle throat clearing, grandpa would pray on. Now when I look back on having had the honor of having been prayed over by such a man, I pray that the power of his prayers will yet linger in my life now that he is no longer with us. I pray that the blessing of having enjoyed so many years in his presence would serve as a healing and protective balm that will cover me and fortify me for what is to come in my life.

When we stood around his casket in that bright, cold morning sunshine at his burial at Mount Auburn Cemetery, I knew that he was not gone from us. He decided that it was time to lay his body down and to take his place in the arms of Jesus in heaven with the saints and all of those who have fallen asleep in Christ. I patted the shiny mahogany casket as we turned to leave so that they could tuck him into the ground for his body’s eternal rest. He loved good and well and was loved by many. What other accomplishment in life really matters?

And so I say, Godspeed, Grandpa Joe. You will always be in my heart as my beloved grandpa and a shining example of all that I ever hope to be.

On Wednesday, January 21, our new President’s first day in office, an Open House was held at the White House. I had been volunteering at the Presidential Inaugural Committee in the days leading up to the swearing-in, and I received a phone call from one of the PIC staffers inviting me to the Open House. They took all of my information including name, date of birth, social security number etc. for myself and my guest, who was my eldest daughter. We were both disappointed at not having been able to get tickets for any of the inaugural events, and this seemed to be a good substitute.

The Open House was to be held at 2pm, so we showed up at the gate to find already assembled an orderly line of about 60-80 people. I spoke to the women at the front of the line who told me that they had been there since 10am. It was about 28 degrees outside, and I felt sorry for them because they were clearly cold and exhausted. There were reporters and news cameras all around as well as some tourists who would approach us and ask what was going on. We took our place in line and one of the reporters came over and started asking me some questions quite tentatively at first. As I answered her questions she paused and said, “No one else in this line would answer any of my questions.” I thought that was strange also. She took a few notes and her photographer took a bunch of pictures of us. Then a Secret Service agent came out and told us that we would be going inside soon and that we were free to take still photos, but if we were caught videotaping we would be escorted from the building. I called my father and said, “Daddy, ask me where I am right now? He said, “At the airport waiting for me to pick you up? I said, “No, silly, I am standing in the security line waiting to get into the White House! He was thrilled for us and said to be sure to send him some pictures.”

We went through security just like in any other federal building in town, and then we simply walked into the White House. I stopped in the front reception area and snapped this picture that was just put up that morning:

We were given a lovely tour and everyone was very nice. The whole group of us took pictures, and we were all excited with the anticipation that maybe the First Lady would come down and greet us. Towards the end of the tour wee all tried to linger in the foyer, hoping to catch a glimpse of the President or the First Lady and the girls, but the agents moved us along. We could see that there was another group coming in behind us. We were given special cookies shaped like the White House and took pictures with the chefs and then we departed from the front door.

Brianna and I took pictures on the grand driveway, but it was windy and bitter cold, so we didn’t linger there long. The New York Post photographer took some shots of us as we were leaving and the people around us were looking at us and asking each other who we were. There was a bit of meager sun shining, but the sky was gray and the frigid air made us scurry along to find a coffee shop where we relived our small adventure over a cup of cocoa with whipped cream.

Later that evening on the news we saw that President Obama did come out of his office and greet the visitors in the group that came in behind us. I got an email from our New York Post reporter saying that she didn’t end up using our quotes and pictures because Obama came down just a few moments after we left, and the story ended up being about that. We were a bit bummed, but still thrilled that we were given the opportunity to visit the White House on the first day of this new Presidency. I’m certain that I’ll meet my new Washington, D.C. neighbors another time.

I am proud to say that I braved the cold with about a million and a half of my fellow Americans and witnessed the peaceful transition of power in the United Stated as Barack Obama was inaugurated as our 44th president.

I have been out in the cold since 5:45 am, and my fingers are slightly frostbitten making it a bit painful to type these words. I am thoroughly exhausted, and despite the fact that I have been indoors since about 4:30 this afternoon, I can’t seem to get warm. To top it off, when I got back to my car this evening, I found a flat in the right, rear tire. Joy.

I will post my account of my day tomorrow. Until then, I am happy and proud to fall asleep under the watch of the first African American president in history. God is good.

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I wrote this post last night after having stumbled into the house exhausted and with a bit of frostbite on my fingers and toes. I was then too sleepy to post it on my blog, so I crawled into my bed piled on the blankets and drifted off to sleep while watching coverage of the inaugural balls on TV while one of my little ones rubbed my feet. I ended up falling asleep before I could post it, so here it is.

I awakened this morning finally having shaken that freezing cold to the core feeling, but my body still does not feel quite right. My fingers still feel tingly and numb at the same time making it quite challenging to type accurately. I also feel a residual aching in my bones that I am sure will subside eventually.

But most of all, I awakened this morning feeling fantastic about our brand new president. I awakened filled with a realistic hope in his energy and ideas and refreshing brand of leadership. I also awakened with pride–a pride in my country that our new president helped to engender within me. I know that he can’t fix our broken economy on his own nor do I expect him to do so. But I trust that having Barack Obama at the helm will help us to navigate these treacherous waters and come out the other side better people than when we began.

The following is my first-person account of my day as one of the huddled masses on the National Mall watching the 2009 inauguration of Brarck H. Obama as he was sworn in as the 44th president of the United States.

Leaving Home Pre-Dawn
I left the house at 5:30 in the morning on inauguration day filled with excitement for what the day would hold. I dressed warmly in three layers of clothing, two pairs of socks and insulated leather gloves with thick woolen mittens over top of those. I affixed my Obama button to my wool cap and set out on my way wearing my insulated snow boots to keep my feet warm.

The air was cold so I moved quickly to meet my friend Claire at McPherson Square. As I was leaving, she called me to let me know that she had made it on to one of the Metro trains and that she would meet me at the station soon.

I made it to McPherson Square Metro station quickly, but I did not see her. The station was heated, so I hung around inside waiting to see her appear in the throngs of people coming up out of the subway that morning. I sent a message to twitter filled with my excitement and enthusiasm, and then I sent a text to my daughter to find out where she planned to go to watch. I impatiently paced around eager to get going, but Claire was terribly late. Just as I began debating whether I should press on ahead without her or not, she appeared. She was blushingly apologetic about having been late and making me wait, but the train that she had gotten on initially broke down at the second stop, so all of the passengers on that jam-packed train had to be off-loaded on to the station platform. She then had to try to squeeze on to the next train that arrived.

We walked at a brisk pace down I street to 19th and turned on to Constitution where we got on the mall. It was still pre-dawn and the people we saw ahead appeared as shadowy figures moving around in the dark. It was cold but there was a palpable sense of electrical excitement in the air. Everyone was feeling festive while we all had a common goal–to find the best spot possible to view history in the making.

Finding a Place to Stand

The first jumbo-tron that we saw was north of the monument, and silly me, I suggested that we keep going and see if we couldn’t find a spot at a jumbo-tron within view of the Capitol. I would come to regret this hair-brained idea later. We kept on walking and finally found a spot near the fourth jumbo-tron from the Capitol–which is about at the halfway point on the mall across from the Smithsonian Castle.

We settled in and then Claire made the mistake of telling me that it was 7:15am. Of course that meant that we’d be standing in that spot for the next three hours waiting for things to get started. Slowly, the sun came up and shone quite brightly for awhile, and I had hopes that the temperature would rise above 32 degrees. We chatted up our neighbors a bit and found that the people in front of us who had blankets spread out and had staked out quite a spot were from Illinois. There were people behind us from London, and others from other places in the U.S. all just thrilled to be here in Washington D.C. on such a momentous day. Claire and I chatted and tried to keep moving to keep warm and to relieve the fatigue I was beginning to feel in my feet from standing so long. Then they started to run the ‘We Are One’ concert that was held at the Lincoln Memorial on Sunday on the jumbo-tron. We all sang and danced along with the performers on screen. Just as the concert was wrapping up, the live feed from the Capitol began.

Our Witness to History
We all watched and cheered as the procession of dignitaries began and we saw assembled there on the Capitol the entire United States Government in one place, along with celebrities and othe famous folks. We commented on all of the living former presidents as they and their spouses were introduced. Because we were watching the live feed with no media commentary, we were all guessing who some of the people were whose entrance was not being announced by the Seargent At Arms. But when the One–President-elect Barack H. Obama appeared, there began the famous chant from the campaign rallies: “Obama, Obama, Obama!” The crowd chanted his name and you could feel the sweel of pride among us as we saw our hero taking his place on the world stage. The feeling that each and every one of us had helped to put him there made it that much more special.

We watched the inaugural ceremony and cheered as he made his speech. The crowd erupted with cheers when he took his oath of office, and then I felt that it had all been worth it–to get out of my warm bed and stand here in this cold to witness this important moment in person rather than on TV.

Now when the video of this inaugural is played throughout my lifetime I can tell my children and my grandchildren that I was there. I stood there and held space for my grandparents and all of my ancestors who worked, fought, struggled and died so that I could experience this moment. I held the space for my three daughters who are going on before me to carve out lives of their own with there feet on my shoulders and the shoulders of our forebears. But I also stood there for me because Obama’s rise proves that the promise of the American dream is real. This man who was raised by a single mother, had an absent father and none of the priviledges of wealth could rise by sheer hard work, determination and strength of character to the highest office in the land. This to me is an inspiraiton and give me new hope and a re-newed sense of purpose in my life.

Making our Way Back Home
As Elizabeth Alexander, the inaugural poet began to read her poem, Claire and I decided to sneak out whilst the crowd was still watching the jumbo-trons with rapt attention. Unfortunately, we were not the only ones with this idea, and as we tried to squeeze our way through the tightly packed sea of humanity others followed suit. Soon the whol crowd turned from having been standing still in orderly fashion, to a teeming flood of people urgent to get out that area that we suddenly found ourselves boxed into. This tide of human beings flowed down towards 12th Street, but that exit was blocked. We then streamed towards 14th Street and also found that blocked off. We ended up standing there for over 30 minutes until the police finally released the barricades and let us go. We later found out that they were concerned that we would try to go to the parade route, but most folks were trying to get to their buses or to the Metro Stations. While we stood there waiting, we saw several people being treated for hypothermia. By that time we had been out in the sub-freezing temperatures for seven hours. I had not been drinking anything because I did not want to have to use one of the thousands of port-a-potties lined up along the mall. I was hungry and tired and by then both my feet and hands were numb. I just wanted to find someplace warm to sit down and rest my feet and warm my hands.

Claire and I stopped at the International Food Court in the financial district. Our first objective was to use the bathroom, but we had to stand in line for about 15 minutes in order to do so. Then we were somehow able to snag a table in that crowded food court where hundreds of people had descended to get warm, find some food to eat and rest from the morning’s activities. That excited buzz among us was now tempered with sheer exhaustion. I saw some people had put their bags on the table and rested their head on their bags and were fast asleep. We ate our food and then we parted ways. Claire went off to the Metro station and I headed home. As I emerged from the warmth of the food court back out into the cold and wind, I knew that I suffered from exposure because I could feel that the cold had settled into my bones. My fingers and feet were throbbing in pain and my head felt a bit light. despite it all I was thrilled to have been there, and I would do it all over again.

As 2008 comes to a close I am thinking about my plans and ideas and wishes for the coming year. I really love New Year’s Day because it represents yet another chance to get it right. On that day we stand poised on the brink of the freshness of life. Everything is new. We walk around smiling and greeting strangers with a hearty, “Happy New Year!” and positivity just seems to float in the air. The year 2008 was not a banner year for me, and as it drags on out of here I give it a kick in the butt, wipe its dust off of my feet and turn towards the new year with a renewed sense of hope and possibility.

I was in quite a funk last week–quite a dark one and it took awhile to shake myself out of it. Sometimes it’s so much easier to just give in to those feelings of hopelessness and despair when they creep in along the edges. I was finding few positive things to feel hopeful about, so I began to allow myself to sink low. Even for those days while I was wallowing in self-pity I knew that there was a better choice, but I was tired of the frustration of trying to help myself and failing time and again. But I finally came to the conclusion that if I did not want to end up in a mental health facility in a padded room, then I needed to get a grip on myself and snap out of it. Yesterday I heard someone say, “My best days are ahead of me.” but I know that my best time is right now. In this moment I am all that I will ever be. I embrace the fact that I have not accomplished all that I set out to this year. I acknowledge that I have wasted a lot of valuable time in my life, but I am also confident in the knowledge that God will neither leave me nor forsake me. I know that I have the strength to get through any circumstance that I find myself in and prevail in the end because I am still here. Every challenge that has come before me in the past I have overcome, and so I feel confident as I move forward.

Despite the fact that I said that I would not set any goals this year, to shake myself up and get my creative juices flowing, I decided to write a list that would encompass my, “Money no object, pie in the sky dreams and wishes for 2009.” The following is a list of the things that I would love to do if I had no limitations whatsoever in no particular order:

• Learn to fly an airplane
• Publish a book
• Build my dream house
• Travel to Barbados, Italy, France, Niger, Sudan and Australia
• Visit my family and friends in Oregon and California
• Learn to play the piano
• Have a gallery showing of my paintings
• Attend cooking school

For today I will embrace each moment and simply do the next thing that comes up. I am grateful for my health, my (relative) sanity , the talents that I was blessed with, my children, my family and friends and my faith. With all of these things intact, 2009 can throw whatever she will at me, or bring me all of the desires of my heart. I am here and I am ready.

I think I say this every year, but it really seems like this year has flown by in a blurr. My baby girl is now six years old, and we are preparing to inagurate the first Black President of the United States. Our economy has slipped into a recession, which means hard times are here again. My philosophy is to strike a balance between hopeful optimism and abject denial of the current state of affairs. I don’t see how it’s productive to get all down and depressed because the economy sucks right now. I am alive,and well my children are alive, healthy and happy. We have a home and food to eat, so it’s all good. I am thankful for every blessing that God sends, and I do my best to give and share what I have with those who have even less than we do.

This has been a strange year for me. It began with me poised to realize a big goal of buying my first home. I was greatly disappointed when that did not work out, but through the months that followed, I can see that God had his hand in it, and it was all for the best. I will get my house when the time is right and when the right house comes along. Patience is something that I pray for and work towards every day because it does not come naturally to me. I am confident that what God has for me no person can keep from me. What others have meant for evil towards me, God has turned things around and made it for the best, so I won’t complain. I know that He is working things out for me.

Normally at this time of the year I sit down and set goals for the coming year, but for some reason I don’t feel compelled to do that this year. There are some things in my heart that I have always desired, and since God in His wisdom created me He also created those desires in my heart. I am going to work towards living fully in each moment and loving each moment and seeing where life takes me.

Do you plan to set some big new goals for the coming year? What is the one thing that you hope to be able to accomplish in 2009?

I am thankful for having survived Thanksgiving weekend! We made the big pilgrimage up to Massachusetts and New Hampshire to visit my family for the holiday. It took me eight hours to drive up there with no traffic on Tuesday, but it took us eleven hours to get home on Saturday. But it was well worth it to see everyone again. We’ve not been home in two years, so the family was amazed at how much the girls have grown.

We had Thanksgiving dinner with my mother’s family in West Medford, MA, which is the town I grew up in. It was a family reunion of my mother’s family, and it was held in the West Medford Community Center, which is across the street from a house that we lived in when I was small. They have completely rebuilt the community center and it is a beautiful facility now. When I was a child I attended girl scouts there and day camp in the summer. I took a walk down the street to the playground where we used to play when I was a child. The tennis courts are still there, but, of course the park has been completely renovated and has new equipment in it. But as I walked around I remembered where that tall slide used to be that would get sizzling hot in the summer sun. There was a merry-go-round that went so fast that when you got off you often felt like tossing your cookies. The swing set was still in the same location although it looked much smaller than I remember.

It was great to go back home and reminisce about my happy childhood days. Although I am over 40 now, that little girl is still alive in me. She remembers those summer days when my siblings and I would sit on the grass and watch my parents play tennis. When we were growing up they used to fight unmercifully with each other, but when they got on the tennis courts they played well together and made a formidable team. They laughed and played and enjoyed themselves, and other couples enjoyed taking them on. I remember wishing that they could bring some of that same feeling off of the courts and into our home. When they played tennis together its like they loved each other again, and it was magical to watch.

Anyway, we had a lovely visit and I will make sure that it’s not two years before wego back and visit. Next time I will bring another driver along to share the driving so that I do not have to arrive exhausted. Here is a picture that my cousin snapped of my two youngest girls on Thanksgiving using my cell phone:

I was shocked and amazed this morning when I stepped on the scale at the gym to face the reckoning of five days without exercise. Can you believe that I actually lost three pounds over Thanksgiving week? My modest goal was to just stick to my plan and not gain any weight. I did stick to my plan, but since we were constantly coming and going I never got a chance to exercise and I spent hours on end in the car going from place to place. I was both pleased and proud that I did not have to do any ‘damage control.’ It felt good to be in the gym again and back in my fitness routine. It feels even better to be that much closer rather than farther away from my goal.

I hope that everyone had a lovely Thanksgiving holiday. I am looking forward now to getting ready for Christmas. I really love to enjoy Christmas through the eyes of my children. It’s such a fun time of the year, and I have taught them the value of giving and not expecting a huge pile of gifts, but that we should focus on and celebrate the true meaning of Christmas in our hearts always. But, when you’re a kid, none of that really means a lot until you’re older. It’s just fun to get cool stuff on Christmas, and it’s one of those memorable and enjoyable parts of childhood that I look back fondly on. I hope that my girls will too.

One of the cool things about participating in social media is that you can find lots of cool resources from the friends that you make online. I’ve been using utterli.com, a social media/networking site that’s sort of like twitter, but with audio. Through that site I met the fabulous domesticdiva, who uses viddler.com to do a vlog, or video blog. I signed up and posted my first video there. It’s about Thanksgiving being my favorite holiday. Please enjoy and have a safe and happy Thanksgiving.