My Tuesday began much like any other, with the exception being that I was actually semi-productive. After Mommy and Babuskha went to the library with Alexei, I set down at my workstation and was in a little bit of a groove. I kept checking the time every twenty minutes or so. Then, a few minutes before noon, I closed the curtains and flipped on the tube.

Aretha Franklin was midsong. For probably the next two hours, I stood and watched the inauguration. The formalities were really no different than others I’ve seen, but the crowd (or, rather, the size of it) was pretty amazing. For the duration of the inauguration coverage, I flipped between BET and WMPT. The difference in perspective was refreshing. Probably the wife and mother-in-law could have done with a little less channel flipping, but, hey, it is my TV, right?

The slip up during President Obama’s swearing-in was interesting. Commentators later in the day explained that Chief Justice John Roberts was apologizing for rearranging the words. Of course no cameras were trained on him. [Edit: In a rare, over-cautionary move President Obama has retaken the oath.]

In the fifth grade I remember watching the Clinton inauguration precedings. That was probably the last full inauguration I watched. Somewhat etched in my mind from that inauguration was the Inaugural Poem written and delivered by Maya Angelou. Understandably, I was looking forward to the poem portion of the ceremony this time around. I can’t say that I was thoroughly disappointed; I suppose I need to read the poem for myself at some point to make that decision. It may simply be a case where the composer is not the most qualified conductor. Dr. Elizabeth Alexander is the only person who could write her poem, but far from the best to deliver it. (It appears I’m not the only one to come to this conclusion…)

Poor poet performance complete, the benediction was amazing. Where Dr. Alexander was overcareful with her enunciation to the point of really shooting herself in the leg, Reverend Joseph Lowery threw all pronunciation guides in the toilet and preached his prayer. The prayer really had everything, for me. As he approached the “Amen,” the humorous jab at pigmentation differences really cemented the whole ceremony…until I caught some BET commentary a few moments later. In the words of the BET news-anchor, the opening phrase of the benediction was a direct quote from the Negro National Anthem, Lift Every Voice and Sing. The juxtaposition of the guttural plea from this verse against the entire context in which the prayer was delivered was enough to make me mentally step back and say, “whoa.” For what it is worth, many people took offense at this prayer.

After the MPT coverage completed, they reran a late night interview from a day or two ago with Maya Angelou. She, at least in that interview, appeared to be at the stage in life where eyes are no longer important. I’ve met one other person like that in my life — ehead. The person is talking to you, fully engaged, yet their eyes are closed. Every few minutes when they do open for a gaze, it makes you really notice them. Eyes. They do a body good.

I never did get back into the work groove the day opened with. Some things were accomplished, but not with the speed they should have been. The tube stayed on for awhile longer watching the parade and what have you until some friends popped in around 5pm bearing fresh mushroom pie and not-so-fresh Jelly rings. The pie was delicious, especially given that it was supposedly going to show up at 3pm and I was hungry for it at that point. I thought the jelly rings were tasty too; though shortly after our company left Anastasia went ballistic about them. Well, not the rings themselves, but the worms living in them. Now I never saw a worm, but the eggs or whatever they were were pretty visible. Oh well, a bit of protein never hurt much, right?

On to a cocktail party the neighbors were throwing. We were clearly in the minority as most of the people were proceeding on to an inaugural ball of some sort. Alexei enjoyed playing with their balloons, drawing on the whiteboard, and eating bits of a cookie. He even let a few of the kids hug him goodbye.

Back in our little appointment, I felt drained. I had done virtually nothing all day but didn’t feel like doing anything else. Unfortunately, you can’t just go to bed at 7pm. I bathed the boy while the others ate. Then while Babushka did the dishes and Mommy put Alexei to bed, I flipped on the TV. Not sure what I wanted to watch, I flipped around and found a classic just starting on TCM. Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner had just begun. To my amazement, Anastasia and her mom both sat down and watched the remainder of it with me.

There are things that, try as I might, I cannot imagine. One of them is being a black man in America. Reading and associating with educators has helped me realize that yes, President Obama’s feat is extraordinary and well worth the deserved attention it has received, but there is still a long road ahead until We Shall Overcome becomes we overcame. What then is my role in realizing this transition? How can I help? In the short term, the best thing I can do is see that my children and wife learn to see not a black man, but a man.