Inauguration brings mixed memories

Dear Readers: I ask your permission to share a bit of my experience on Jan. 20. I offer my observations not from a political perspective but from an American one.

I was one of the estimated 2 million people who descended upon the nation’s capital to witness firsthand this historic moment. In the icy chill of January, the streets were swollen with pedestrians.

On the eve of the inauguration, I began to make my way to visit my uncle who had come to town from Pittsburgh. While walking, I traveled down memory lane. I marched in Washington when I was in college to ensure there would be a Martin Luther King Jr. Day. I was part of a long queue of citizens who believed this great man who lived and died for us all should be celebrated. It felt good to know that, as our country prepared to usher in a new president who is African-American, we had years ago chosen to honor King annually for his great work.

Reaching my uncle inspired more memories. Wendell Grimke Freeland is an 83-year-old Tuskegee airman who had been invited by the Presidential Inaugural Committee as a special guest. I listened to Uncle Wendell share a riveting story of how he, an officer in the U.S. Army Air Corps during World War II, was greeted at gunpoint because he had chosen to enter the Officers’ Club at Freeman Field, a military base near Seymour, Ind., an act that while legal was being challenged as illegal that day. My uncle and ultimately 101 other “colored” officers, most barely 20 years old, also stared down machine guns as they stood their ground at Godman Field, near Fort Knox, Ky.

Uncle Wendell’s stories were shocking to hear in 2009. Which makes his contemporary reality all the more compelling. My uncle is a lifelong Republican who temporarily changed his party affiliation so he could vote for Barack Obama in the Pennsylvania primary. He reminded me that his mother, my grandmother Carrie Freeland, used to say how proud she was that she had lived long enough to vote for a black man as mayor of Baltimore (Kurt Schmoke, in 1987, when she was 99 years old). My uncle said he could now count himself like his mom, because he could vote for a black man for president, a man he felt would govern the country with grace. Uncle Wendell then reminded me of my namesake, my great-great-grandmother Harriette Ann, who received manumission and in turn bought her husband’s freedom.

As I walked more and interacted with people, I learned bits of their stories. We are a beautiful tapestry, the American people. Each of us has a legacy worthy of recalling, especially now. I am so proud that our country could and did vote in spite of race. I think it says something great about all of us, no matter our political views. Our nation is claiming a vision of equality. What will that mean for the rest of the world?