This Inauguration, I’m planning a small dance party to celebrate America. Next time, with the pandemic behind us, let’s dance on the National Mall.

Ski pants would have been smart, I realized too late, shivering and stomping my feet. In the frigid, pre-dawn dark on Inauguration Day, Jan. 20, 2009, I danced to stay warm as we waited in the long, snaking line of the first security checkpoint a few blocks from the U.S. Capitol.

Thinking of the ski pants left behind in Pennsylvania just made me colder. So I stepped side-to-side, bounced on the balls of my feet and pulled my knees up to my chest, one at a time — a mini, personal dance party just to get some energy and heat moving. 

Before 4 a.m. on this historic day, my then-husband and I left the apartment of a friend’s son, who kindly offered his dining room floor for our air mattress so we could be in D.C. to witness the Inauguration of America’s first African-American president. 

Beyond the security gates, the alabaster white dome of the Capitol building shined bright against the inky black sky.

A spectacular sight, stirring my awe and pride. Our country. My country. The best, most just, most free and beautiful country in the world.

I never imagined nearly 12 years later, I would watch real-time on TV from our living room as insurrectionists from a violent and vicious home-grown mob fought police in hand-to-hand combat through the gates, up the steps, breaking through glass doors and windows and rampaging through the halls of our Capitol.

“Get OUT of OUR house!” I screamed the afternoon of Jan. 6, tears streaming down my face, as if my own home was being invaded. The newsfeed shook me and I felt a similar, disturbing sense of violation from many years before after discovering an intruder had broken in and ransacked my apartment.

We were safe, I reminded myself to pull it together during the Capitol attack. Our big dog was becoming quite alarmed. While the danger was ugly, fierce and too close to home, it was not at our doorstep. We were safe.

As new information and video from the attack on our Capitol surfaces, I am nauseous with outrage and smoldering anger. What the hell happened here in America?

A Somber, Peaceful Transfer of Power

No crowds will dance on the National Mall Wednesday. It is closed for security and COVID.

Joe Biden’s Inauguration as the 46^th U.S. president will be an entirely different affair, despite that America has also elected Kamala Harris as the first Vice President who is a woman and woman-of-color. This Inauguration is likely to be quite somber — appropriately so as the coronavirus death toll has surpassed 400,000 Americans. Sadly, this inauguration will unfold behind a fortress of barbed wire and National Guard protection.

Pray the security will ensure a safe and peaceful transfer of power, so our American family can reckon with how we got here, heal and America can prevail on her promise. This will take some time. We will once again dance on the National Mall. We must.

A reminder that this blog is not about politics, but about finding peace, making your own peace, exploring peace — and hanging onto it. 

America, we need some peace. 

We’ve descended to a place somewhere beyond and below politics and we must claw our way back. We must have peace. 

The peaceful transfer of power makes our United States an exceptional country. This is essential to a democracy. I’d taken this peaceful transfer for granted, and barely thought about it before attending President Barack Obama’s Inauguration in 2009. 

Which is the point: American kids grow up not having to worry about the future of their country, not realizing what a blessing that is.

Up Close & Personal

I’m a moderate liberal — committed to free, healthy lives, families and communities; a champion of business, particularly local businesses and entrepreneurs; respectful of science, faith and striving to live in balance with the natural world.

For decades, I’ve counted liberals and conservatives, Republicans and Democrats among my family, extended family, friends and co-workers. We can disagree on policy and agree on fundamentals of American democracy: A peaceful transfer of power, the checks and balances to power, the rejection of violence, the Constitution.  

There is no place in America for racism, violence or systemic injustice. We must keep striving to realize the full promise of America.

Every American should attend a presidential inauguration in person. See our Capitol dressed in her finest stars and stripes with your own eyes. She is glorious. Listen to the music and poetry our country’s best artists compose for an historic occasion. Experience this all-out celebration of democracy.

Just not this year. Not Wednesday. 

I’ll be watching from home, reminding myself to breathe, and sipping hot mint tea to stay calm. 

What Peace Looked Like in 2009: A Crowd Filling the National Mall

We all long for normal. How far we’ve unraveled and down-spiraled away from normal this past year, and — in other respects — in just four years since the last Inauguration.

Twelve years ago, that morning of Inauguration Day, 2009, as the largest crowd ever to attend any event in Washington, D.C., descended on the nation’s capitol, this is what peace looked like from my spot in the first security line:

Groggy folks cracked jokes, clapped their hands, sang songs, two-stepped and swayed in their spots, staying warm and festive. The gathering crowd was cheerful and ready to bear witness and celebrate, their bodies too full of joy and hope to be cold.

America had elected her first black president. An amazing day full of hope and optimism was just beginning. We watched the sky over the dome lighten in glowing periwinkle then peachy-salmon streaks.

We spotted sharp-shooters watching from the rooftops of the federal buildings near the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum where we waited a few blocks into the Southwest District from the Capitol grounds. 

Yet, I felt safe. 

My then-spouse had volunteered for the Democrats in the 2008 election, then called all of the local congressional representatives in search of Inauguration tickets. (Full disclosure: He planned every detail of our trip. Otherwise, I would have watched from the couch.)

A Republican congressman from central Pennsylvania secured tickets for him, a volunteer for the other party. That’s how it should be. When the election is over, we rise as Americans to put our country above party or any single person. We respect the will of the voters and prepare for the peaceful transfer of power.

Think, for a moment, of just how unlikely that was in the fall of 2020, when a sitting U.S. president refused to commit to the peaceful transfer of power, worked to overturn election results, repeatedly failed to produce proof of election problems in court, still refused to concede and repeatedly lied to people that the election was stolen — even during an attack on the Capitol.

And — all this when America was already battered by a staggering loss of human life, loss of normal daily life and grappling with unprecedented economic losses from the pandemic.

A Sea of People

In January 2009, our tickets allowed us to stand on the lawn of the Capitol Grounds in the first standing section just behind the audience of VIPs seated in folding chairs on the lawn. 

When we’d passed both security check-points and reached a spot 10, maybe 20 yards from those first gates, I could not believe how close we were. Through the morning we met people and took pictures, held onto our spot, ate the sandwiches we’d packed.

In time, all the spaces filled in and a sea of people stretched from the Capitol to the Washington Monument — and perhaps even beyond. 

The crowd closed in all around us and pushed us even closer, which was uncomfortable but bearable — especially once the music began.

The angelic voices of the San Francisco Boys Chorus and San Francisco Girls Chorus, then the spirited horns of the United States Marine Band sailed out from the western front of the Capitol. The notes from the strings of Yo-Yo Ma’s cello and Itzhak Perlman’s violin lifted us in “Simple Gifts” — a familiar tune and now a favorite hymn.

Watch it here.

With my naked eyes, I saw the huge grey bow on Aretha Franklin’s hat when the Queen of Soul took center-stage and belted out My Country ‘Tis of Thee. My bones remember how her voice sounded singing about our country.

If I stood up on my tippy toes and looked through my then-spouse’s zoom lens, I could actually see the speakers and performers. I peeked through the lens again to watch as Obama took his oath to defend the constitution as president.

We chanted O-BA-MA, O-BA-MA, then quieted so the new president could begin his speech.

He entered office during the Great Recession, with a hopeful message that it was up to all of us to get America back on track. Those words ring true again today.

“Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off and begin again the work of remaking America,” said Obama.  

Then it was over. We walked back through the city, warm from the early afternoon sunshine and movement, happy after witnessing history. As we made our way block by block, back out to the neighborhood where our car was parked, we saw people walking, celebrating, dancing.

On the drive north back to central Pennsylvania, the car heater thawed me. Still shivering, I sipped hot soup at a diner in southeastern Pennsylvania.

Reckoning Ahead

My life is much different than it was 12 years ago. That marriage to the spouse who scored tickets to Obama’s Inauguration failed. We live and learn.

I fell head-over-heels in love with a wonderful man and his two sons — now my stepsons, our grown sons — and moved to their house in a conservative county in rural Pennsylvania.

Trump has been popular here and handily won this county in 2016 and 2020. For the most part, during these years, I’ve treated politics like a sizzling potato and avoided talking politics in our family and community. Facebook has been too toxic of a forum, too polluted with disinformation for any productive civil discourse.

My thinking: We all have to remain family, neighbors and community on the other side of the Trump presidency. That’s true. That’s important.

But does that make me a peacemaker or a coward? Perhaps I was too quiet and complicit. That’s my personal reckoning. 

Because it’s also paramount to return to some level of norms and peace in our American family. To challenge misinformation and radicalization.

Let’s Be Brave, And Trust We Will Dance Together Again

On Inauguration Day, 2017, I was hopeful, and prepared to give Trump a chance. I believe in the norm that when an American President is successful, we are all successful. He lied to us that first day, boasting the largest Inauguration Day crowd ever. I looked carefully at the pictures, remembering that sea of people who gathered to watch Obama. I was there.

To say things went downhill from there is an understatement. The Trump presidency is down to its final hours. We have almost survived it.

We would be wise to understand what led him to be so popular, why his message resonated with so many people — many of them good, honest people who would never commit the acts of violence we saw at the Capitol. Historians, social scientists and psychologists are best to answer that and other critical questions about what happened.

Some people must not want peace. Violent extremists must not prevail. 

Let’s do the hard work of grieving, understanding each other and healing. Let’s be sure to dance on the National Mall again in four years. I plan to be there (with really warm clothes). How about you?

Because we must. This is America, and we will not — we absolutely cannot — lose our beautiful, exceptional country.

Looking back has brought me some comfort and soothed my nerves. These words from President Obama’s Inauguration speech in 2009 remind me America’s promise may have stalled, but will not be broken.

“With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children’s children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God’s grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.”

When power has peacefully passed and President Biden takes office, I’ll dance in my kitchen and look ahead to working with our American family. May we dance on the National Mall again in four years. Whether a Republican or Democrat takes the oath in the peaceful transition of power, I’ll dance for America. We shall. We must.

The crowd that gathered for President Obama’s Inauguration in 2009 was the largest to ever attend any event in Washington, D.C., according to the Library of Congress.