Inauguration Rumination

I just got off the phone with my Dad, my best friend, a man I often crack jokes about but respect immensely. Dad was born in 1945. He grew up in a racially divided nation, in the South, in Augusta, Georgia.

While I’ve been a fervent supporter of Barack Obama for a long time, Dad’s gone back and forth, not because of race but because of conservative leanings. Trust me, we’ve debated and discussed Barack Obama for hours and hours over the past two and a half years. When Obama declared his run for Presidency, Dad called with excitement to see if I'd heard the news. He wavered toward Hillary, and he defended McCain. Truth be told, we both played devil’s advocate. Dad never spoke a negative word about Barack Obama.

Today Dad told me he’s proud to see “the guy I saw speak in Columbia” become our nation's 44th President. My Dad, a child of the racially divided segregation-era South, has hope in a black President.

When I reflect on my hope for Obama it takes me deep into my family's past and the development of my views on racial diversity, or better yet, harmony.

I began 'following' Obama, for lack of better wording, after his 2004 Democratic Convention speech, the speech that put him on the map. Still, the moment that made me a true supporter came on September 7, 2004 when Alan Keyes said Jesus Christ wouldn’t vote for Obama.

I read the headline and my jaw dropped. How could anyone dream to begin to presume who Christ might possibly vote for in 2004? It was a defining moment in my support for now President Barack Obama.

Reflecting on my past tonight, on my life, I told Dad that my openness was founded in the principles he and my Mom ingrained in me. For example, the two most important songs Mom sang to me as a child were 'Yellow Submarine' and 'Jesus Loves the Little Children'. The former has inspired me to love great music and delve into the Beatles untouchable catalog. The latter laid the foundation for my current theology of inclusion, reconciliation, and God's love for all.

“Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight. Jesus loves the little children of the world.”

My Dad, reflecting on his Dad, told me several stories about Granddaddy reaching out to African-Americans in a violently divided South. The story I’d heard several times over was that of Grandaddy on the steps of the Richmond courthouse as a child, learning how to tapdance from the legendary Mr. Bojangles. I heard how Grandaddy and other kids, mostly black, would gather on the steps and watch Bill Robinson's timeless footwork.

The story I'd heard once or twice, but had long forgotten, came from the late 60’s. Granddaddy was working at the Sears and Roebuck store in Augusta as the paint department manager. With segregation in its waning days, the Augusta Sears hired its first black “floor” employee. Sure, Sears had black janitors and mechanics, but up to this point black employees weren’t allowed to interact with customers.

Every department manger but one refused to have Sears first black floor worker in their department. At a time when racial tension was high, James Stuart Peters welcomed a black man into the paint department. After Grandaddy passed away in 1993, that same worker told my dad that his father had made a profound difference in his life.

As Dad retold this story, I broke down in tears (Dad didn't know it).

This is a story that challenges me today, 40 years later. Who knows how Granddaddy would’ve felt about having a black President. Dad says he'd be proud.

Today, on the East side of a Capitol building built by slaves, Barack Hussein Obama took the oath of office to become the 44th President of the United States of America. As a supporter, as a reconciler, and as a dreamer, I'm proud to say, "yes we can.... and yes we did!"