The following is a Counterpoint:
By Nancy Probst
Several months ago, I made plane reservations to visit my daughter over the Martin Luther King weekend. She teaches in Tampa, and we looked forward to spending the weekend together.
Later, I realized that I’d be traveling home on Jan. 20, missing the swearing-in of our new president. Before leaving, I programmed the VCR, but sound bites wouldn’t be enough.
I had an early flight with a connection in Charlotte and arrived with almost four hours to kill before my next flight.
I looked for a gate with a TV monitor, hoping to watch the events unfold, but there are no gates with TVs in Charlotte.
I found a bar with six TVs — three tuned to inauguration festivities. I stood outside, watching through the glass and reading captions on the screen.
Tired of standing and frustrated at not being able to hear, I entered and secured a stool in front of a screen. A special day warranted a special treat, so a beer and a burger was a small price to pay for a stool and TV with sound.
As I watched the swearing-in, tears began rolling down my face. As I fought unsuccessfully to control them, I looked at the others seated near me.
There wasn’t a dry face among them. I was overwhelmed with emotions — awe, gratitude, patriotism, hope and disbelief. As a child of the 1950s, I remembered early civil rights struggles on our primitive, grainy, black-and-white TV.
I recalled the attack dogs and fire hoses and black children being barred from entering white schools and colleges.
As a college student in the 1960s in Washington, I witnessed the Poor People’s March, the tent city on the mall and the aftermath of Martin Luther King’s assassination.
Never could I imagine a day when I would witness a black man pledging to uphold the Constitution as our 44th president. My mind and heart struggled to comprehend the enormity.
As Chief Justice Roberts completed the oath, the entire bar, as well as everyone gathered outside, erupted into loud cheers. I felt part of a community — anonymous travelers united for an hour in observance of a special moment in our nation’s history
As I reluctantly left my bar community for the departure gate, I was warmed by hope that President Obama will begin to unite this country the way he did this group of strangers in a bar — from all corners of the country and all walks of life.
The writer lives in Greensboro.