The Changing Leaves of Winter

On Tuesday Barak Obama was sworn in, more than once, as the 44th President of the United States.  I watched the first attempt with many others huddled around a wall mounted television as I anxiously awaited a job interview.  Many around me were slack jawed as the cameras panned over the breadth of the crowd gathered in Washington.  Later that night I heard several news broadcasters approximate the assembly to be anywhere between one and two million people.  Apparently crowd estimation ranks somewhere between alchemy and voodoo as a science. Regardless of the actual figure many more revelers, even those that possessed "golden tickets," were turned away by police and National Guard members due to safety concerns.

When I was in third grade I remember being assigned a report for Black history month and not really understanding why it was necessary to specifically pick someone of African descent. Never the less I chose Jackie Robinson and was thankful at least I would be able to discuss and learn more about baseball.  The month continued with lessons about Martin Luther King’s impact and a musical production that had the entire class chant “We can be like Martin, yes we can!”  Though the teachers gave a valiant effort I only remember being annoyed that I was instructed to aspire to be like anyone else.  The lone positive impression I remember was made by the photos of the hundreds of thousands of people filling the national mall during Dr. King's "I Have a Dream" speech.  To the eight year old version of myself it was the numerous silent observers that were able to communicate the importance of the message.

Tuesdays scene impressed me, not due to President Obama personal speech, Yo-Yo Ma's amazing cello, or Aretha' ginormous bow, but because a record number of people gathered to reflect the progress our nation has made in turning our ideals into our reality.  Martin borrowed a theme from Shakespeare in saying, “The sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality.”  Perhaps Tuesday's crowd was a good sign that autumn is finally coming to America.

Merry Christmas and an Emasculating New Year

2008 was a strong contender for, if not the all out victor, for the coveted spot as worst year out the twenty nine I have lived thus far.  Making a list of the series of unfortunate events might be enjoyable exercise (and Lemony Snickety) but for the sake of the one person I know will be reading this masterwork I'll skip forward to the entertaining conclusion.

 

New Years Eve was first spent at my friend Johnny's house, we played a rousing game of Beer Pong though were defeated soundly in each game.  For those who are not familiar, it is played on a ping pong table, rows of cups placed against each end of the table in the shape of a triangle pointing towards the opposing side.  The cups are filled a quarter way with the beverage of your choice, my own was Woodchuck Cider, as there were no other ciders available at the lone store open New Years Eve, and Johnny's was Diet Mountain Dew, as he has resolved to stop drinking anything he might enjoy.  Abstaining from alcohol I clearly support but I cannot in good conscience let a friend drink Diet Mountain Dew without letting him know he has a problem.  Each player attempts to throw the ping pong ball in one of the opposing teams cups, which removes the cup from the table and the opposing player must drink.  After losing two games quickly I decided that would be the end of the drinking for the evening.

 

At around eleven the women of the group decided we were going visit their friend Jen at her fiancés home, we men apparently had no choice in the matter and dutifully followed.  Her fiancé Rob was back on leave from a Navy training facility in Mississippi and brought home the DVD of his centrifuge training.  The centrifuge machine is intended to mimic the acceleration experience in one of their jets; his body was pushed to 7 g's which if I understood correctly means that a man weighing 180 pounds would essentially feel as if it were 1260 lbs.  Many people pass out because your blood flows away from your brain, but he seemed to do well enough.  God knows I don't trust the government but it was a nice reminder of the sacrifices military personnel make on a routine basis so that others don't have to.

 

After the countdown was replayed from the broadcast in New York, will someone please let Dick Clark know he can retire, the girls decided to put in a bootleg copy of Twilight.  The boyfriends, fiancés, husbands simultaneously made their way outside to exchange inappropriate stories, huddle around a fire pit and smoke cigars.  Our friend Chris was very pleased that he had a Cuban and declared many a time how smooth the taste was.  Cigars are not particularly flavorful to me, or at least not a flavor I particularly care for, however I do enjoy the tradition of smoking one each New Year.  If nothing else on this particular night it did provide a modicum of internal heat.

 

Chris, the aforementioned Cuban smoker, was our designated driver and we made our way home after a couple of hours standing in the cold.  Halfway through the drive he pulled over to the side of the highway, apologized as he exited the vehicle and proceed to eliminate the contents of his stomach in front of the Chevy's headlights.  I personally found this extremely amusing for the following reasons:

 

1) He was the only person in the car that had not had a drop of alcohol

2) Cops were out in full force pulling over suspected drunk drivers

3) The Cuban cigar that he had raved about four hours was clearly the cause of the malady

4) Sam (Samantha) looked horrified as her husband picked the only spot on the shoulder of the road were each passenger in the car would have full view of him singing liquid lyrics

 

HILARIOUS...

 

After the show was over they stayed over until about four in the morning until he felt well enough to get back behind the wheel.  All in all a great beginning to 2009.

 

New Years Day I succumbed to Danielle's pressure and went to see the movie Marley and Me (do not continue reading if you hate spoilers).  The behavior of the "worst dog ever" and the relationship with his owners was all too familiar; the movie spans most of the life of the dog and at the natural conclusion tears were trickling down my cheek.  I attempted to lower myself in the oversized seat to avoid public humiliation but the damage was done.  Men work their entire lives to relieve themselves of the burden of emotion and I'm ashamed the movie represents a grievous set back in my efforts.  We are going to see another movie tonight; I lobbied for Valkyrie so I could reclaim some of my testosterone by celebrating an assassination attempt however it appears the "group" has decided upon Bedtime Stories with Adam Sandler.  

 

My plan for tomorrow is to initiate a fight with a random person, if that doesn't work I might watch Fight Club and look for other solid ideas for reclaiming masculinity.  Happy 2009 everyone!