All my bags are packed

And I'm ready to go

The thank you notes with the url (password: obama44) for the photos of the ball/social have gone out, and the most gratifying messages are coming in from those who were there, as well as bits and pieces of so many others' experiences, watching the inauguration from The Plough and Stars in Philadelphia with other MYBO groups, or stuck in the tunnel with everyone else from the purple section group, or the serendipity of receiving a ticket to the silver section from another supporter at our very own ball.

Some of us who were in Washington ended up watching on television (again and again, due to the wonder of TiVo), wondering if we regretted our choices. You make them. You don't regret them.

Now, I return home to my son and husband to face the dog fur, the maddeningly, frustratingly disappointing contractor (who I would love to disappoint me in not -- disappointing me -- after all --) and everything that happened while I wasn't there to make sure it didn't, or wouldn't, or let it go.

I'm wearing my easy to take off and put back on shoes.

....

The Purple Ticket of DOOM

or, the reality of change

"The tunnel people sing Lean on Me to keep from going crazy. "

Purple Tunnel of Doom -- A Song

The lyrics:

Well I gotta tell ya, a little story, about a line I was in.
Woke up early in the morning shoulda had me some gin.
Yeah i was up so early to the subway, the morning barely began.
So crowded there at the station, only Waldo would grin.

But i rode that train to
the Purple Tunnel of Doom.

Line snaked straight through the highway, under 395.
People clamoring for a little elbow room, just to stay alive.
And me? I just stood there with my camera and i took it all in.
The patriotic songs interspersed by chants of "Please let us in,"

Oh why can't we leave here?
This Purple Tunnel of Doom.

We've been standing here without direction for far too long.
Won't the Good Lord send us someone who knows what's going on?
If any of us had any idea this is how it would be,
We would have just junked their tickets, and waited for 2013.

I hope by then there's no...
Purple Tunnel of Doom

So the gates were closed at 11 am.
People out there, standing there everywhere, screaming "Please let us In!"
And me? I just stood there with my camera.
I laughed and i cried.
That tunnel was just so damned gross, smelled like something had died.

I guess there's no circulation...
In Purple Tunnels of Doom
(Purple Tunnels of Doom)
The Purple Tunnel of Doom
(Purple Tunnel of Doom)
Purple Tunnel of Doom.

Its just like a black tunnel of doom,
Except the people in it have purple tickets.
It's kind of like a cricket match.

....

Saudia's experience in the tunnel

in her words

The most amazing thing in all of this is that there was not ONE arrest (even if there WERE there were no cops around to arrest anyone), no fights, no riots. Not in the tunnel or outside of the Purple Gates or anywhere in DC on Inauguration Day. Everyone kept their cool. There WERE moments of frustration & chanting & yelling & anger & it DID get tense & scary at times, but we all kept each other calm & focused.

It truly is a miracle that this thing did not get out of control. It speaks to the humanity, spirit & common good of the people that were drawn to DC for Obama. And I think it speaks to Obama & the way he makes people feel.

That being said, after you look at these pix & videos I think no one would have blamed us if we let loose with a full on riot! What breaks my heart the most is thinking about all of the elderly black folk who were in line with us at the crack of dawn, some of them with canes & walkers. They were so proud & elegant & happy, dressed up in their Obama gear. They were subjected to such an indignity, standing in that tunnel for 5-7 hours only to be locked out with the rest of us. I can’t even think about it without crying. They, more than anyone, in my opinion, deserve an apology. Also, the folks with small kids - they were troopers.

I guess we were lucky in that when THE MOMENT happened we were out of the tunnel. Some folks were still in it. We were right at the gate packed in so tight that my body got turned sideways…and I couldn’t run around.

I’ll be doing a write up about my trip…once I get my mind around it all & come to terms with what happened. And I will explain what we did when history was made; how we experienced THE MOMENT is really quite moving….even if it isn’t the way we all envisioned it. It is a memory that I cling to with all my heart & soul for it WAS our moment – shared with other Purple Ticket People, a special bond we will share forever.

....

And Lonnee

http://www.barackoblogger.com/2009/01/cursed-purple-tickets-or-how-i-worked.html
....

And Nikki

one of our biggest helpers for the MYBO GIB 2009, the Social!, quoted in the Washington Post

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/01/24/AR2009012401928.html?sid=ST2009012402203&s_pos

....

And Marcia

Or, one woman's account -- in her own words -- of how she made it through the Gate

Since you asked ... Ted and I were very lucky to get tickets to the Inauguration. It was truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience!

Ted got a silver ticket and I got a purple ticket (both were in "standing" areas but we weren't able to stand together). We were just happy to have tickets which allowed us to get closer to the Capitol than those without tickets. To give you a quick summary, we got up at 3:15 am Tuesday morning! The Loudoun County Democrats had chartered 4 buses ... we boarded our bus at 5 am and arrived at RFK Stadium in DC around 7 am. We then waited in line for a shuttle bus to the Mall. Two other ardent Loudoun volunteers (Patti and Toni, a mother-daughter team) who also had purple tickets joined us on the shuttle bus. By the way, Patti is 69 years old with knee problems but she's an amazingly determined person and did not slow us down at all! Everything went smoothly on the shuttle until we got stuck in "bus gridlock" on Southwest Freeway. Our bus inched along for nearly 2 hours ... we were only a few blocks from the Mall but the driver wouldn't let anyone off because we were on an elevated freeway! We finally were able to disembark at 6th Street SW around 9 am. We "landed" in a huge crowd of people all heading for the Mall ... I've never seen anything like it but everyone was happy and excited and gracious ... it was fun! Most streets were closed off to pedestrians so we all moved together until we got to Independence Ave (which borders the south side of the Mall). Then the folks with tickets turned right and everyone else turned left. About 20 minutes later, we reached the silver entrance and Ted was able to get in right away (lucky guy). Because the purple entrance was on the north side of the Mall and there was absolutely no way to walk across the mall, Toni, Patti and I had no option but to take the 3rd Street tunnel under the Mall to get to the purple entrance gate. We ended up doing a lot of back-tracking to find the entrance to the tunnel ... and the tunnel turned out to be very crowded and extremely long, but we finally emerged at Massachusetts Avenue around 9:45 am. We learned later that we were very lucky to get through the tunnel (I think it was because we had inadvertently selected the southbound tunnel, not the northbound tunnel in which the bottleneck occurred. As you know, a LOT of people were stuck there and never saw the Inauguration! I was glad to hear that Senator Dianne Feinstein has called for an investigation to get to the bottom of the Purple Tunnel of Doom episode. After we emerged from the tunnel, we walked several blocks following the directions we'd been given by a couple of policemen along the route, and we ended up getting totally stuck in a jam-packed street filled with purple ticket holders ... the crowd was packed tightly between the buildings on each side of the street. We knew we had to figure a way out of this mess or we wouldn't make it to the purple gate before they closed it (we were 3 blocks away from the gate and heard they were going to lock it at 11:30 am). We were fortunate again ... all of a sudden an ambulance needed to come down our side of the street. Although it was inching its way along because of the crowd, we were able to squeeze behind it and follow it until it stopped near the end of the block. When we finally got to the corner, a policeman told us there was an accident in the next block and we needed to take a detour around that block. That also turned out to be fortunate, because about 10 minutes later we ended up behind a funnel of people outside the purple gate! Given the size of this group, we were still not sure we'd make the cutoff (turns out they didn't lock the gate until noon but, even then, a LOT of purple ticket holders were turned away ... Senator Feinstein's investigation will also look into why they closed any of the ticket gates since there was still room for more folks in every section on the Mall). Anyway, we made it through at 11:10 am and we were jubilant!!

Once in, we had a lot of fun finding a good spot to see the Swearing-In Ceremony and Obama's speech ... we couldn't get close enough to see the individuals speaking (including Obama) and a big tree blocked the jumbotron screen closest to us, but we had a wonderful time anyway. Everyone in the crowd was in a jubilant mood ... it was a wonderfully happy and diverse crowd ... by far, the largest crowd of people I have ever been in. Although it was a really cold day, everyone I saw was excited to be there and enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime experience. Throughout the day (even when we were all crushed together), people were laughing and kind to others, trying to make sure no one got hurt. In fact, we learned later that there were no serious problems at all that day ... no violence, no arrests, and no serious injuries (except for medical emergencies) ... a true success given the size of the crowd (estimated at nearly 2 million ... the largest crowd in DC's history)! I thought Barack's speech was amazing ... in fact, everyone around me also seemed to be deeply moved by his words of hope. After the ceremony, we tried to meet up with our friends at Union Station. However, when they closed Union Station around 3 pm because of the mobs of people, Ted and I walked the 2 miles back to RFK Stadium (we didn't dare take another shuttle bus), found our chartered bus, arrived back in Loudoun around 6 pm, and had a wonderful time watching the balls on TV. Sure hope you enjoyed the Inauguration as much as we did. What a truly historic day!! I truly believe that if we roll up our sleeves and work together, we will be able to solve the difficult problems our country is facing right now and America will be stronger than ever.

....

Meredith


who traveled all the way from Lautrec, France with her Obama Bridge Project for our
MYBO Grassroots Inaugural Ball 2009, the Social!
and to represent Dems Abroad, Toulouse at the inauguration

and did not make it in

with her purple ticket and husband Robyn Ellis
in front of a Homeland Insecurity vehicle, as she calls it

I'm just back to Lautrec and catching up....

I hope you got into the swearing-in!

I didn't! This was my report to our chapter:

I traveled to Washington, D.C. for the inauguration, representing, I hoped, our Toulouse Chapter of Democrats Abroad and the Obama Bridge Project -- but all didn't go as planned...

I've joined the Facebook groups, Survivers of the Purple Tunnel of Gloom, to commiserate with thousands of others of ticket holders who also traveled long distances only to be turned away from the Swearing-in Ceremony at the Capitol.

High school football games have better crowd control!

No volunteers, no stewards, no signs, no megaphones informing the crowd of problems, no interest or sympathy from police on duty.

Unbelievable incompetence.

If the crowd had not been so good-willed and happy about Obama, it could have been a disaster. I got so close to the purple entry gate that I could watch the security checks through a barrier -- and see how few people they processes in sporadic batches.

Trying to un-gnash my teeth...

Democrats abroad Toulouse Excom member Angela Shaw DID get in, but Strasbourg Chaiar Susan Vaillant did not; Obama Super-gelegate from Ireland, Liv Gibbons did not; Executive Director of Democrats Abroad, Linsey Renolds did not; Obama coordinator Kim Reed did not -- along with some 5 to 10 thousand other Obama supporters who traveled from far and wide to witness history.

At least Obama is Preside nt!

How do you make God laugh?
Tell him your plans....

Meredith Wheeler

....

For all your missed swearing-in shopping needs

http://www.ialmostwitnessedhistory.com/

Enjoy!

....

Help sponsor the MYBO Grassroots Inaugural Ball 2009, the Social!

Use this convenient button to go directly to PayPal -- secure, fast and easy -- to make your non tax deductible donation of any amount you chose -- from $10 to $1,000 -- to help us make the MYBO Grassroots Inaugural Ball 2009, the Social a wonderful, memorable evening of celebration with so many people you have come to consider colleagues and friends on MYBO, made even better by plentiful -- thanks to your generous donation! -- food, drinks and entertainment for our honest-to-goodness "grassroots" ticket price of $26 per person.

Let no one feel excluded because they cannot afford a ticket!

Thank you one and all!

The Organizers,
Mary and Jacqueline

PS: And, remember, BYOC! Or, Bring Your Own Champagne! We are asking everyone attending to consider coming with a bottle or two, or three, of champagne, white wine or fine beers and ales to help defray our bar costs and make sure that the evening flows with the nectar of the gods!

Will she stay or will she go now?

If I go, there will be trouble.

And if I stay it will be double.

I started this, I didn't let it go (when I absolutely could have), and so I have no choice but to see it through.

I want to. I really do. I just don't feel like moving. I haven't gotten on a flight to the States (or from the States) in 3 years and 2 months and 1 week. I'm not afraid to fly. It's not that. I dislike flying transatlantic. It's so uncomfortable, and you have no alternative but to suffer, back in economy with the rest of the freight. My feet swell. My legs gets jumpy and ache, and then I watch the women who get off the flight (why are they so often Asian and from the countries of the southern climes?) in strappy sandals and manage to walk perfectly normally, and I feel a confusion, an incomprehension, a resentment that overcomes me.

I am fine right here.

But I can't be there to see through a project I pretty much started, but never would have gotten to the point of an actual event with real ticket sales without my partners in organization -- only 50% of whom (two) saw the sanity in going on after a certain point --, without getting on a flight to somewhere reasonably close to Washington, DC. That involves flying over the Atlantic. My feet will swell, my legs will ache and ache. I will suffer. And then I will have to turn around and do it in the other sense (oops, that's the French creeping in; I mean direction). It's too late to take a boat.

I was not only born with a silver spoon in my undeserving mouth, I was born with a ticket in first class in my passport pouch and a car waiting for my directions at the airport.

It has become a modest event, having nearly reached the heights of... hubris. Icarus flying too high. One of my partners used that word, hubris, fairly often actually. If he didn't, I did. More intimate now, a cocktail party, and if we exceed the parlor in attendance, then we will spill over into a large room, and we'll be sure to provide music you can dance to. BYOC (Bring Your Own Champagne), but a wine and beer bar, to which we encourage all attending to bring a bottle or two, or three, of champagne, wine or fine, imported beers and ales to make sure the Nectar of the gods flows. We were determined that if we were going to simplify it and make something happen for the faithful of MYBO, then we were not going to charge more than $25 plus fees (Event Brite and Google Check-out).

We also found a way to honor another wish that we had, a sense of obligation in addition to having an event at which to meet and celebrate, in the first place: a community service aspect. Howard Park of DC for Obama, who has been unfailingly kind and nonjudgmental of our efforts, while he was busy with their own, offered us the opportunity to associate ourselves with anything they were doing. I read the list, and saw the Day of Service for which they are collaborating with Mayor Fenty's office, distributing food to those in need throughout the day outside the MLK Memorial Library (9 am to 4 pm).

That was it. I forwarded the email to my remaining partner, and she said, "That's it! Rather than just eating and drinking like gluttons, we can offer our service and then eat and drink like gluttons." She's from the northern Mid-west. I appreciate that sort of concern. The truth is, as she knows perfectly well, unless people Bring Their Own Bottles, we won't be drinking like gluttons at all. We'll, be, as she put it, "Raising a toast." Tippling delicately, would be another way to put it. The point, everyone, is to have a warm and convivial place in which to meet and celebrate our victory at a price that couldn't possibly leave anyone who really wanted to come out.

If I don't go, how will I live with myself? The 19th would be tough to get through. I'd be imaging a few people doing the work I am supposed to be helping with without me, and then I'd be imagining them greeting and talking with people I have actually wanted to meet in person for quite some time. I'd have to image Mary explaining that I just couldn't face traveling, for a variety of reasons, to a person who simply n'en revient pas hearing that. They'd never know all my reasons, and even if I explained them very carefully --, well, I wouldn't do that. I'd start with the swelling feet and the aching legs, the trauma of economy class for 7 1/2 hours (and I am only 5'-4". Yes, I know, I seem much taller in writing.) and they'd already be thinking unacceptable things about me.

Unacceptable to me.

I can't even say there are no flights at a reasonable price to Philadelphia, where I will fly, because there are. Very reasonable. US Air, 448 euros round trip. If I said it, I would have to suffer the agony of lying, which my mother always told me, when I was little, that I did very poorly.

"Don't lie," she'd say, "You're a terrible liar. You're transparent as a piece of tape." I don't think there was even Scotch Magic Tape yet then. I had an over-developed conscience.

I still do.

To wit, the ball going on through its agonistes to finish in whatever form in which it can finally limp over the finish line on January 19.

Nerves. Fear of failing at conversation. Of not being able to fit into my black slacks, and, worse, facing shopping for something new when I can't. No carbs for a week, and the gym -- double session, even -- every day until I have to drag myself to the airport. I know you only lose water, but that's fine. I only need a quick, even temporary, fix. No wine. Ouch. No sugar in my baked apples -- my concession to a sweet tooth. They're just like regular apples, only mushier and tasting of cinnamon. Apple pie without the crust and without the sugar. Warm and comforting when it's f _ _ _ _ _ g freezing outside (and inside).

Which reminds me, I have to remember to call for a heating oil delivery Monday so Audouin and Sam don't run the risk of running out, and freezing solid, during my absence.
....

Grassroots Ball Agonistes: The crisis of the people-made ball

Update: With a mere 25% of the original number of people who asked to be signed up on our emailing list responding to our poll, representing a very small percentage of the more than 1200 tickets that represented almost two months ago now, we had to make the decision to cancel the event. The reasons why are contained in this post, written December 24, 2008. Christmas Eve.

We are truly sorry to see this end so differently than we imagined in the first flush of the post-election euphoria. To all of those who showed such enthusiasm and unwavering support, thank you.


Perhaps you have been checking here for news from time to time, wondering what's happening, if anything at all. I have sworn myself to a sort of discretion, a virtual white-out of news on the Ball because it is a complex and delicate business to organize, but we are in the final hours of decision-making, and we are not all of the same mind.

Wait. That's what happens in government, too.

We all felt so monolithically committed in our support for Obama, even while we fought monumentally over whether he was right or wrong to vote for the FISA bill this year, or right or wrong not to hate Hillary Clinton forever, or to pay her campaign debt, that it was always rather surprising to find ourselves in désarroi.

But that is what is starting to interest me the most, oddly; it's the process itself, how we can start with a shared dream, build momentum from one another's excitement and passion, discover our points of désaccord, experience let-down, frustration, and even anger as we encounter difficulties, set-backs and conflicts, and then -- out of respect for one another and the importance of our relationships and work -- sit down and think about how to proceed, even manage to at all because the people involved are as important to all of us as the success of the project itself.

How many times in the MYBO listservs did the atmosphere become tense, did a voice or two speak out and remind us all of why we were there, and that we hold one another in esteem, did cooler heads prevail and we go on? It's the same. It's a process that can teach us all a lot that we can use in our lives, at home, at work, in political action. Speak your heart, as well as your mind, and do it from that place in yourself.

The ball has been hard. Harder than we imagined when we started out. I suppose no one starts out imagining the obstacles, or no one would ever begin anything. Those of us working to put it all together have made many discoveries about people -- most heartening, some laughable. There are some flakes out there, and they are not all falling to the ground to blanket Chicago in snow for its white Christmas.

We succeeded, and we failed. Or, perhaps better said, we have met with success and with failure. We have raised money that can be considered significant from among the individuals supporting our ball, and we nearly did from an individual, who chose in the end not to, without ever really making that choice final, or clear. Inference is sometimes good enough, or has to be.

There have been successes that have been very important to me. Yesterday, a $50 contribution arrived in the PayPal account from someone who has nothing to gain from their contribution to help make the ball happen, other than perhaps to help make sure there's a ball to be able to purchase a ticket to, and at a price that is close to "grassroots". That person might have thought that their $50 was "nothing" compared to others' $2,000, $1,000 or $500 (non tax deductible) donations, but that isn't how it felt to me when I heard about it. I felt indebted to that person and grateful for their gesture of support, that is really a gesture of belief in the dream that I had, that the other organizers had, that the more than 600 people who contacted us to get themselves and their friends and family on our list for news of the ball, when the tickets would be available had, too.

And the people who have joined us to offer their time and energy, their encouragement, their contacts, anything they had, and offered their thanks for our efforts. No matter what happens to this ball, I will carry forward this group of people like a community that will live inside me. I don't know how to visit that place, or see all those people, but knowing they are there is about enough. I know that one day there will be another project, another mission, and I will reach out to them, or they will reach out to me.

Today, we will be asking everyone on our lists to go to the website and take a survey. The answers to the three questions will be "Yes, I still planning to purchase tickets to the Grassroots Ball for the people of Mybarackobama.com to meet and celebrate our victory in Washington, DC on January 19, and hurry up!", "No, thank you, I have already made other plans for the inauguration," and "No. I just can't get to Washington, after all."

We need to know if 700 people sure will purchase tickets so that we can make the deposit on the space in downtown Washington with confidence. It can hold up to 1,500, and we have the option to grow the event to that capacity if ticket sales are strong.

We have become timid about committing our sponsor's money in an event that might have lost its momentum without our knowing it, especially in such uncertain times. Asking you is our best way to know if your silence has been your polite and remarkable patience, or proof of your loss of interest.

Like Barack said to us throughout the campaign, more and more frequently as the numbers coming to see him grew beyond anyone's wildest imagings, this ball was never about we, the organizers, it's about you, and it's for you if you want it. If you don't, that's fine. Personally, I can accept hearing that, but I can't as easily accept ending it all because we are worried the time and the opportunity are already behind us without having asked you if they are.

We shall see what happens today, and in the next hours, and then we will know.

For those wondering why nothing has been happening on the website, we decided spontaneously to communicate via our email lists rather than continue to promote a ball there that was at risk of not happening owing to fund-raising disappointments and their impact on the ticket prices that we could offer.

As it stands, they would be a minimum of $175, possibly closer to $200, and we would try to offer a percentage of the total tickets available at the $100 level for those whose means are limited. As we had always intended with our "Joe-the-Plumber" Ticket Plan, we would ask everyone to stop and think before purchasing and ask themselves if they really needed that $100 ticket, or if they could leave it for someone who does, each according to his conscience, and the fiscal philosophy Barack Obama laid out to Sam Wurtzenbacher in Ohio.

Please go to http://www.grassrootsballdc2009.com and take the poll to tell us if you will be buying tickets for the ball. Please have each person in your party take the poll so that we get an accurate read on the number of tickets we are sure to sell. To do that, each person needs to register on the website and then take the poll. If we get a strong enough response, we go ahead. It's that simple. We need to sell 700 tickets.

Thank you, everyone.



http://www.grassrootsballdc2009.com
....

Black tie is so

"George Bush, Texas Nouveau Riche, Wall Street, 20th century.
Wear the Exact Outfit of Steve Jobs for $458."

To an inaugural ball?

Casual January 20?

I don't know. I don't think so. That's just not working for me. How about you?

Do parents insist that their kids wear something appropriate for "the occasion" anymore, or is a plaid shirt, North Face fleece vest and a pair of hiking sneakers -- black long-sleeved t-shirt and expensive jeans if you're as cool as Steve Jobs -- good for every occasion these days?

I thought even guys were sick of being "dressed down" all the time? Or was that just a marketing stunt placed in the New York Times fashion section to get men to start buying clothes again rather then searching the bottom of their hamper before heading to work?

Come on, even my son loved wearing his first tuxedo when he was in kindergarden (He dressed as James Bond for Halloween specifically so he could wear one, and James Bond is pretty cool, too.), and he had a suit, 5 dress shirts, 5 ties, and a nice overcoat before his 16th birthday. He insisted. I just taught him how to use a pants hanger.

Barack has reportedly bought his first new tux in 15 years, and, as Katharine Q. Seelye headlines her December 8 article in the New York Times, "In a New Tux, Obama Seeks the Proper Tone."

Yes, in a new tux, and as everyone knows by now, that new tux will be union made in America. Jobs, guys. It's about jobs for Americans, too. And, wait, are those Levi's Jobs is wearing? (I can't quite make out the pocket stitching detail.) Where are those American Levi's made these days?

Uh-oh.

ShoppingBlog.com reports, "Barack Obama is getting a new tuxedo. His current tux is fifteen years old. The new tux will be union-made by Hart Schaffner Marx." You can get one, too, at Nordstroms for just $895, according to MSNBC's report (see below).

And, according to a Women's Wear Daily report in the same post, "Bruce Raynor, the general president of Unite Here, the big apparel union, talked to Women's Wear Daily about the President-Elect's new tuxedo," and here's what he had to say:

Raynor told WWD that he was recently on a phone call with the President-elect and six other union presidents when the talk turned to what Obama would wear on the big day, which is expected to draw from 1 million to 4 million people to Washington. "As soon as he got on the phone, he told me he was working on his new tuxedo from Hart Schaffner Marx," Raynor said. "He said after 15 years, it is time for a new one." The Chicago-based men's wear firm, founded in 1883, was one of the first clothing companies to enter into a collective bargaining agreement with a union in 1911. Homi Patel, president, chairman and chief executive officer of parent Hartmarx Corp. said he is working with the President-elect's staff to determine whether Obama will wear a suit with a topcoat to the inauguration ceremony.

I don't see anything about comfy jeans and understated black t-shirts there.

But let's see what Henri Bendel (That's in New York City, on Fifth Avenue, guys.) stylist to the celebrities Seth Rabinowitz had to say on MSNBC...

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Mmmm, nope. No jeans there, either. Obama's too cool and elegant for jeans, Seth says, and "he's a really athletically built guy, so they're very excited about getting their hands on him [pause... gulp... did I really just say that?] and designing for him."

I guess you guys are just going to have to get dressed for this occasion. It's what your president would do, and he's no George W. Bush. Besides, Michelle would smack him and not speak to him for a week if he pulled on a pair of jeans and a Stave Jobs t. And that older black woman who was a little miffed when we said that our ball tickets wouldn't be free and replied, "I certainly expect that it will, and I intend to pay for an occasion for this Occasion"? She'd be knock him right upside the head, right alongside Michelle.

By the way, I hear the Texans at the Texas State Ball over at the Gaylord on the 20th are planning to wear their boots and Wranglers to Texas Two-step.

No Texas nouveau riche black tie over there.

Oh, and George W. Bush? He's from Greenwich, Connecticut. But you knew that, right?

....

The garden side goes yellow

(finally)

Today Joaquim himself came with Georges. I asked where José was, and he said, "When you said that he did such wonderful work, I had to come and do some of it myself!"

"I knew it!"

"But I never should have told you that, now you know something about me --" He laughed.

"As if I didn't know that already. I saw," I looked at Georges and he nodded, "how you took it when I complimented José's work. You're supposed to be proud of what they do, not jealous! Prideful. Just prideful!"

He was delighted with himself for today's work. The yellow has always been sort of the pride of the affair, no matter how critical the brown is.

"I have one regret," another one regret, "you know what it is? It's the brown. You were right. It's much better very dark."

"You see? I wanted it almost black. You need the contrast, but it scared everyone. We'll get it with the stain."

Yup. We'll get it with the stain.

....

Elegance is as Baccarat does

Dogs, renovations and inaugural balls. A life.

Baccarat

November 2, 2008

This is how my dog looks at me. Waiting. At my disposition. Ready. Whenever I am.

"Posing, did I hear you ask? No," she chuckled, "that's Bacs for you. She always lies that way when observing me. I got lucky with the camera this time."

It happened to be in my hand, and turned on, which it always should be. I don't know why we don't have built-in cameras, actually.

"What's that, you say? We practically do? Oh, like our cell phones and PDAs and everything else that takes pictures. Gotcha'."

Gotcha'. Almost makes me miss Sarah Palin.

You Betcha'.

Wink!

....

There's a renovation goin' on 'round here

(remember?)

There was a week when I nearly forgot.

Georges and José were called away to do a small job to pick up some additional income. This was part of the understanding, that since ours is a big job they would do some smaller jobs here and there to pick up additional revenue, but so was a finish date of mid-November for the exterior of the house. I'll let you judge for yourself if it looks done.

The entry courtyard masonry work counts, too.

Hm... nope. Not in my opinion.

Well, we gave up on mid-November by the end of October, and Audouin was able to digest that better after our dinner with Joaquim, back when he nearly walked off the job when we said we thought the ochre was a bit greenish, and certainly not like the approved sample.

Well, in our defense, it wasn't.

In his defense, we were comparing it to the wrong sample.

It turned out that he had completely covered the right sample the day he mixed what we thought was the wrong one that I hoped was the right one, which it turned out that it was.

Are you following?

He proved it by chipping off the wrong sample, and there it was, the right sample. Let me not tell you how aggrieved he was. Let me not tell you how aggravated I was that he had covered it with a wrong one.

Joaquim and Audouin really needed to meet and talk face-to-face anyway so that Audouin could understand why I had Joaquim doing this job, and why it is sometimes best to put up with slow progress rather than a bad job done fast, or, a fast job done badly, and so that we could get to the bottom of the color issue and find that we all had egg on our faces.

And remember, next time you're in a bind with two men, steak and apple pie with cinnamon (I scored big points there. See? I told you, Texas.) help every time.

....

And, there's maybe still going to be a ball, too.

We continue to struggle to get enough funding together to get the ticket prices where we feel they need to be, and some are losing heart. It's understandable. Early on, things went so fast that it felt like God was on our side, and not Sarah Palin's. We thought that Barack's democratic ascension to the presidency was proof enough of that (Just kiddin' ya'. Gosh, can't ya' take a little joke anymore?), and then the ball seemed to be manifest destiny, too.

Then, one major sponsor turned out to be -- um -- how can I put this politely? -- not serious?

Then, another decided to perhaps leave his money with the PIC for greater -- um -- effect?

Then, we had to lose the Reagan Center because -- um -- that's life?

Then, just when all seemed bleakest, word came that another sponsor was actually still considering underwriting our grassroots ball for the volunteers, a beverage company asked if we were still looking for sponsors (ya-ah), and a won-der-ful group in Northern California, whose mission is "to protect that area's wild and rural places and to support the peoples who are part of these native landscapes through volunteer-driven environmental and cultural education, land use advocacy and career development" said they would like to sponsor the ball and attend.

If this sponsorship comes through with enough to help bring our ticket prices down, or with support from some of the others still possible, it will be a dream come true on so many levels -- financial, philosophical, political, organizational, you name it. This is why we voted the Republicans out of Dodge, although I know that Barack wouldn't like my partisan tone (I am pretty much unrepentent), and even though I have met some through the Obama campaign who have given me Hope that Barack might not be nuts when he asks us to try and get along.

Still, I am a litte tiny bit worried that maybe there is something wrong with him if Republicans can support him. Not that there's anything wrong with Repubicans per se. I am just a progressive. Nothing much to do with that No-man's-land "centrist" stuff that basically means "I can find something to agree with everyone about".

Oh, I know that is the stuff of governance and plain old getting along and getting on, but there have to be some values worth defending to the tooth (and I think that Rahm was really pretty awful with George Lakoff. Really.). I keep hoping that these Obama Republicans are just as sick of being stuck and having unpardonably pitiful and impitoyable leadership in the White House, of being publically embarrassed in front of the entire world, although I don't know how much they agree with me that private insurance is not the way to finance health care for everyone and maintain price controls. Government has a role and a responsibility for the public's welfare. Really.

Anyway, if we got their sponsorship, it just might mean that the Maker did mean for us to have a ball. Note the Deist tone.

But, then there is the Peace Ball on January 20 at the Old Post Office, being sponsored by Democracy Now! I had heard about it some time back, but I didn't recognize the name associated with it. Some man. I heard they had $25 tickets, and I was so impressed that I wanted to give up and go have a good cry.

We'd never get to $25 tickets, short of a miracle, on which the world seems pretty short these days. Still, we were close enough to the beginning of our efforts to imagine that fund-raising could go wildly well-enough... nope. Well, they didn't either. They went for $165.

Now the 2009 Inaugural Peace Ball is selling last tickets for $1,000 and has an impressive list of confirmed speakers, as today's email from Amy Goodman (I got a blog reaction for that one) says:

You will be united with hundreds of friends who believe in,
support and work tirelessly for peace, social justice -- and independent media. Confirmed speakers include Alice Walker, Amy Goodman, Eve Ensler, Barbara Ehrenreich, Howard Zinn, Dick Gregory, Laura Flanders, and with performances by Jackson Browne, Michael Franti, Bernice Johnson Reagon, Toshi Reagon, Fertile Ground, Kate Clinton, and Holly Near.

And do you know who Kate Clinton is? My high school English teacher from junior year.

Not only do I need to walk with Thich Nhat Hanh, who -- according to one of our most wonderful helpers and supporters -- will be walking through the poorer sections of Washington with Ogegeko Ottoman of the Center for the Advancement for Nonviolence (see my earlier blog post about my feelings about the impact of this inauguration on a city strained economically already), but I positively need to see Kate Clinton.

Funny I never thought to Google her.

Kate Clinton is a self-described "fumerist," or feminist humorist, who has set out to prove that being lesbian can be, and often is, funny. She was raised in a large Catholic family. In young adulthood she was a "pre-Michael J. Fox conservative" who attended Le Moyne College,^[1] a small Jesuit liberal arts college, and went on to teach high school English and coach.

In addition to comedy appearances and one-woman-shows such as Correct Me If I'm Right, All Het Up and Kate's Out Is In, she has written two books, Don't Get Me Started and What the L. She has written monthly columns for The Progressive and The Advocate.

She has made numerous appearances on television, and has served as grand marshal of gay pride parades. Clinton has produced several comedy albums, which was performed successfully in an off-Broadway production, published a book entitled Don't Get Me Started, and is working on a second book. When the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan began, she was a part-time commentator on CNN.^[2]

Kate Clinton lives in New York City & Provincetown with her partner, Urvashi Vaid. Her 2006 tour marks her 25th anniversary as a professional stand-up comedian.

Clinton performed on Cyndi Lauper's True Colors Tour 2008.

Note the reference to teaching high school English. Yeah.

We were "Ms. Clinton's" last class at Jamesville-DeWitt High School in 1978. She was amazing. She was hysterical. She was awesome, although we didn't say that yet. When class got too noisy, Ms. Clinton stood up on her desk in the front of the room and delivered her lecture every other word. Yup.

Once, we heard a knock on the window. Heads turned to see who was out there.

Ms. Clinton.

Yup. We'd gotten a little noisy and hadn't noticed she had headed out the door, around the corner and out through the main entrance to get out attention. It worked.

One day at the end of the year, Ms. Clinton announced that she was taking a year to drive across country to Alaska in a beat up VW bus to write. She ended up one of the West Village's leading comedians, who happens to be gay and headlines the gay pride headlines. My brother nearly fell over backwards when I said, "Really? Kate Clinton is performing? But, that's my high school English teacher."

Ms. Landfear was another one, and wonderful, too.

Hi, Ms, Landfear!

God, I might have to go to DC now, even if I can't make this Ball work. I also can't possibly pay $1,000 even to find Kate Clinton after all these years.

Hi, Ms. Clinton, it's me! I.



Ah, Kate. Good to hear you again, and you look marvellous! Sounds just like junior year English class, except that the topic then was literature.

I need another miracle now, after the other one that hasn't happened yet.

....

Huge

huge [hyooj or, often, yooj]
–adjective, hug⋅er, hug⋅est.

1. extraordinarily large in bulk, quantity, or extent: a huge ship; a huge portion of ice cream.
2. of unbounded extent, scope, or character; limitless: the huge genius of Mozart.

Origin:
1225–75; ME huge, hoge

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1)
Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2006.

That's the word I am contemplating today. Huge.

As in huge numbers of people, paying huge amounts of money, descending on Washington, DC to cost that suffering city and its citizens huge demands on its limited resources, or as someone who has been working with us on our idea for a grassroots ball said,

"I think all the fuss is a huge waste of money that could be put to much better use than agents and hotels taking their huge cuts off the festivities, (just like [I] felt the huge sums of campaign cash could have gone to people, programs that needed it instead of the networks and media)

I wish obama would make this part of the change..........NO parties, no BALLS, just say I do and be in the office on the 20th and sign some of those really important executive orders.

It's totally out of hand and even obscene."

I am as guilty as anyone for thinking, "Obama is going to be inaugurated! Let's have a ball to recognize the effort of so many volunteers who helped get him into office, and have a chance to actually, finally meet one another. Let's make this a different sort of ball, By the Volunteers, For the Volunteers!"

But the farther you go with it, the more it looks like more of the same. At least if you are planning it in Washington, DC.

As I wrote in our fundraising solitication letter, the day after the election, Frank Greve of McClatchy newspapers wrote:

"Washington- A powerful new lobbying force is coming to town: Barack Obama's triumphant army of 3.1 million Internet-linked donors and volunteers."

And, I continued, "Our first 'official' appearance in Washington will be at our very own inaugural ball." It still sounds good, but the picture evolves and with it, our point of view.

We started out wanting to send a message to Washington, and we end up doing it the way Washington does it, becoming part of the problem descending on that city that is not just a name, "Washington", for our federal government, but a real city -- like New York, Flint, Cleveland, and Houston -- that happens to be the host to that government, a city like all those others, with its own problems and burdens to bear.

And here we come, all 3.6 million and more of us to see Barack Obama inaugurated 44th President of the United States of America!

Why? Why can we not watch this from our television sets at home? Is it because he was elected by a wave of social and political organization that mobilized unprecendented numbers to work actively for his campaign as volunteers on the "grassroots" level? Or, is it because he is America's first black president?

Perhaps it is for both reasons.

I have mixed feelings as I think about that. It's complicated if you look at it from the cultural frame of anywhere outside the United States, where it is said that race shouldn't matter and that to see Barack Obama as a black man takes away from the man he is.

It's also complicated because in the 1896 Supreme Court ruling Plessy v. Ferguson, the court upheld a Jim Crow interpretation of segregation law that said that if you were even 1/8 black, like Homer Plessy, you were black and not allowed to sit in the "whites only" section of the train. This decision rightly upset whites and blacks concerned with social justice and equality until the last Jim Crow laws fell with the passing of the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

When Barack and I were in college, there was question about which blacks were "black enough" not to be called "Oreos" for "passing". The bi-racial students didn't have it easy. They weren't black, and they weren't white. Inter-racial couples had it tough, too. A lot of black women didn't take kindly to the black men who made it to college dating white women. It was understandable.

I believed that Barack was able to make the speech on race in Philadelphia he did because of the work he had to do to understand and integrate his own identity, but I was concerned every time I heard him called the man who just might be "our first black president," and, now, "America's first African-American president".

What if his mother were still living? Would he have been called bi-racial, or black? What about his grandparents in Hawaii? Did they see him that way, or as a reflection of his black father and his white mother -- their daughter -- and, finally, because they loved the boy he was, grown to be the man he is, simply as the person who is Barack?

Which takes us back to the point of view that says "race shouldn't matter." It doesn't when you know and love an individual. But, individuals are not groups, nor are they society with its human history.

Maybe all that stuff back in college was just noise. The noise of frustration and anger and continuing social injustice, but it made life hard for those subject to it.

Maybe today it will be gone, along with the pain of identity and how a person is seen and understood by society, and the groups that make up that society.

America sits on a crest, having climbed high, while at one of her lowest moments, and we have chosen to trust her steerage to President-elect Barack Obama for his judgement, his intelligence, his clarity of vision and his ability (yes, it is true) to speak in full and coherent sentences. At this moment, our economy has been declared in recession, and the Presidential Suite at the Ritz-Carlton in Washington, DC went for $20,000 a night for a 5-night minimum during the inauguration. The other rooms? A far more affordable $2,000 a night for a 5-night minimum, and every last one is taken. Every restaurant table is booked. Money will be spent as though there is no financial crisis, while more and more Americans will be without work and income to support their families and small businesses will close, and our leaders and economists debate how best to guide us out of economic trouble and toward solutions that will make the foundation of life sounder for all Americans.

If at moments past, during difficult times, presidents have removed themselves to the silence of their offices and the solitude of their own conscience, away from the distractions and the demands upon them, to arrive at a decision that required courage, the form that the occasion of this president's inauguration should take might just be such a moment -- and an opportunity -- for Barack Obama to make a significant gesture.

Perhaps the very best way to underscore the change that has come to Washington and to our nation in a difficult hour is to break with tradition and change the way this president assumes his office and his duties.

As an American living in France, I was struck last year by the austerity of the moment when one president, Jacques Chirac, left office, and the next, Nicholas Sarkozy, assumed it. President Chirac awaited President Sarkozy at the top of the steps at the entry to the Elysée palace, as Sarkozy entered the gate and crossed the courtyard on the length of red carpet leading to the door. The two presidents met, shook hands, and President Chirac walked down the steps, while President Sarkozy walked to his office, ready to begin to do his nation's business.

Perhaps this is the time to save everyone the indecent cost of inaugural celebrations -- and the task of raising the money to pay for them --, the nightmare of protecting the president, and the stress of a city and its inhabitants, many of whom count among those whose needs are greatest.

Our new president could do that and mark this great moment of Hope in the fierceness of simplicity.
....

But what I'm really thankful for this week is

Thanksgiving itself completely absorbing the attention of Americans and leaving me two days to think of other things, like vacuuming, and our renovations instead of the Grassroots Ball all the time!

Not that I am not grateful that the ball is succeeding enough to require that time, but. You know what I mean.

The gable end

Some of you might remember that things got very, very tense with the contractor, Joaquim. That was not nice at all.

It all started in the day or so after the chaux -- call it "natural stucco", if you like -- went up on the street side. Ball business was pressing and immediate, the emails coming in like enemy fire, and the phone ringing, and I was still adjusting to working American hours while living in the muddy French countryside, and Joaquim was being more demanding than a hyperactive 2-year-old.

"Jacqueline! Jac-que-line [imagine, my first name in 3 syllables]! Viens vite. Viens!"

(I remind you that there is a translation tool to the right. You can put whole sentences in to find out what on earth I'm saying.)

"J'arrive, Joaquim. Attendez une seconde; je suis en ligne." That I was on the telephone made absolutely no difference whatsoever to him. I should hang up instantly. The second he calls my name, "Jacqueline!"

"Viens voir, viens voir!" It makes a mother feel like saying, "That's won-der-ful, darling! What a beau-ti-ful picture you have made. Shall we hang it on the refrigerator together?" Instead, I apologized into the telephone and tried to keep breathing normally to keep my heart from taking off.

One.

Two.

Thr--

"Jacqueline!"

"I'm sorry, I'm really going to have to go. My contractor is calling, and I have to go -- Yes, yes -- absolutely -- okay, bye!"

"Jacqueline! Tu viens ou quoi?" Yes, I am coming. I am really coming, right.this.very.instant.

If his heart rate was normal, I don't know how. He held up a plastic jar of yellow pigment. I caught the lid, "Jaune de chrome". Chrome yellow.

"Tu n'auras pas un bouchon de bouteille, non? N'importe quel bouchon de bouteille. J'ai changé de pigment. Celui-ci est beaucoup plus concentré alors il en faut beaucoup moins mais il faut le doser." I handed him a Coke bottle cap I happened to have.

"Will this work?"

"Parfait, parfait." He headed back out to the mixer. But not for long. I was hardly back at work on the ball, when I heard my name again, in urgent tones. This time, he wanted to show me the chaux he had just mixed. I followed him and the dollop on the trowel to the wall, where the sample we had selected had waited these three weeks or more.

"C'est pareil, non? C'est la même chose." I looked closer. It looked about the same, but like Joaquim himself never ceases to tell me, it changes over time. The chaux on the wall had been there at least three weeks, the liquid in it being drawn into the brick behind, and the acid in the lime working on the pigment.

"Ca a l'aire d'être ça," I said. Hoping it was, but Joaquim had spent entire days telling me how serious he is about his work, and I believe him. He's nothing if not serious about his work, and seriously needy to hear that he does it well. Let me not, however, appear to knock it. He is good at his work.

He is also a really good mixer of color. I told him what I wanted for the paint for the windows, showing him the flowers whose petals should serve as the color to add to a chocolate brown, and he came back with exactly the color I wanted. Try that yourself.

I went back to work, and he retured to Georges, José and the mixer. By a couple hours later, I heard my name again. It was time to go see the ochre chaux in place. It looked good.

"Jacqueline, tu as ton appareil de photo? Il faut que tu prennes des photos. Il faut que tu prennes des photos de José en traine travailler. Tu l'as, ton appareil de photo?" There wasn't a single pause for breathe in there. Not one. Don't be fooled by my punctuation.

"Of course I have my camera." I started taking pictures.

"Mais il faut que tu en prennes de José, en traine de travailler, de plus près, là, comme ça. Non, mais, non. Plus près -- mais, qu'est-ce que tu fais là? D'ici --"

"Joaquim, je t'assure, je l'ai. Je suis en traine de prendre les photos que tu veux, comme toujours." I am the one who started taking the pictures, telling him that he really should document his work. That day, I became the official documenter of his work. The next time, he came with his own camera, but that was mostly because he was very, very angry with me because over the weekend, we had decided that the color was too greeny-yellow, too mustard.

Joaquim had quit the job by Sunday afternoon.

By Monday evening, he was discussing the history of the Euopean Union with Sam and women, fidelity and libido (don't forget, my husband is a gynecologist, so this is all very professional and normal around here) over dinner. While preparing my apple tart during drinks, he saw me start to sprinkle something on the apples.

"C'est quoi ça," he demanded.

"Cinnamon."

"Ah, c'est bon! Tu as déjà gagné des points!" He wanted good food, his ex-wife wanted more attention and more attentive sex, I am guessing.

(It's okay, I have checked my demographics. You're all old enough to read that.)

I'll save you all the discussion about the color. In the end, it did change a bit on the wall, he promised to work it with a bit of a siena wash if it still needed it, and we're all okay now. The brown for the motifs is drying out too light, so we're going to darken it with a stain. I went lighter for Audouin, and I still want it darker. Like it is when it's wet. That's easy to do.

Work now has moved to the garden side. The scratch coat is up, the holes are being prepared for the brackets for the balcony, which will be delivered Monday, and the wood strips to make the forms for the half-timber motifs are on their way.

It's getting colder for Georges and José, but they're not complaining much. After all, we were the ones who wanted to get this show on the road earlier this fall. Snow fell Sunday morning, but this is nearly the Norman countryside. It's mild here, even in the winter. The cold never lasts very long when it gets its coldest.
....

May I interest anyone in a

nice game of Bubble Shooter while I plan the ball instead of writing?



Here, it's easier to win online.

My laptop is broken (Damn you, Dell, damn you!), so I can't even update the photos of the work on the house. I'd have to bother getting it all set up on the old desktop (nice old desktop, nice desktop, there, there).

The speakers are even broken.

And I have nothing whatsoever to wear.

Oh, so much to say.
....

Drum roll, please!

We have an announcement!

The Grassroots Inaugural Ball 2009 Organizing Committee has selected a site for our very own, first-ever grassroots inaugural celebration in Washington, DC, by the People of MYBO, for the People of MYBO.

And all their friends from the Obama campaign offices all across the country.

Hold the date, January 19, 2009.

Details to follow, once it has all sunk in.

We'll talk about the contractor drama when I can peel my self away from urgent ball business.
....

Can someone tell me what he said?

The President-elect's first weekly address.

my speakers stopped working

I think the election tired them out.

And Dell still hasn't set the appointment to come repair my laptop. Don't get me started.

And they tried to steal the BMW station wagon from out in front of the house Friday morning.

And the color is wrong for the chaux (natural stucco) on the house, and we are possibly going to lose the contractor over it. (I'm almost relieved, if he just gets the stucco done). More later.

And I can't read lips.

But, the ball planning is flying along, the sponsorship support from the members of the MYBO committee to raise the down-payment on the venue and help lower ticket prices is strong (Obama supporters are a wonder and a half), and we might actually start getting more than 3 1/2 hours of sleep a night, my organizing partners and I.

A plus tout le monde.
....

Dinner is not optional

"Mom, dinner is not optional."

I looked at the hour in the corner of the task bar on the screen, glowing in a room that had been dark for hours. Husband on duty at the hospital, no one to reprimand me for ignoring my motherly duties. Or so I thought. There was my son to remind me.

"Right now, Sam, right now. I promise. What do you want? Chinese? Can you get me the menu?" He sighed, aggrieved.

"Mom? dinner?" I looked again at the time. A half hour had passed.

"Sam? Did you bring me the menu?"

"It's right next to you."

Oh.

They are starting to know us at the Mandarin Chinese in Bonnières. As it was, they weren't doing steamed food anymore.

"Mom? Isn't it time to leave to get the food?" Oh god. Another half hour had past, emailing and IMing at breakneck speed, planning for our Grassroots Inaugural Ball 2009. A ball of our very own for Obama's Internet Army soldiers.

"Yeah, right -- yeah, right now. You come with me." I couldn't face going in. I haven't changed clothes since Sunday.

"Mom, are they closed?" He sounded really aggravated this time.

"Ah -- no. No. Of course not --" They looked really closed. The owner's wife stuck her head out the door of the darkened restaurant, and I pulled a hard right into a parking space near the door, barely breaking. I glanced at the orange digital numbers glowing in the dark. 23:08.

"Mom. They are closed." I have never heard him sound so -- firm.

"Go ahead, go on -- tell them how sorry I am, anything, just apologize. A lot."

"No," he muttered, hauling himself out of the car. I got it. I really did. He felt like I should come in and apologize to the three of them. The owner, his wife, and him. But this was important. This is about history. It isn't happening again.

We didn't get a free treat last night like we usually do. Last time it was a bottle of Tsing Tao.
....

A Grassroots Inaugural "Ball" of our own

Joel Pett's Cartoon
http://www.kentucky.com/947/image_media/580639.html

I had an idea.

It turned out I wasn't alone.

We needed an inaugural party for Obama's "Internet Army". All of us who made profiles on MYBO (Mybarackobama.com), raised money for the campaign on our fundraising pages, blogged, worked the phone banks and made calls from home, posted to the groups -- like Writers for Obama, Environmentalists for Obama, Barack Fans in the Colbert Nation, Harvard for Obama, Columbia University Alumni for Obama, SiCKO Universal Health Care HR 676, 10th Congressional District of Illinois for Obama, and on and on -- knocked on doors, hosted events, wrote letters to the editor of our local papers, forwarded articles, Dugg others still, traveled to battleground state to campaign, volunteered to Protect the Vote, and worked to register voters and GOTV.

Over the months, bonds were formed. Some of us made a "fambly" and adopted one another. Sometimes we argued. Tensions ran high as the last days of the campaign approached. We laughed, and we cried. And, we did both through the Sarah Palin days.

You betcha' we did.

Wink! (Excuse me. It's become a tic).

In the end, the press credited us with being an army of 3.1 million volunteers, ready for any mission the Obama campaign, and, now, the Obama administration can think up for us. Get him elected?

No problem.

Get that needed support for legislation in our congressional districts?

You need but ask, and it is yours.

In a matter of a few short hours, we have three organizing committees -- in Cambridge, MA, NYC, and Washington, DC -- coordinating with two of us, Columbia University grads who never imagined back in 1986 that destiny would bring us back together again to put on the party of our lifetimes.

I am keeping a little mum on the details for now, except that it will very possibly be in the social hall of a Capitol Hill church that can handle several hundred people. We want to make this a party by The People, for The People, particularly those who worked for the campaign in any fashion, on MYBO or through a local office. We want to keep it in the spirit of the campaign -- the spirit of community and Obama's roots as a community organizer.

The Obama Gospel Glee Club (500 people have volunteered from as far away as Alaska to sing with it) of Charlottesville, VA has asked to come and sing. We are starting small for music -- everyone's iPods, and working up to some big names for entertainment. We are working to get support from any soul that might still be answering phones for the Obama campaign to see if there are a few spare dollars in that war chest to offset ticket costs and officially make our "ball" a MYBO campaign ball. And, if we are very, very good, we hope to get ourselves on Michelle and Barack's and Jill and Joe's inaugural ball itinerary.

After all, we're the ones that helped get them into office, and we're the ones we've been waiting for!

Pass the word. If you want to come, just leave me a comment with your contact information, and I'll add you to the emailing list.
....