Notes From O-Town

Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I've got some good stuff in the hopper, I promise. It's just been a tad hectic here in Pressland lately, but things are smoothing out now. So here is the first draft of last week's cover story. I tried to avoid writing a first person story originally, or at least not have it be so much about my time at the inauguration and more about the meaning of the day itself. But when the bosses wanted a re-write, I gave them what they wanted. I still like this version though...

On the outside looking in, it is not hard to see how some cynics may think that Inauguration Day appeared shallow and cheap, with the all the merchandising for sale and the circus-like atmosphere. I haven't come across anyone that pessimistic yet, although I'm sure they're out there. But there is still a need to clarify Tuesday's significance for those who could not make the trip to Washington D.C. to take part.

For starters, even President Barack Obama is tired of people trying to pile more symbolism onto an event that is already plenty emblematic of American ideals. Sometimes a hot dog is just a hot dog, as he reminded a journalist who asked what the significance was of his eating a chilidog upon arrival in the nation's capitol. Ever the cynic myself, I, too, needed a view beyond the camera's gaze to get to the heart of it, because some things you just have to see for yourself.

So I made the trip to D.C., to see the swearing in and all its surrounding mayhem, to be part of a true once-in-a-lifetime event, a part of history.

And this thing was nothing short of a pilgrimage. Some may reject the religious connotation of that word's application to anything to do with a man who has not been canonized, but is painted, both literally and figuratively, as a saint. That is not what I am implying here, as not all pilgrimages have to do with religion—although these people I joined on this bitterly cold Tuesday in January surely were full of faith. It was the sight of thousands of people pouring into the streets, filling them to capacity at 5 a.m., hoping to get the best view, despite below-freezing temperatures. Usually such scenes result from something catastrophic, and the people aren't as giddy.

So eager were we patriots to witness history in the making that even when arriving at the Mall seven hours prior to the swearing-in ceremony, it was just an hour away from the police closing out our section. Crowd estimates of two million may never do the turnout justice, as those who arrived later in the morning to watch the event on Jumbotrons from two miles away at the Lincoln Memorial reported spillover that packed the side streets, even that far away.

In short, it was like nothing anyone has ever seen. It paled in comparison to Obama's "We Are One" speech and concert at the Lincoln Memorial the previous Sunday, or even to the mass gathered at Woodstock for that matter.

But it was more than just a huge gathering of Obama supporters. There were hugs shared by black Southerners who made the trip, who had never expected to see an African-American become president in their lifetime. They were joined by high school kids learning the greatest civics lesson of all, and by families bonding over the momentous and surreal communal experience. Some have even said that this event replaces the moon landing as far as greatest national achievements that folks will tell their grandkids about.

Don’t try defining it strictly through the lens of Democrat, Republican, black or white. This was a uniquely American occasion.

Imagine instead that you were an African immigrant in the U.S., a journalist by trade, barred from visiting your home because you report on the misdeeds of dictators who hold pseudo-democratic elections. And despite not being able to visit family and friends back home, you were so overjoyed with the mere integrity of our American process that you dressed in a suit, even though you were not attending an inaugural ball, instead dancing to a remix of Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech at a local pub.

That was the experience of Henok Fente, a 28-year-old Ethiopian who is now a radio reporter for Voice of America's English to Africa broadcast, which is the only independent, non-government run media in many parts of the continent. "To witness the exchange of power without an armed conflict from a ruler for eight years," Fente said, after toasting America, letting his point make itself. "It is one thing to read about, it is another thing to see an election be rigged in your country," he added with a wide grin, referring to the compromised electoral process in his homeland. This guy who's not even a US citizen applies the principles of our First Amendment in a continent dying for freedom. He may be the biggest patriot I've met, as we traipsed in the frigid air from one Inauguration event to another.

Sure, Obama's anecdote about his father’s inability to be served at a local restaurant 60 years ago, and the significance of that man’s son now being sworn in as president, speak volumes about this nation. But with that, we also are taking for granted the fact that we have free elections to begin with. Not that it's a bad thing that we only think about the concept of freedom as it’s portrayed in songs. But for Fente, freedom is about more than just lyrics. It is a good thing that we're so used to being able to freely elect our leaders that we don't have to worry about a coup or a blatant abuse of power in the voting booths.

And while we're taking our freedoms for granted, why should we not take a moment to celebrate the day the American way, by buying Obama souvenirs. Especially when it's as amusing as Obama action figures, mix tapes and the endless T-shirt variations. We should not be made to feel guilty for sometimes turning this into a circus. It is nice to hear so many people speaking glowingly of national politics for a change, even though we all know the glow will wear off as soon as we start dealing with the mess.

We in New York have a tendency to refer to the city as the "Capitol of the World" for its melting-pot history while we deride the crippling partisan nature of D.C. I say it's time to give that title back to D.C., let our leaders get to work and not forget the selfless promises to pitch in that we all made this week.

Not So Secret Anymore

Not to harp on the subject, but last week’s cover story had a few amusing reactions worth sharing.

There was the high school friend I haven’t spoken in years who texted me “of course you got detained, that beard screams terrorist!” There were the colleagues that I haven’t spoken to in months who reached out to share in the laugh. Then there was the guy who stapled a copy of the cover in a letter he wrote to ask how we pick our models, in which he included a few head shots and an offer of his modeling services.

That was a first. Our production department always has to hunt down models. They don’t ever come to us.

Meanwhile, seeing my face on the cover every time I walked into a store where we have a rack got old fast. Even co-workers and family members said it got a little freaky that my face was plastered everywhere they went. Now I know how those billboard ad models feel.

Of course, no story about the Secret Service would be complete without an influx of letters from more conspiracy theorists. The majority of the letters were from regular folks simply sharing stories similar to mine. But a few others were really out there. The most bizarre one was faxed to us, although in all fairness, after deciphering the main points as best as I could, it appears to have been faxed to every media outlet in the Western Hemisphere.

While I must leave out names for the sake of not getting sued, it claims that several U.S. Senators as well as current and past White House officials are actually Canadian ex-felons and one is allegedly a man in drag, according to the mostly hand-written 11-page list of rambling accusations. And all of them also happen to be from the same city: Calgary, Alberta. Needless to say, don’t expect that story to make it to print anytime soon.

That’s all for now. Happy Halloween and don’t forget to vote.

A Few Firsts

Welcome to the reincarnation of my blog. The original one bit the dust upon the re-launching of our website this week, but I had fell off on the consistency while gearing up for the change-over anyway. I let the old content dissolve into the cyber-space Never Neverland since I prefer to focus my energy on moving forward. So here's to a new venue and well, my first time using Blogger.

As for other firsts this week, perhaps you noticed my mug on the cover. Yep, that's really me with the hat. I think that's a first for all of us here. The author of a story has never posed for the cover picture for their own story before, at least not in the six-year-plus run of this paper.Not that this should be surprising for anyone, it's not really common practice at any publication.

But aside from my reluctantly warming to the idea, the story itself contains a few unprecedented snippets. It was the first time, at least in modern history so far as we were able to tell, that a presidential debate was held on Long Island. It was our first time covering the debates from the inside.

And yes, it was my first time being questioned by federal authorities, instead of the other way around. I'll be crossing my fingers that it's the last.

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