Pep talk for America

Most of us don’t know what to trust these days. We’re living in a time when Snopes – after 30-some years now the definitive online reference source for researching urban legends, folklore, myths, rumors and misinformation, once known as “fact-checking” – lights the way. Their crack investigative team must validate whether a sitting president dozed off in the Oval Office during a coal industry event and woke himself up by passing gas, as a video allegedly shows. (According to Snopes, the alleged flatulence didn’t occur.) I am not making this up. And I refuse to write another word about it, except to say I suspect it didn’t pass the smell test. LOL. Instead, we will focus on youth and a different type of lightness of being. One of our bonus great-nieces turned 19 years old today. She’s the smart Irish college girl who kicked my sorry butt in tennis a few years back. I believe she was 13. Bless her heart. Anyhow, all I have left to say about that is happy birthday, Erin, and oh, what I wouldn’t give to be 19 again. Knowing what I know now, of course. The subject came up over this morning’s coffee talk with my beloved partner.

Me: “Oh, to be 19 again. Your whole life ahead of you. Nothing but blue skies and unicorns. Now, more of your life is behind you than in front of you. My life. Me. Our life. Us. Oy.”

Her: “Yeah. It makes me sick.”

And there you have it. The concise summation of a woman’s seven glorious decades on this planet and a prelude to what remains. She doesn’t mince words, does she?

Rebecca once uttered this foreboding phrase after a particularly stressful day for a retiree: “I’m just trying to decompose right now.”

We’ll let that can of worms simmer on the back burner for a future blog post. 

Frankly, I wish every day was like Thursday. As in yesterday. Such a profoundly positive moment for both of us. A good day that brought hope. Inspiration. Emotion.

Why, you may wonder?

Because America finally remembered who we are. 

My heart soared as we stood in the kitchen and swayed to beautiful music coming from a 32-inch, mildly Smart TV. Stevie, Bruce, Christina, JHud, Legend, Bono and Common, among others. A star-studded roster of performers. (No Vanilla Ice, thank you very much.)

It was a little after noon. Workers were bustling in and out of our house doing their thing, so I had turned on MS Now, formerly MSNBC, to see what fresh hell awaited us.

To my surprise, there wasn’t any. Fresh hell, that is. Only the positivity of potential greatness.

There it was: a dedication ceremony for the Obama Presidential Center under way in Chicago.

Thousands of invited guests, including former presidents and heads of state, gathered on a lakefront park for the grand opening of a sprawling campus of granite, nature and art designed as a hub of civic life and culture. All to honor the 44th president of the United States, Barack Obama.

Now 64, he’s aged since the first (and only) time I met him 18 years ago on June 16, 2008, during his presidential campaign for a UAW event at Kettering University in Flint, Michigan. His presence was captivating, and yes, those ears were larger than life.

The junior senator from Illinois had “it,” whatever that meant, along with a healthy dose of humility. Planning for a Solidarity magazine cover story photo-op, I had scribbled “Mr. President” on a page out of my reporter’s notebook and placed it on the floor to mark his spot.

“I like the sound of that,” he said with that now-familiar grin. Then he autographed it. I have it framed with some photos in my office.

At Thursday’s dedication, Michelle Obama, his wife, warned him in advance she had planned to “fully sing his praises.” She spoke of her husband informing her early on in their relationship that he couldn’t promise her the world, but he could promise her an interesting life. Check and check.

After “eight years in the crucible” of the White House, she said, “and not once did you melt from the heat, and not once did you let it harden you. Instead, you used it to reveal your truest essence. Your stubborn optimism and unflinching courage. Your dazzling brilliance and unpretentious decency. Your ferocious work ethic and your absolutely unshakeable moral fiber.”

That was her husband, our president from 2009-2017. Always focused, always calm, always looking at the long view.

She spoke about democracy, humanity and equality. How it was an honor to be by his side. That’s when her spouse of 34 years wiped away a tear.

Anything is possible, I thought, which hadn’t occurred to me for quite some time.

Look what we did back then. Look what we did.

The $850 million center is more than a historic nod to Obama, breaking from the traditional presidential library model. His presidential archives are stored digitally, so the South Side of Chicago campus serves as a museum, civic space and community gathering place.

The 225-foot edifice towers over 19 acres complete with walking trails, a playground and the John Lewis Plaza, where the dedication took place. There’s even an NBA-sized basketball court.

“For me, this center could not be anywhere else,” Barack Obama said in his keynote address.

But to him, this wasn’t about nostalgia or to glorify himself. No, sir. It wasn’t about the Obamas. It was about us. To remind us of who we can be. A literal pep talk to America.

Here’s what those 458 custom-built, 5-foot-tall letters carved into the building’s facade say:

“You are America. Unconstrained by habit and convention. Unemcumbered by what is, ready to seize what ought to be. For everywhere in this country, there are first steps to be taken, there is new ground to cover, there are more bridges to be crossed. America is not the project of any one person. The single most powerful word in our democracy is the word ‘We.’ ‘We The People.’ ‘We Shall Overcome.’ Yes We Can.’ That word is owned by no one. It belongs to everyone. Oh, what a glorious task we are given to continually try to improve this great nation of ours.” ~ President Obama in his 2015 speech marking the 50th anniversary of the Selma to Montgomery marches.

That sentimentbcaptures the beauty of who we all are. The light. The love. The hope.

The beating heart of America. A lasting, unbreakable democracy well beyond our 250 years as a nation.

Both speeches focused on the power of choice. Honesty. Integrity. Kindness. Compassion. A sense of duty and honor. Decency.

Yes, we can, I thought. Yes, we did.

Some of the center’s exhibits reflect what the former president calls “unfinished business.” His own shortcomings and mistakes. (Yes, you read that correctly.)

“Hard things are hard,” he said of a sonnet he had kept on the resolute desk in the Oval Office.

Hard? No kidding.

Take Juneteenth — also today, June 19th — which celebrates the fight for freedom and marks 161 years since the day the last group of enslaved people found out they had been freed in Galveston, Texas. The proclamation came more than two years after President Abraham Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863.

Folks got the message late, but they were free. Same with Juneteenth becoming a federal holiday, which happened in 2021.

Hard things are hard.

So, guess who wasn’t in attendance Thursday? All living former U.S. presidents except one. You-know-who wasn’t invited. And his name was never spoken once.

Michelle Obama managed to throw some shade on the current White House Occupant, mentioning that her husband had won a Nobel Peace Prize, an honor that has eluded you-know-who. Ouch.

Witty yet swift, sort of like saying, “Your outfit is certainly … interesting. Brave choice, really.”

Leroy Brown may still be the “baddest” man in the whole damn town, but Chicago’s South Side never looked so good.

(YouTube audio with still photos: Published in 1922 by Fred Fisher, this familiar song has been recorded by many artists, including Judy Garland and Frank Sinatra. Ol’ Blue Eyes’ definitive version of “Chicago (That Toddlin’ Town)” was released in 1957 as the B-side to his hit song “All the Way.” Arranged by Nelson Riddle, it became a staple of Sinatra’s live shows. Fans often confuse this track with Frankie’s other famous Chicago anthem, “My Kind of Town (Chicago Is),” written by Sammy Cahn and Jimmy Van Heusen for the 1964 Rat Pack movie “Robin and the Seven Hoods.”)