Inauguration Day
All in all, I was astonished to find myself four years later, on a train to Mommyland:
http://johnwesley73.livejournal.com/2009/01/20/
The biggest difference was that this time around I had to undergo this weird calculus: how much of the events do I miss while I'm traveling versus whatever sensory experience I could offer Mom. In the end, I compromised; I stayed home until shortly after the President's address (in fact, catching Beyonce's National Anthem) then headed for the train to Flushing.
In a spectacular feat of convergence, the first person I bumped into was Richard. He was sitting in a seat nearly in front of me as I boarded. He was dressed in jeans and a dark nylon jacket. I couldn't believe my good fortune; it was the closest I've been to him since we peed next to each other back in April http://johnwesley73.livejournal.com/401871.html
Richard carried a small back pack, but not one nearly as bulky as my "mommy-pack". I drank him in even as we anxiously compared notes about the inauguration. I noticed for the first time that his hair had flecks of gray that belied his otherwise boyish good looks; And, It turns out we were both on our way to visit our mothers. We'd each gotten up early in the morning with every sincere intention of making it out the door early enough to watch the swearing-in with our Moms, but likewise got stuck sitting in front of the television set until it was too late.
The conversation flowed so swiftly and so efforrtlessly that Richard decided to stay past his usual stop and ride with me all the way to where the train emerged from beneath the earth into the daylight at Queensboro Plaza. From there, we both took the #7 train; Richard had resolved accompany me for as much of the trip as possible and walk the rest of the way to his Mom's house. I got the impression that it was only a little out of his way. Nevertheless, I was flattered by the attention and had to struggle not to make too much of it, even after following his vanishing figure as Richard moved through the platform a few stops later at 90th Street.
Flushing is only a few stops down the road and even though my cell phone battery was about to run out, I could see that I was making pretty good time and estimated that the President and First Lady would probably still be partaking of the traditional inaugura luncheon in the Capitol's Statuary Hall.
And, I was right. Two buses later (I had to transfer from the bus that takes an alternate route further away from the nursing home) I found Mom in the t.v. room where the big plasma screen clearly showed a banquet scene still in progress.
I wheeled Mom back to her room and whipped out the pride of my mommy-pack: my laptop. I plugged it in and crossed my fingers. I would soon know whether after all this time, nearly three years into Mom's residence, whether the nursing home had a wireless network. It did. The object wasn't just to show off a shiny new gadget, but to exploit the laptop's superior speaker system.
I think it paid off. Mom was soon lifting her head and cocking her ear toward the laptop. She seemed especially responsive to the crowd noises when I clicked on the "raw footage" window. She definitely knew something of a civic nature was going on -- and judging from the amount of pandemonium as the president's lmousine made its way down Pennsylvania Avenue - it wasn't a state funeral. Bottom line: every moment was to be savored and needless to say, four years ago, celebrating Obama's second inaugural with my 94 year-old mother was probably the furthest thing from my mind.
http://johnwesley73.livejournal.com/2009/01/20/
The biggest difference was that this time around I had to undergo this weird calculus: how much of the events do I miss while I'm traveling versus whatever sensory experience I could offer Mom. In the end, I compromised; I stayed home until shortly after the President's address (in fact, catching Beyonce's National Anthem) then headed for the train to Flushing.
In a spectacular feat of convergence, the first person I bumped into was Richard. He was sitting in a seat nearly in front of me as I boarded. He was dressed in jeans and a dark nylon jacket. I couldn't believe my good fortune; it was the closest I've been to him since we peed next to each other back in April http://johnwesley73.livejournal.com/401871.html
Richard carried a small back pack, but not one nearly as bulky as my "mommy-pack". I drank him in even as we anxiously compared notes about the inauguration. I noticed for the first time that his hair had flecks of gray that belied his otherwise boyish good looks; And, It turns out we were both on our way to visit our mothers. We'd each gotten up early in the morning with every sincere intention of making it out the door early enough to watch the swearing-in with our Moms, but likewise got stuck sitting in front of the television set until it was too late.
The conversation flowed so swiftly and so efforrtlessly that Richard decided to stay past his usual stop and ride with me all the way to where the train emerged from beneath the earth into the daylight at Queensboro Plaza. From there, we both took the #7 train; Richard had resolved accompany me for as much of the trip as possible and walk the rest of the way to his Mom's house. I got the impression that it was only a little out of his way. Nevertheless, I was flattered by the attention and had to struggle not to make too much of it, even after following his vanishing figure as Richard moved through the platform a few stops later at 90th Street.
Flushing is only a few stops down the road and even though my cell phone battery was about to run out, I could see that I was making pretty good time and estimated that the President and First Lady would probably still be partaking of the traditional inaugura luncheon in the Capitol's Statuary Hall.
And, I was right. Two buses later (I had to transfer from the bus that takes an alternate route further away from the nursing home) I found Mom in the t.v. room where the big plasma screen clearly showed a banquet scene still in progress.
I wheeled Mom back to her room and whipped out the pride of my mommy-pack: my laptop. I plugged it in and crossed my fingers. I would soon know whether after all this time, nearly three years into Mom's residence, whether the nursing home had a wireless network. It did. The object wasn't just to show off a shiny new gadget, but to exploit the laptop's superior speaker system.
I think it paid off. Mom was soon lifting her head and cocking her ear toward the laptop. She seemed especially responsive to the crowd noises when I clicked on the "raw footage" window. She definitely knew something of a civic nature was going on -- and judging from the amount of pandemonium as the president's lmousine made its way down Pennsylvania Avenue - it wasn't a state funeral. Bottom line: every moment was to be savored and needless to say, four years ago, celebrating Obama's second inaugural with my 94 year-old mother was probably the furthest thing from my mind.