Okay, it's become very clear to me, and very clear to Rachel Maddow and anyone else trying to keep up with the Inaugural Ball appearances by our new first couple, that these Balls are nothing but trouble.

Either Michelle has to sweep her own long dress out of the way as she dances, or Obama steps on it.  He's so busy trying to keep his slow, precise beat, he doesn't even notice that his First Lady Love is having her hem trampled.

I say we cut out the Inaugural Balls and let the First Couple get some well-deserved sleep, so that our new President can be ready to end our occupation of Iraq tomorrow.

What say you good people?  Yea?  Or nay?

I really enjoyed the poem that was read today at the Inauguration.  I looked it up online and found that Salon had a transcript of it.  I'd like to post it here for you as well.  To me, it spoke of and for the "every person" and emphasized the day's importance to us all.  Enjoy:

Poet Elizabeth Alexander's poem, delivered at the inauguration of President Barack Obama.

Praise song for the day.


Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.

A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."

We encounter each other in words, Words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; Words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road."

We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.

Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self."

Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.

What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.

In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.

On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.

I first learned of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in 3rd grade, while attending Pierson Elementary School in Tarrytown, NY.  

In a big classroom with big windows with radiators underneath each, I sat with my classmates in the dark and watched the noisy movie projector project images of a man I didn't know.  A man who had a dream that sounded wonderful, because it mentioned children, and some sort of promised land.  When he talked about children of all colors of the rainbow coming together and holding hands, I remember feeling rather puzzled, because the kids in my class and I already DID hold hands.  When he talked about all people being equal, I didn't understand how anyone could think we WEREN'T already equal.

It did not occur to me at the time that he was gone.  I didn't really know anything about assassination back then, other than that it was a term used in regards to President Kennedy, who'd died just before my birth.  

It took me quite a few more years to learn what Dr. King, Jr. had fought for, because growing up in NY, I went to school with kids from all backgrounds, and I didn't really need to be taught to embrace our differences.....I didn't SEE our differences.  We were all just kids.  All of us the same age, all of us growing up together, learning together, playing together.  Bigotry and racism was something I had to learn about through stories, textbooks, and later, strangers.

It's my hope that that is always the case, from now on....except that it should only be in history books, and on old movie projectors.....and in the past....but never quite forgotten.