My favorite part of the Inaugural Ceremony was the recitation of this poem by the author, Richard Blanco:
One sun rose on us today, kindled over our shores,
peeking over the Smokies, greeting the faces
of the Great Lakes, spreading a simple truth
across the Great Plains, then charging across the Rockies.
One light, waking up rooftops, under each one, a story
told by our silent gestures moving behind windows.
My face, your face, millions of faces in morning's mirrors,
each one yawning to life, crescendoing into our day:
pencil-yellow school buses, the rhythm of traffic lights,
fruit stands: apples, limes, and oranges arrayed like rainbows
begging our praise. Silver trucks heavy with oil or paper—
bricks or milk, teeming over highways alongside us,
on our way to clean tables, read ledgers, or save lives—
to teach geometry, or ring-up groceries as my mother did
for twenty years, so I could write this poem.
All of us as vital as the one light we move through,
the same light on blackboards with lessons for the day:
equations to solve, history to question, or atoms imagined,
the "I have a dream" we keep dreaming,
or the impossible vocabulary of sorrow that won't explain
the empty desks of twenty children marked absent
today, and forever. Many prayers, but one light
breathing color into stained glass windows,
life into the faces of bronze statues, warmth
onto the steps of our museums and park benches
as mothers watch children slide into the day.
One ground. Our ground, rooting us to every stalk
of corn, every head of wheat sown by sweat
and hands, hands gleaning coal or planting windmills
in deserts and hilltops that keep us warm, hands
digging trenches, routing pipes and cables, hands
as worn as my father's cutting sugarcane
so my brother and I could have books and shoes.
The dust of farms and deserts, cities and plains
mingled by one wind—our breath. Breathe. Hear it
through the day's gorgeous din of honking cabs,
buses launching down avenues, the symphony
of footsteps, guitars, and screeching subways,
the unexpected song bird on your clothes line.
Hear: squeaky playground swings, trains whistling,
or whispers across café tables, Hear: the doors we open
for each other all day, saying: hello, shalom,
buon giorno, howdy, namaste, or buenos días
in the language my mother taught me—in every language
spoken into one wind carrying our lives
without prejudice, as these words break from my lips.
One sky: since the Appalachians and Sierras claimed
their majesty, and the Mississippi and Colorado worked
their way to the sea. Thank the work of our hands:
weaving steel into bridges, finishing one more report
for the boss on time, stitching another wound
or uniform, the first brush stroke on a portrait,
or the last floor on the Freedom Tower
jutting into a sky that yields to our resilience.
One sky, toward which we sometimes lift our eyes
tired from work: some days guessing at the weather
of our lives, some days giving thanks for a love
that loves you back, sometimes praising a mother
who knew how to give, or forgiving a father
who couldn't give what you wanted.
We head home: through the gloss of rain or weight
of snow, or the plum blush of dusk, but always—home,
always under one sky, our sky. And always one moon
like a silent drum tapping on every rooftop
and every window, of one country—all of us—
facing the stars
hope—a new constellation
waiting for us to map it,
waiting for us to name it—together.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Happy Martin Luther King Day! Happy Inauguration Day!
I was feeling a little out of sorts today, so I stayed home and watched all of the Inaugural coverage while Dick went caching with the Gillespies.
|01/22/2013||You found Bridge to Nowhere||Visit Log|
|I noticed that the CO checked and replaced this cache immediately after I posted a DNF. That is commendable maintenance. I put it near the top of my list and came down today with Sharkie Crew to show her the area and find some caches she hadn't seen before. Thanks for the cache and for demonstrating how responsible cache ownership is preformed.|
|01/21/2013||You found Colossus of Rhodes||Visit Log|
|Last of the group to find this one. I was tied up logging the previous find on the iPad. I'm getting better but I don't think I'll ever be able to walk, talk, and log all at the same time. I think that maybe I should just take notes and log the find when I get back home.|
|01/21/2013||You found "Bond, James Bond"||Visit Log|
|No bug in cache. No pen either. We left a pen and traded sigs. We all enjoyed walking the loop. Had to explain what we were doing to a group of mounted muggles. TFTC|
|01/21/2013||You found Poker Run 6 - Four of a Kind||Visit Log|
|First find of the day with Sharkie Crew & Zoroan. We decided to do this short loop. Nice walk on a beautiful day.|
|01/21/2013||You found Sterope||Visit Log|
|Damp. Signed for Zoroan, Sharkie Crew, and Basswood Bend|
|01/21/2013||You found Lighthouse of Alexandria||Visit Log|
|Who lives here? Zoroan made the find, Sharkie signed for all with a Basswood pen. TFTC|
|01/21/2013||You found Junkers Ju 187||Visit Log|
|Mrs Sharkie spotted it|
|01/21/2013||You found Lorrie's Boeing 737||Visit Log|
|The CO misspelled the name, it's Laurie. Out with the Sharkies, they are both with AA.|
|01/21/2013||You found Fisher XP-75 / P-75 Eagle||Visit Log|
|And the rain came down again. On the trail with Zoroan and the Sharkie Crew.|
|01/21/2013||You found Douglas C-47 Skytrain / Dakota||Visit Log|
|Wish I'd worn rubber boots. It sure did rain!|
|01/21/2013||You found Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress||Visit Log|
|A nice overcast day. Mr Sharkie made the find|