D.C. in the Chapel

As I pulled the old wooden doors open to the Chapel on North Campus around 11:15 a.m. and walked in to witness what the media had coined as “history in the making,” I’m not sure what exactly to expect. I walk past the “No Food or Drink” sign and a police officer on his cell phone in the lobby. I enter the back of the Chapel and am greeted by an overbearing projection screen with CNN coverage of the inauguration. As I look around the room I’m not overwhelmed by hoards of students who skipped out on class or teachers who opted out of office hours. Instead, I look out onto a diverse group of individuals.

My eye first catches sight of an infant merely months old who lies sleeping in her father’s arms. I see the flash of two photographers swarming the room taking candid photos of the crowd. I see three young African- American boys who must be playing hooky from school to be here with their parents. I see several older men and women who have clearly seen more than one presidential inauguration in their time. There are families here. Moms, dads, daughters and sons, dressed in their fluffy jackets and scarves. There is a boy, no older than 4, with uncontrollably curly blonde hair who sits in front of me yelling “OBAMA!” every time he sees his soon-to-be president.

As I pan the room, I see watchful eyes focused intently on the screen. Few people are talking, and as the moment draws near, silence fills the room. The silence is soon broken with clapping as the Obama family is introduced, and then minutes later, the man with whom all of this celebration is for, appears. The young boy begins his “O-BAM-A!” chant and the clapping seems contagious.

The crowd soon subsides and silence consumes the room once again. They listen to Aretha Franklin belt out a familiar tune, and in unison they bow their heads in honor of the opening prayer. Everyone even stands as Obama takes his oath and then sits to listen to every word of his speech. It is as though the less than one- hundred that sit before me are in Washington D.C. standing and watching just like the millions of others that are on the screen.

As I sit among this gathering of generations who have come together to witness “history in the making,” I realize what all of the hype the media has pumped into this cold day in January is about. Although we sit hundreds of miles away from where this historical event takes place, I see now that we are just as a part of this event as the VIP’s who got a front row ticket. Seeing how one man has brought so many together, putting the past behind us for the day, left me, and what I assume many others, to be in huge anticipation for the future that is upon us.