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Couldn’t Be In D.C. But I Saw The Flame Lit in 2004


2004-dnc1Bob and I couldn’t be at President Obama’s Inauguration today but I was fortunate to see the “flame being lit” at the Democrat National Convention in Boston, July 2004.

As an “openly gay” Elected Kerry Alternate Delegate from Ohio’s 17th Congressional District, I was able to hear and see first hand what the nation has embrace as the “Yes We Can” spirit.

obama-2004-31I remember sitting among the Ohio Delegation, which was only yards from the podium were this little know Senator from Illinois spoke, and even today I can still feel the excitement and energy that he generated as he spoke to that Convention.

obama-20041This “baby boomer” and “Child of the Sixties” became a young man once again, maybe not physically, but in my mind I heard the voices and songs of the past and deep withing a “fire” was re-born and that fire was fueled by the fact that we were destined to “make the world a better place.”

obama-dnc-21Today as I watched on TV the history making Inauguration of the 44th President, Barrack Obama, I found myself wishing that my Mom and Dad could have seen this ceremony, for they in their small way, helped bring this day to a reality.

I would like to end this post with a 60’s song that seems fitting for this occasion of optimism and hope.

“We’re on the way to heaven,
We shall not be moved.
We’re on the road to freedom,
We shall not be moved.
We’re brothers and sisters together,
We shall not be moved.
Like a tree standing by the waterside,
We shall not be moved.”

One Comment leave one →
  1. 01/20/2009 2:50 pm

    I, too, watched the swearing in of President Obama, and share with you, your enthusiasm. Tristan, am I out of line if I were to tell you about a conversation I had with a friend of mine over lunch yesterday? Here are just about my exact words. ” I need a friend, a friend such as two or three friends I left behind me in Harrisburg, Pa.” I was referring to at least three male, gay companions of about my own age, at the time: all artistically inclined—a painter, a sculptor and a musician. I told my friend I need someone with whom I felt at ease, a male companion, someone who could share with me his world and accept me for what I am, an aging female who is not yet dead in the head, but a female who hasn’t the slightest desire to be pawed by some aging, would-be-romeo who can’t admit he not only has snow on his head but whatever fire in the furnace he may have had, has gone completly out. Could you send one such gentleman my way?

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