COLOR ME HAPPY

I was all aglow on Monday.    All my work and worry and obsessive Facebook posting last fall had finally come to fruition at the election after-party that is Inauguration Day.  Only a million people showed up on the National Mall this time, unlike the nearly 2 million in 2009, but most I heard interviewed (the "just folks" interviews) said President Obama's Second Inaugural was even more meaningful.  It proved that 2008 was not a "fluke", a 15-minutes-of-fame sort of celebrity wave of novelty.  Re-electing Barack Obama made him legit.  We like him; we really like him.

So Monday was a moment in history -- the moment when a black man (well, biracial, but no one really sees that) is sworn in for a second time, this year falling on the national holiday that is also Martin Luther King Jr. Day.  It does seem nearly impossible, given the brief span of time (well within my lifetime) since the days of attack dogs and fire hoses.  MLK taught us to dream, and this President is a dream come true.

I had the TV on all day.  But in spite of my delight and interest in the proceedings, I was distracted.   "Angel's" mom dropped her off at 7:30 a.m. for a day of "childcare" with us.

Here's more good news, if sometimes inconvenient.  Angel's regular childcare provider had a paid holiday.  Yep.  She has operated her own in-home childcare for many years and has a reputation for being a caring and skilled provider with a preschool teacher background.   Angel is very happy there, has learned to print her name, sing songs, count, recite her ABCs, and color amazingly detailed pictures.  And her provider runs a very professional business.  She takes paid holidays, meaning Angel's parents paid for the day, but did not receive childcare.  At first we were all frustrated with this occasional inconvenience (and expense), but the more I thought about it the more I admired this provider/business woman for valuing herself and her profession enough to run it like a real workplace.  She is doing extremely important, demanding, and stressful work -- why not treat her with the respect she deserves?

That said, it was rather startling in October when she announced that she was taking 2 months off to visit family in her native Pakistan!  She was one part thrilled/one part anxious, as a naturalized American citizen, a woman, and YIKES!, a Christian, any or all of which she feared carried more weight at this point in history than being native born Pakistani.   Her brother installed security cameras around the perimeter of his home in preparation for her visit.  But now she's back and the smell of curry wafts through the door when I sometimes fetch Angel from childcare.  We all think it is funny that Angel, when the scent of curry finds her in some random place, says, "Mmmmm, that smells good!"  We think she has imprinted an olafactory memory that will last a lifetime -- like me with bread baking in the ovens of my childhood.

So, as we played tea party, dollhouse, blocks, race cars, and bouncy ball, ate snacks, gave our Toby-dog treats, petted the cat, made a fort, whipped up blueberry smoothies, danced, sang, read stories, and colored endless pages in the Christmas coloring book that we didn't get to over the holidays, and drew a notebook's worth of pictures of ever more elaborate birthday cakes (not sure why...), we also had the Hail to the Chief festivities going in the background.

Occasionally I would call Angel's attention to the TV, expounding, "That is our President, Angel!  He is the leader of our country!  His name is President Obama!  When he was little he lived in Hawaii where you visit your grandma and grandpa!"  I was full of enthusiasm, trying to draw her attention to politics, geography, and American history.  At one point she mimicked, "That's our President!  Can we color now?"  I could tell she was largely unimpressed.

As it should be.  She's 3-1/2.  And by the time she's old enough to care, a black (or any other race or ethnicity) President, a woman President, a gay President...all may be unremarkable.  I hope so.  I pray so.  As I watched her navigate her play-world in the warmth and love of our home,  I thought of the very different world I saw around me growing up, where white men were the only people who held positions of privilege and power and I didn't even realize I could find my voice, as a woman, to protest that fact until I was 24 years old.

Angel will find her own battles to wage to make our world a better one, but she won't be invisible or silenced or ridiculed just for being female and multi-ethnic herself.  Her mother is caucasian, her father is Native American, her soon-to-be step-father, my son, is Caucasian/Hispanic, she has a Hawaiian middle name to honor the state in which she was born.  She is a 21st century child; the face of our changing America.   Thank God.

At least, that's the view from here....©