Fortunately, the french commentators did not speak over the oath of office. As it went, including the fumbling of the words, we all looked on holding our breaths. The cheer around the room was ear shattering, and for me, I was overwhelmed. I texted to Pat - it's safe to go back in the country - an allusion to his overwhelming frustration with the Bush administration and my rants and frustration with politics in general.
However, the rest of the speech was spoken over by the commentators who were translating the new president's speech into French. Unfortunately, that didn't really satisfy me! I wanted to hear the speech, see the crowd (which I couldn't do much of from my vantage point) and stand next to my fellow Americans who were celebrating. I felt very much like I was in a foreign land, when I really really wanted to be home. The audience response was interesting, too, but I don't know how many were having the same problem that I was or that the French-speaking population didn't feel the emotions like the Americans did, as there were very few outbursts of applause, and on a couple of occasions there were noticeably weak smatterings of applause, but I don't know what that was, or what people were reacting to because I couldn't hear our President, just the french translation.
So, even before the poet, I said to Pat and Carole - "Let's go." I knew that the American Library and the American Church were both going to offer rebroadcasts of the entire event and I really wanted to get more than I just had out of the experience. So we left the 10th arrondisement and headed to Alma Marceau and the Quay d'Orsay.
On the way (on the Metro), Carole and I were chatting and there was a reporter sitting just across from us (apparently listening). She asked if she could interview us for her radio program, but she only wanted to talk to us if we could speak french. We pointed to Pat and passed the baton. As the now 4 of us approached the American Church, we realized we were at first going to a christian church ceremony, and were going to watch the speech afterwards, which could be a problem as we were approaching 7:30 p.m. and had definitely grumbling bellies.
As an aside, running into the reporter only further supported my assertion that many reporters really just want to report their views and are constantly looking for someone who will allow them (usually unwittingly) to put the reporter's words in their mouth. She constantly said statements that all 3 of us carefully disagreed with, and nonetheless she eventually attributed to Pat the statement that he was no longer ashamed to be an American. Of course NONE of us ever said that we were ever ashamed to be Americans, and further we were never ashamed of the US.
This whole notion of shame seems to be an interesting assertion and pervasive belief of the French that we have been asked about several times over the last few months and we have constantly refuted. And of course, particularly on this day - we spoke only about being proud, and hopeful and were truly astounded at the opportunity to restart being seen as a world leader that was held in high regard. Living in Europe, it is painfully clear that our reputation as a country had moved towards being perceived as a bully on the world stage, versus being a leader and a partner in world politics.
So, anyway, we went to the church were there was a fantastic gospel program, and we sang our hearts out to "My Country Tis of Thee," "America the Beautiful" and "God Bless America." When we sang "My-home-sweet-home," Carole and I both burst into tears. I have never felt so homesick as I did in that moment. We were informed that we were in the very church were Martin Luther King, Jr. preached a sermon after he received the Nobel Peace Prize on his only visit to Paris, and we all smiled about the serendipity of making that connection on this particular day, and this, our first visit to the church. The nondenominational service, which was PACKED by the way, also included a conversation between the Pastor and an American member of the congregation. The Pastor asked her to reflect on her hopes for the future. She said (and I paraphrase):
When my great great grandmother was alive she was called a Negro-American...when my great grandmother was alive she was called a Colored-American...when my grandmother was alive she was called an Afro-American; my mother was called a Black-American, and I am called an African-American. My hope for the future is that my daughter will be called an American.I will make it my constant effort to deliver this hope for her. I was so moved by her words and sentiment that I have been relating this story where ever I can.
We ultimately didn't watch the acceptance speech, in fact I still haven't heard it. I know that I will sometime, but that doesn't seem so important now. After hearing the prayers, the songs and the comments, I heard the sentiments and historically significant oath, and the meeting room was packed, and we were just too hungry to wait. We contributed to the church's service project in honor of MLK's day of service, and then we headed down the street, found an excellent Italian restaurant, and celebrated being an ex-pat in a beautiful city with a sparkling Eiffel Tower. But we knew where and what our true home was - an amazing country with unlimited potential.
Long live a country where an amazing American family can rise to the president's office, despite literally all odds. WOW I love my country.
