Acting White: Old War Horses and Big Hats

I have a few more observations from President Obama’s inauguration. The first has to do with the oath of office comedy of errors. The second concerns the alleged Milli-Vanilli moment of Yitzhak Perlman-Yo-Yo Ma. The third addresses Aretha Franklin’s hat. The fourth is about the poem. Lastly, I consider Rev. Lowry’s (illustrated) invocating parting-shot.

It was only fitting that the Chief Justice and president-elect Obama would stumble on the hell-hath-frozen-over-my-dead-body handoff of the country’s fortunes to a black man. Just chalk it up to all the seismic activity of white folks rolling over in their graves at that moment, accompanied by the hand-clapping and whooping of the spirits of dead slaves et al.

As an occasional musician and childhood clarinet player, I wondered, through that entire quartet number, just how in heck those instruments were functioning in the cold. Unlike Milli or Vanilli, I knew each of the players to be consummate musicians, directed by John Williams, the maestro himself, so complainers need to get real.

The same goes for Ms. Aretha’s voice. Fortunately, her cords were somewhat protected from the cold. Regardless, that bow-dacious hat was absolutely needed to keep her warm, and it also had to compliment a face and voice that know no equal – a tall order. I say fine job to the Queen of Soul and her hat maker.

The poem. I had high hopes for my comprehension, but after a few words my bladder overruled my synaptic struggle. I hope others enjoyed it, but I mostly like that we had a knew face in the poetry mix, inspired, I’m sure, by Ms. Maya.

I cringed during the invocation when Lowery opened a big can of old civil-rights wounds. Obama’s pained smile said it all, but he also had to be thinking of his dear white grandmother complaining about scary black men, déjà vu again. Whenever I’m around really old folks, (and my kids think I’m old) I assume that their past will creep into the conversation. So I treat them like a favorite book that’s out of print, but all the more cherished for its hold on the past, and for helping us better live the present. One day the old folks will not be there to embarrass us, and we will be sad for our loss.

James C. Collier

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