Cape Codders join multitudes on the Mall

Written by Heather Wysocki

January 23, 2009

Generation gap narrows among local witnesses to history NOT QUITE THE SUPE R BOWL – A Cape Codder, maybe? EI ther way, this attendee of Barack Obama’s inauguration is probably much happier now than she was during football playoffs. Heather Wysocki Photos SEAT OF HONO R – Attendees of the Barack Obama inauguration in Washington, DC, find viewing spots anywhere they can find them. ... AND ONE NOT SO HONO RABLE – When space on the streets, grass and sidewalks filled up, enterprising Washingtonians found a new way to view the inauguration of their 44th president Washington, D.C. - Shimmering off the frozen Reflecting Pool, just a few hundred feet away from Capitol Hill, the building’s stars-and-striped bedecked walls waver as shadows bounce across the ice. Hundreds line the water, waving flags and red, white and blue scarves that make similar watery reflections. Here, the day still seems almost like a dream: hesitating in the wind, fragile on the frozen water, almost too perfect and unmarred to be true, more like a reflection of inner hopes than something that’s actually happening. But, if eyes are raised from the water to the sky, Capitol Hill becomes solid, an ivory monolith that exists not only on the ice but on the ground, too, a steady and unmovable reminder that today’s inauguration is very real. The face of Barack Obama beams from building-sized screens placed from here to the Washington Monument, watched by the millions who braved the 25-degree weather for a chance at reigniting their beliefs in a country that, some, say has forgotten itself a bit. And from where the new president stands to miles away at that monument, tears are shed and whoops of joy heard from all directions. Today, visitors and residents of Washington, gathered like so many sardines onto small patches of trampled grass and cold concrete, unite in a way that most have never seen – except, as pointed out sardonically by one Boston-area visitor, during the 2004 Red Sox World Series parade. Perhaps, for Cape Codders, Bostonians and all Americans alike, we’ve finally hit a home run. The Lord’s Prayer is whispered in unison. There are chants of “Hey, hey, hey, goodbye” at the appearance of outgoing president George W. Bush, and not so quietly. As triumphant hands meet Bible on the steps of the Capitol, tears fall from John Bangert’s eyes. “I just couldn’t stop crying,” he said. Together with seven other Cape Codders, including his daughter, Harwich resident Bangert, organizer of the “Choo Choo for Change” that brought 90 Cape Codders to Washington for the Jan. 20 event, stands, hugging and introducing himself. “We introduced ourselves to everyone around us,” he said. “It wasn’t a day to spend with strangers.” What could have been a day of pushing and shoving and the death of civility in the face of mob-sized crowds became one of connections, the only casualties a few dusty lost mittens along the inaugural parade route. Whitney Shufelt, a 16-year old junior at Barnstable High School, came down with her school group, signing up almost a year beforehand knowing no one else on the trip. “No matter what, it was gonna be something I could tell my grandkids,” she said. Shufelt, too, embraced the sense of community that can be formed only when millions of people come together for the same reason. Though she signed up for the trip without knowing anyone, after one long night she made friends. “We spent the night on the train together,” she explained. After one even longer morning, from a 6 a.m. walk to the hours spent after the inauguration in an Annapolis, Md., hotel, she’d made thousands. “It was surprising how many people felt the same way… It was wicked optimistic.” While dignitaries smile and schmooze on the historic steps and a poet speaks of praise songs, Bangert hugs his daughter, eyes still watering. “It was one of the most emotional moments of my life,” he said from a nearby restaurant a few hours later. In the background, civil rights rally songs played. Watching for themselves on CNN and MSNBC, members of the group, including William Koppen of West Barnstable, began a spirited version of “God Bless America,” a song many of them haven’t wanted to sing in a long while. Praise for mountains and prairies and oceans, white with foam, streamed from the group’s lips but was stopped abruptly when the next verse was reached; everyone had forgotten the words. “They started out strong, but in the end they started to mumble and hum,” Koppen said. Rusty from feeling dissatisfied, if not with the country than certainly with its government, spirited singing waned to a low murmur. But forgotten words aside, pride remains, and maybe that’s what this is all about: Many in attendance at the 2009 inauguration have forgotten, or perhaps have never felt, the patriotic pride of earlier generations. Despite weathered flags and tentative choruses, the feeling here is that that feeling is coming back. “I had shivers,” Shufelt said. “It’s going to change my life forever.”