How Did He Do It?

Frontline Documentary shows how Obama did it – from child, to college, to community organizer, to law school, to head of the Harvard Law Review, to the State Senate, to the U.S. Senate to the Presidency!
by Charlie Leck

The Obama story is an incredible one and the best telling of it, which I’ve encountered, came from the PBS documentary on Frontline: The Dreams of Obama. [Watch it here!]

One of my good friends recommended it to me. I watched it this morning and found it most illuminating and explanatory. You won’t be sorry if you take this production in.

The Good, the Bad and the Wonderful

It was a fine inauguration, but it had its shaky moments!
by Charlie Leck

It was a fine inauguration in spite of the stumble by the Chief Justice of the United States when he was swearing in our new President.

There were two extraordinary highlights for me.

One came when the highly respected black pastor and devoted civil rights worker, the Reverend Joseph Lowery, gave the benediction and concluded it before a President who was giggling and smiling (reverently)…

“Help us work for that day
when black will not be asked to get back,
when brown will stick around
when yellow will be mellow,
when the red man can get ahead, man,
and when white will embrace what is right”

The other was when the poet-friend of the President’s, Elizabeth Anderson, read her special creation for this occasion, “Praise Song for the Day.” It knocked my socks off and big, salty tears rolled down my cheeks as she concluded. Here's the full transcript, but the conclusion, beginning with the words, "What if the mightiest word is love..." is what got me.

Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others’ eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.A woman and her son wait for the bus.

A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, “Take out your pencils. Begin.”

We encounter each other in words, Words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; Words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, “I need to see what’s on the other side; I know there’s something better down the road.”

We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.

Some live by “Love thy neighbor as thy self.”

Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.

What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.

In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.

On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp — praise song for walking forward in that light.

Wow! Were you listening? Did you hear her? Just imagine! “What if the mightiest word is love… love with no need to preempt grievance?”

Oh my! White America, were you listening. It seems over! Over! There is no need to preempt grievance! From here, from now, we start even and your guilt you may shed and the excuse of the black slaves ends here and now -- if we both buy into the bargain.

We start on even footing and we go forward, together, to make an incredible, beautiful America.
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I need time to reflect on Obama’s speech. A dozen emails tell me it was perfect… “wonderful”… “inspiring”… “unparalleled”…. I need time to think about that. I need to read it again… and again… and, perhaps, again, to understand where he was going. It was not what I hoped for, but I need to quietly read it again and again.
_________________________________________

Pastor Rick Warren’s invocation was embarrassing. When I was just a kid, my father used to say, “They should have a trap door!”

But, not only was it too long, the totally Christian tag at the end was uncalled for. This is “no longer just a Christian nation.” This is a land of many religions and many faiths. The Bible thumpers think that they must pray using the name of Jesus every time because he is quoted in the gospel as saying, “When you pray, pray in my name!” That’s fine, but that doesn’t mean that every prayer must verbally state it is in his name. The Christian may be praying in the name of Jesus, but those of the Islamic faith are praying in the name of Mohammed. Grow up you fundamentalists and let your minds relax and your hearts be more open. The inclusion of the Lord’s Prayer by Warren was a real shocker.

This is the Day!

What we’ve been waiting for – George W. Bush will exit and Barack H. Obama will make his entrance!
by Charlie Leck

It is early! I’m having some neighbors in to nosh and watch the inauguration on the telly with me. I need to filet some lox and make a quick run to the bakery for a nice fresh coffee cake. I’m praying no one will care to look at my library because I won’t be able to get it cleaned up this morning. Stacks of books and piles of papers and photos just seem to grow wildly here. Someday I really need to attack this mess; however, when I sit here to work these piles are comforting and companionable.

No one more excitedly anticipates the inaugural address as I. I’ve been thinking about it since election night, vain enough to arrogantly wish I was somehow involved with the writing team.

No thunder and lightning from Obama today – no black expressionism – no standing on the shoulders of Martin Luther King, Jr..

Today he rides the historical speeches of Lincoln, Roosevelt and Kennedy. He must express strength, courage and fearlessness. He’ll call on us to be involved in the healing and rebuilding of the nation. He calls on us to be team players and to unite for the sake of the nation.

There will also need to be a warning to potential foes and heavy-handed nations. He won’t mention any names, but Korea and Iran will clearly get the message. The implications will be precise – that he won’t make the mistakes of George W. Bush and any military involvements will be sharp and thorough.

It will be very brief. It won’t break records for brevity, but it will surprise us when he utters the final words: “And God bless America!”

Hating Obama

We need to understand that there are many people who are actually frightened about living in a nation presided over by Barack Obama!
by Charlie Leck

Did you watch any of the incredible concert from the Lincoln Memorial Sunday?
My, it was difficult to control my emotions. What an exciting show! Springsteen was spectacular and his song with Pete Seeger was nearly too much for the emotions. What a line-up of the spectacular entertainers. [Read the NY Times review/report of the event!]

It’s hard to believe, after watching that concert yesterday, that anyone in America wouldn’t like Obama.

Yet, a friend writes about the pride he’s feeling as the election nears and about how impressed he is when watching Obama in these few days before the inauguration. Then he ponders about something that I find myself wondering about, too.

“I can't imagine what it must feel like for people who are hard core anti Obama...no matter what their reason. I’m gonna wait a little while and then talk to my friend ***** (whom you met) and try to see what this is like for him, as a conservative, Republican racist, and not a stupid man. He told me, 6 months ago, that his son, a career Air Force officer would resign from the military, before serving under Obama... He told me that mutual friends of ours, a very wealthy attorney and his wife, were making plans to move to Australia if Obama was elected. What must it be like for people like that?”

I know we were feeling so strongly around this house that we were actually talking about what it would be like to live in Ontario – near Toronto – rather than in the states. We were so upset about the negative direction of the country and the very hateful people who seemed to be in control. We weren’t sure we could abide four more years like that.

Now, to realize there are those who feel that strongly about not wanting to live under Obama gives me pause and I actually feel some sympathy for them. My hope is that they will give this new President a chance and that they’ll see he is a President for all people, and all states, and all times.

I’m so sure of it. I am so confident that his speech tomorrow is going to win a lot of people over. I hope those who thought they couldn’t exist under him – couldn’t continue what they were doing – couldn’t abide his leadership – will give him a chance.

Do you know that nearly half the population of America hated Abe Lincoln when he took the oath at his first inaugural? Seems like, historically, there was more rationale for that.

When I look at that smile that Obama flashes and when I see the warmth of his eyes, I can’t imagine that everyone wouldn’t be as encouraged by him as I am. Obviously, I don’t understand completely.

Andrew Wyeth Remembered

Andrew Wyeth Paintings
by Charlie Leck

Yesterday, I posted a blog about my one-time, bump-into, meeting with Andrew Wyeth – one of my life-thrills.

Today I’m posting for your enjoyment, small images of a several of his paintings.

If you want to purchase prints of Wyeth works, the best place for you to do it is at the on-line store of the Brandywine River Museum. Wyeth worked just down the road from the museum.

Andrew Wyeth (1917-2009)

He popped his head in through the open window and laughed heartily toward us, and shouted his greeting!
by Charlie Leck

About 15 years ago, in Chadds Ford, Pennsylvania, my wife and I were sitting in one of the most charming little inns in America, having lunch with a dear artist-friend. It was a perfect spring time day. The little window by our table was open and some sweet floral aromas were carried in and to us by a delightful little, wispy breeze. We were sipping a very good wine that the barman had recommended. All in all, things were about perfect and I couldn’t imagine them being any better, when suddenly a diminutive fellow with white hair and a craggly face stuck his head through the window and softly shouted a greeting to our friend.

My wife was startled by the sudden manifestation of the slight fellow and I, recognizing who it was, felt my nerves tingle with excitement. I was utterly star-struck.

“Andrew,” our friend called out, stretching out to offer his hand, “come in and join us and have a sip of wine.”

“I suppose I have time,” the head-in-the-window said. He withdrew and began his little walk along the porch toward the front door.

My wife could see that I had identified the face in the window, and her eyes quizzed me as to who it was.

“Wyeth,” I said to her, “it’s Andrew Wyeth.”

“Yes, yes,” our friend confirmed, “and no nicer man will you ever meet!”

And for the next half-hour, Andrew Wyeth sat with us and charmed us with brightness and cheerfulness. We sat mostly in silence, content to listen to the two artists sharing jibes and tales.

Eventually he turned cordially to us and asked curious questions about our reasons for being in his hometown and then pursued those questions with others, sounding all the while genuinely interested. Of course, I couldn’t be so simple as to tell him he was, by far, my favorite artist and that we had just spent a few hours in the Brandywine River Museum going through its private vaults, looking at the dozens and dozens and dozens of his works that are held there.

He laughed heartily at almost everything.

“So, Frolic, they’re into this craziness of yours, also?” he asked our friend. “They look far too normal to be doing these wild things you do.”

Our friend, you see, had gotten more than one DUI ticket as a result of driving his horses down the road after having had a touch too much alcohol. He also was known for the time he hired a naked lady to sit on a branch that hung over a trail upon which his visiting friends would be driving their carriages on that particular day.

“No, no,” he replied to Wyeth, “they’re not so eccentric as I.”

Today, as I write this, I find myself so wishing I had recorded more about the encounter in my journal, but that’s all I wrote down.

Now, mind you, I find it totally boring when folks begin telling me about their encounters with famous people. I really don’t care much for that line of conversation. I’ve had enough of those encounters myself, and I generally prefer not to bother people with recollections about them.

But, sitting with Andrew Wyeth in such a casual, comfortable manner, really did blow me away. Here was this man whose paintings tear into my inner soul, and tantalize all the nerves of my body, and stimulate my imagination to incredible heights – and he was merely an arm’s length away, talking about all sorts of normal, everyday kind of things and never once mentioning what he did or hinted that he was any more important or distinguished than we. He departed, it seemed, as swiftly as he had stuck his head in through the window. He rose from his chair with a little jump and laughed pleasantly as he shook our hands and took his leave.

From that day on, I paid even closer attention to his creative work. I think I have looked at all his paintings and drawings – the entire breadth of it, at least in photographs. How entrancing and enchanting they are!

A few moments ago, I heard that he died today (16 January 2009). Of course, he will live on and on through the immense body of his work. He’ll live on in my mind, too. I will go again to the Chadds Ford Inn and remember my few moments with him there. And then, I will go over to the museum and see everything of his at which they’ll let me look. Never will I forget his bright, lively eyes and the feeling of having his hand – that talented, remarkable, creative hand – in mine, if only for a moment.

The Andrew Wyeth Web Page

New York Time Obituary (Andrew Wyeth)

Counting Today

Counting today, there are 5 days between then and now and, frankly, I can barely wait!
by Charlie Leck

I am trying to think of any day in my life that might have had the strength of historical implication and significance that 20 January 2009 will have.

Those days of World War II when Pearl Harbor was attacked, when our troops went ashore at Normandy, when Germany and Hitler fell, and when Japan Surrendered? Perhaps!

That awful day, 22 November 1963, when the assassin’s bullet killed a young and exciting President, John Fitzgerald Kennedy? Maybe!

The day, 8 August 1974, that Richard Millhouse Nixon became the first President to resign from office in disgrace? I think not!

The April day in 1968 when Martin Luther King, Jr. fell dead on the balcony of a motel in Memphis, Tennessee, the victim of a sniper? It was dreadful!

An African-America will assume the office of President of the United States of America on Tuesday morning – only 5 days from today, counting today – 20 January 2009.

The horrible, filthy and crowded slave ships are now only a dim spot in history! The Africans aboard them were not treated as humans and not even as well as animals would have been cared for. The institution of slavery, the great sin of our fathers, became our national shame. Our treatment of the descendents of those slaves over the next four centuries remains our national disgrace and the great sin of the sons of our fathers.

I’ll repeat myself. Counting today, in 5 days, a man with African blood – a man of color – will take the oath of office and assume his place as President of the United States. He is not descended from a southern slave. His father was a Kenyan of pure African blood, born on the shores of Lake Victoria, in the small village of Nyang’oma Kogelo. His remains were buried in that village in 1982.

I expect that on Tuesday, 5 days from today, counting today, there will be some spirits looking on and they will be at peace.

The father of the man, Barack Obama Senior, and his mother, Ann Dunham, a white woman, and her mother, the man’s grandmother, will be watching too.

Martin Luther King, Jr. will be smiling. He had been to the mountain top and had looked over to the other side. He had seen this day coming. He knew, unlike any of us, that it was near. On the night before he was murdered, he said:

"He's allowed me to go up to the mountain.

"And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!

"And so I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man!

"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!"

On Tuesday, Mickey Schwerner, James Chaney and Andrew Goodman will be there, looking on also and, as I will, they will shed some tears of happiness.

The slaves will be there as well. The spirits of those who died aboard the ships and were tossed, without ceremony or identity, into the rugged sea. They will look down and they’ll be singing African songs of joy and victory. And a giant chorus of all those slaves, who did not live long enough to taste the sweetness of freedom, will sing the soft quiet songs they hummed as they picked the white man’s cotton.

"Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home

I looked over Jordan and what did I see
Coming for to carry me home
A band of angels coming after me
Coming for to carry me home

Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot
Coming for to carry me home

Sometimes I'm up and sometimes I'm down
Coming for to carry me home
But still my soul feels heavenly bound
Coming for to carry me home

Booker T. Washington, W.F.B Du Bois and Marcus Garvey will look on in utter happiness and listen intently to the new President’s inaugural speech. As will A. Philip Randolph.

James Farmer, Edward Brooke and Thurgood Marshall will watch the swearing in with special reverence and interest.

And Malcolm X, too. He’ll be there and he’ll laugh and cheer! And, Stokely Carmichael. And Medgar Evers. And Emmet Till.

Some artists and writers will gather together and look over at the events of the day with great interest. Among them will be Langston Hughes, James Weldon Johnson, Arna Bontemps, Jean Toomer, Bayard Rustin, James Baldwin and Paul Robeson.

Jesse Owens, Jackie Robinson, Satch Paige, Arthur Ashe and Joe Louis will be watching, too.

So will Ella Fitzgerald, Marian Anderson and Ertha Kitt. Mahalia will be warming up her pipes. Muddy Waters will be peeking over and watching it all. Thelonios wouldn't miss it! And Satchmo will be carrying his trumpet, getting it ready for the evening parties.

Abe will be there as well. He’ll want to hear the tall, lanky, big-eared guy from Illinois, who is supposed to be a speaker as remarkable as he was himself.

An inauguration for the ages!
This is not just any inauguration. This is an inauguration for the ages. The ceremony will fully ratify the dream of the nation and those recorded words that created it, confirming once and finally that “all men are created equal and are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”

And perhaps those founding fathers, who signed those words and sent them off to the repressive King of England, may be watching, too, and winking at one another and whispering softly: “I told you so!”

Friends, this day coming on now in 5 days, counting today, may turn out to be the most momentous day in the history of the union – no less just in our time alone!

Wherever you are, and whatever you are doing, stop when this man of African blood raises his hand and puts the other upon the same old Bible upon which Abe himself swore his sacred oath; and listen with keen attention as he swears the words that will sound across the nation and beyond the seas to far off lands and peoples who will watch in utter disbelief. Hopes will be raised around the entire world. What once seemed improbable and even impossible will no longer seem so -- not to any child across the wide, wide world.

"America, this is your moment!"

America, you are coming of age and fulfilling your promise and I am proud of you. So proud!

A remarkable column in today's NY Times (Return of the Natives) explains the Native American reaction to Tuesday's inauguration of Barack Obama. It is very much worth your time to read it. [click here]