When the drapes match the carpet
Dear President Joe Biden,
I cried a lot yesterday as I watched the pageantry of the Inauguration sweep away the ugliness of the past four years. I cried during your inaugural speech, your visit to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, your remarks at the Lincoln Memorial, and especially during the fireworks when you and Jill stood on the balcony of the White House, silhouetted against those bright blossoms of color. As explosions of light dispelled the darkness over DC, the skies mirrored those small bursts of hope I experienced throughout the day as I saw you safely sworn in and, finally, firmly, fervently step into the role of President.
When you quoted Lincoln, saying, “My whole soul is in it,” I repeated this myself, believing it to be true.
And I felt this way until you entered the Oval Office.
In the past 24 hours, much has been written about the changes you’ve made to that historically-significant, politically-charged space. I understand the reasoning behind the selection of the paintings, busts, couches, tables, and rugs, and I’ve learned much about their provenance. What I don’t understand is those curtains.
Those gold, gaudy, ugly, unsettling curtains.
Trauma is a funny thing. While so many of us are breathing that ‘collective sigh of relief,’ many others…
