As we made our way towards the stage, my coworker and I, I noticed all the other tickets I saw had a red stripe across the top while ours had a blue one. Assuming that this was what distinguished my ability to be within social space zone of the POTUS, I pondered why blue might be more patriotic or trustworthy than red.
Bleacher seats had been set up in front of the Miller Lite stage of the Summerfest grounds (all of the advertisements covered up of course) in somewhere between 10 to 15 rows. Wondering if we should have arrived sooner, we sat as close to the podium as we could which ended up being slightly off center and 7 rows back. The next two hours were filled with anticipatory chit-chat, beer drinking, the stage filling with people to stand behind the man, person to person shuffling as the spaces were filled, and lots of sweating under the high sun. The crowd cheered as Air Force One flew overhead, the air thick with elation. More important looking men with ear pieces slowly appeared. Gunmen stood on the tops of buildings. The press on some scaffolding behind the coveted VIP seats straightened their ties. The crowd teasing speeches crawled on at the pace of a sloth, as the unconscious collective wondered where he was and when he would emerge next to the huge symbol of our common factor. This huge flag was stretched over a wooden frame, curled over the back and stapled on.
6,000 and some people took their last replenishing breath before erupting with cheers, applause, screams, and squeals; I watched through my camera view finder to see him stride into the sun in his summer linens.
I'm not going to reflect much on his speech as one can draw their own opinions by viewing it for themselves. However, as many times as I've watched this man speak on TV or the internet, there are a few things that I didn't expect. The first thing that really struck me was how he has aged.
His humor no longer touches his eyes, all signs of innocence gone from his face. He looks like he's serving his tenth term instead of his second. He mentioned that every gray hair is worth it. I wondered how much of it really is. As I was listening to him talk, I decided that if I had one question to ask him, I would ask why he does it everyday. What is the driving force behind him waking up everyday and getting back in front of Congress and doing what he believes is right to just be faced with opposition.
But as I listened, there was something else I didn't expect. I feel like even watching the video of what I experienced that day doesn't do justice to how angry he seemed. The rage I heard didn't seem like that of the put together man I normally witness. Admittedly, I was relieved by this. Being content with the world as it currently exists is one of the worst mistakes we can make.
After his speech, he turned and shook hands with the union workers directly behind him, as the rest of us looked on jealously. To my surprise (and after some disapproving looks from the secret service), he headed down the stairs in front of the stage towards the VIP audience. The flimsy barricade was rushed as citizens around me pushed forward and reached their hands out towards him. As someone who isn't the happiest in crowds, I stood back and watched the chaos. The longer I stood, however, the louder my subconscious got. The most powerful man in the world (arguably) stood less than 30 feet away from me. This man that made history just by running in the presidential race, and then became the first man of color to win, wasn't in Wonkavision. The man who's motto of "change" has always spoken to me.
Before I knew it, I was forcing myself toward the barricade, yelling "excuse me" as I shimmied through the sweaty mob. A middle aged couple directly next to me fiddled with cameras as the woman said "get my picture while I'm shaking his hand!" I debated pulling out my trusty iPhone but decided against it. Instead, I made myself as tall as I could and reached my hand forward as he got closer. He made his way down the line, shaking hands, smiling at his people with eyes that said "I understand and I'm doing this all for you." Before letting go of the hand before mine, the man that made jokes about his long form birth certificate being a scene from The Lion King moments before killing America's biggest enemy, laid his eyes on me. For the most entrancing 5 seconds of my life, Mr. President gazed into my eyes with a curiosity I've never seen. As the woman next to me screamed at her significant other to get the camera ready, I mouthed to him "thank you." He nodded, held my gaze a second longer, and moved on. Volumes were spoken between our eyes.
Regardless of political affiliations, shaking the president's hand is a pretty astonishing thing (even though I did have a stronger hand shake than him). Love him or hate him, I think that the leader of our country deserves at least a thank you.
As I inform others of this experience, most people ask for a picture or video of the event. When I look back on my experience, I'm glad there isn't one. That moment is now between him and I, without the preoccupation of trying to capture evidence of it's existence.
These are my two pictures with the POTUS and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Never be afraid to put the technology down and engage with the people around you.
All my love,
Christine
