Janice Flahiff and Victor Taylor, an administrator at Ganta Nursing School, checked out Web sites.

Thirty years ago, I left Liberia after two satisfying years of Peace Corps service teaching math and science in a rural junior high school. This past May, I returned for three and a half weeks to again share knowledge as well as learn more about Liberia firsthand. This time I traveled with a group sponsored by the Friends of Liberia, a nonprofit organization that is largely made of “returned” (this word is used instead of former!) Peace Corps volunteers from across the United States. Our group of 27 was divided into three teams: health/medical, teacher training and environmental. I was the sole medical librarian with nine other team members, including a physician, several nurses, mental health professionals, social workers and a laboratory technologist.

Our team worked at two different up-country mission hospitals for a week each as guest lecturers in their nursing programs as well as consultants to the faculty and staff. My goal was to teach basic computer skills and how to find free, relevant, reputable health/medical Web sites. The hospitals have Internet connections via satellite. However, electricity is only available for about nine hours each day at both hospitals. Fuel costs for the generators are high, and publicly available electricity is limited to about 10 square blocks in the capital. Before traveling to Liberia, I collected more than 100 Web sites and posted them at http://delicious.com/GantaHospital and http://delicious.com/CurranHospital. I was hoping to refine them after consulting with faculty and staff at both sites.

Janice Flahiff taught an Internet workshop for Ganta Nursing School faculty.

Ganta Hospital had two computers in a small room, which could seat about six people, and no means to present the Internet live or through screen shots in a classroom. I presented an hour-and-half lecture to a nursing class of 30 students and separately to a group of seven faculty. I focused on the rudiments of searching, Web-site evaluation and Web-based health/medical information directories. Most of the students seemed alert and interested, and took notes.

At a second session, a nursing instructor approached me at the start of class and tactfully proposed that I use his laptop so that students in groups of five could view the basics of Internet searching. I showed them the “delicious” sites I set up and a Web directory, stressing Web evaluation, links and Web-page navigation. Many were able to apply what they had learned in lecture and were extremely interested in the Web-page content, especially disease information. They read as much as they could before their 10 minutes were up. The Internet connection was a bit slow, but workable.

Curran Hospital had a library about the size of a reading room, with seven PCs. The Internet connection at this site was very similar to what I experience at work. I taught content similar to that at Ganta Hospital to two interested faculty members: a Peace Corps education volunteer on site who showed interest, and the hospital’s librarian, who had recently completed a three-month library certificate in the country. One faculty member was having challenges with using a mouse, while the other faculty member seemed adept at navigating within a Web page. I was seated between them and did the best I could striking a balance between their learning levels. The Peace Corps volunteer asked for another meeting. I was happy to oblige, and we went over questions she had, basically about good Web sites for specific classes the students were taking.

The level and length of training at both sites were limited, probably because of a number of factors. Teaching schedules by members of our group were not made until on site and were entirely at the discretion of the hospital administration. Faculty, staff and students spend long days at the hospitals, so Internet sessions were worked in not only with their existing schedules, but classes conducted by other members of the health/medical team.

While the contact time for formal and informal teaching probably could not have been made longer, a few things probably would have made the experience more relevant for the staff and students. I could have made e-mail contact with hospital administrators ahead of time and gauged expectations and Internet knowledge and experience among the students and staff. Most staff and many students seemed to own cell phones. Not only could I have “advertised” office hours, I could have made myself available for consultations by providing my cell phone number. That being said, those who were able to attend the presentations were given basic information on the Internet and hopefully a good starting point for relevant Web sites.

Flahiff is a reference librarian in Mulford Library.

So I find myself sitting on the National Mall at 10:15 a.m. on Jan. 20, with a page from the Washington Post serving as a blanket, looking out at a sea of thousands of heavy boots that undoubtedly contained multiple pairs of socks and a few foot warmers. I had been standing since before 6 a.m. and needed to give my knees a break. I was cold, tired and feeling a little claustrophobic in a crowd that would eventually number two million. We were about a half mile from the Capitol, dependent on a Jumbotron to glimpse the day’s events. At that moment I asked myself, “What am I doing here?” There were still two hours before the new president would take the oath of office, and I was in no mood to wait.

UT professors Barbara Floyd and Dr. Andy Jorgensen posed for a photo during the inauguration.

But wait I did, and as tears welled up in my eyes when Barack Obama took the oath of office at 12:04 p.m., I realized why I was there — to witness history. And all of my doubts melted away and all the inconveniences became inconsequential.

There were so many images of that day and the two previous days that I will never forget. On Sunday, the “We Are One” concert produced many memorable moments, like a crowd of 500,000 singing “This Land Is Your Land,” led by folk legend Pete Seeger and Bruce Springsteen, and Garth Brooks leading a chorus of “American Pie.” People standing in line for up to an hour to have their pictures taken with the now-famous stylized portrait of Obama by Shepard Fairey hanging in the National Portrait Gallery. Whole families getting their photos taken in front of the Canadian Embassy’s banner that proclaimed “Canada Welcomes President Obama.” Seeing the not-yet-president’s motorcade speed down the street. People eagerly buying any souvenir with Obama’s image (or, even more desirous, his family’s image.) Crowds so large that it took 30 minutes to get out of the Metro station. Waiting 20 minutes to cross the street as tens of thousands tried to get to their destinations. Arriving on the mall at daybreak Tuesday morning as a beautiful pink sunrise served as a backdrop to the Capitol, which was adorned with flags and seemed to glow from within. The image seemed to symbolize a new day for America.

This shot of the Capitol at dawn on inauguration day was taken by Bill Little, Barbara Floyd's husband.

But what I will remember most is the joyousness of the people who gathered Tuesday. Despite the difficulties and indignities that come with packing two million people together in the cold and making them stand for seven or eight hours, no one complained. Everyone shared stories about why they were there, how long they had traveled to get there, and what it meant to them to be there. It was like a family reunion, but with people you did not know. Much has been reported about the diversity of the crowd, and I can attest that all those reports are true. There were people of every color, gender, sexual orientation, age, economic status and nationality.

And at 12:04, when the president placed his hand upon Lincoln’s bible, you could have heard a pin drop (if that were possible in a grassy lawn.) Two million people stood silent, with the exception of an occasional sniffle that signaled the emotion of the moment. As President Obama addressed the nation, there were many cheers that punctuated his speech, and the sounds of millions of gloved hands clapping. The crowd hung on every word.

The event made me think a lot about my late father. My interest in politics developed at the kitchen table when my father would almost nightly rant about the latest injustice he perceived against the “workin’ man.” There was never any question about which political party we belonged to — in our house, there was only one.

But despite his strong sense of equality and justice, there was one group of people he could never bring himself to see as his equal — African Americans. Growing up in several small Ohio towns, he never personally knew any such people, but he was sure they were different. And as someone who struggled to earn a living in heavy construction, he undoubtedly saw African Americans as competitors on the ladder of upward mobility. I stopped encouraging him to vote in 1968 when he cast his ballot for George Wallace. No one could ever convince him that his racist views were unfounded, and we learned the futility of challenging his racial epithets.

But this past June, as he lay gravely ill in the hospital, he told my husband in what would be his last conversation before he slipped into a coma that if Barack Obama got the nomination, he would vote for him.

As I watched President Obama take the oath of office, I was reminded that like my father, we are all shaped by our personal histories. But on a few rare occasions, our collective history as a nation can redefine that personal history. I believe my father would have been proud of his country on Tuesday.

Floyd is director of the Ward M. Canaday Center for Special Collections, university archivist and professor of library administration.

This past Tuesday at noon, my world stood still. Barack Obama was moments away from being sworn in as our nation’s 44th president. As I was standing with my dad amongst millions of other Americans, I thought back to one of my favorite biblical quotes. Psalm 30:5 tells us that “Weeping has endured for nights but now joy cometh in the morning.” That’s the feeling I had as I watched this symbolic transfer of power. America had wept for eight years under George Bush but at 12:04 p.m. on Jan. 20, joy came with Barack Hussein Obama.

While in D.C. for the inauguration, Mark Carter met Sen. Amy Klobuchar of Minnesota.

I took special pride in this intelligent and charismatic black man taking that sacred constitutional oath. From the moment that he gave the keynote address at the Democratic Convention in Boston five years ago, he became one of my role models. I read both of Barack’s books, Dreams of My Father and The Audacity of Hope. I was not only inspired by his story and rise to power as a political science major, or as an American, but as a black man in America. I was motivated by the fact that a boy who had a mother from Kansas and a father from Kenya was able to attend Columbia and Harvard universities. I was inspired that he took on the Chicago establishment and won the hearts and minds of everyday, working folks. I was inspired that he rose from being a state senator in Springfield, Ill., some four years ago to being president of the United States. Only in America can a dream like that be achieved.

My trip to D.C. was all made possible by Sen. Debbie Stabenow of my home state of Michigan. She was gracious enough to give my dad and me two tickets to the inauguration. I don’t usually use hyperbole, but the past four or five days have been some of the best of my life so far. When we arrived in D.C. on Saturday, the city was buzzing with anticipation of the coming days. Everyone was friendly and smiling, as if Washington, D.C., was heaven. I spent Sunday touring our nation’s capital. I watched the Lincoln Memorial concert from the magnificent Newseum on Pennsylvania Avenue. I stood next to President Bill Clinton’s very modern and interesting portrait at the National Portrait Gallery. Monday was also a day to remember. I got to personally thank Sen. Stabenow for our tickets at the Michigan Congressional Delegation luncheon. I shared punch with Sen. Carl Levin and Gov. Jennifer Granholm. I knew that other than meeting the president himself, no moment would top the events that would take place on Tuesday.

Mark Carter, left, posed for a photo with UT student Mark D'Apolito.

My parents were born in the year 1959. This was four years before the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and five years before the Voting Rights Act of 1965. A black man in 1959 could never be elected president of the United States, and in most Southern states couldn’t even vote in a presidential election. On Nov. 4, 2008, Barack Obama shattered the glass ceiling of the American presidency for minorities with the force of a nuclear bomb. Not only was this extraordinary man elected, he won states like Florida, Indiana, North Carolina and the capital of the Confederacy, the state of Virginia. So here we were this past Tuesday witnessing history. Millions of Americans packed into the Metro station to be a part of change. I will be forever grateful that I was a part of history and a part of change. At 12:04 p.m. this past Tuesday, Barack Obama put the hopes, dreams and burdens of an entire free world on his back. I thank God that I was there for the first moments of this potentially remarkable point in history.

Carter is a sophomore majoring in political science.

To set the stage for this occasion in my life, let me note that I was born in Chicago not far from Barack Obama’s house and grew up just a few miles west, but in a neighborhood that was not integrated or as trendy as Hyde Park. The housing “color line” was just a short walk east. So President Obama’s crossing of the ultimate “color line” by moving into the White House is historical, but I think that the decision of voters about the content of his character and the strength of his ideas was the more significant event.

UT professors Barbara Floyd and Dr. Andy Jorgensen posed for a photo during the inauguration.

My interest in politics began as a Young Republican in 1968 as I worked for Richard Nixon’s election, but I have had a distinct shift to the left. With this history and after watching some of the best and worst of politics during this campaign, I knew that I had to be on the mall to make this unprecedented denouement a part of my life.

My professional perspective for this election comes from an interest in governmental connections to science. During 1994-95, I was on sabbatical in D.C. and witnessed the victory of the Republicans and the Contract with America. My present sabbatical, at the National Council for Science and the Environment, is a partnership with my hosts and colleagues at other universities to produce educational materials on climate change. I have heard Steven Chu speak about the urgency of dealing with climate change; he is now the secretary of energy. John Holdren is also an expert on this topic; he is now science adviser to the president. These facts show that Obama “gets it” when it comes to issues of science. This is a true turning point in the relationship between the government and my profession compared to the past few years.

Dr. Andy Jorgensen took this photo of the Capitol at dawn on inauguration day.

The other dimension of my interest in things political is on the public expression of religious beliefs. Last year brought numerous conflicts between faith and politics. I wanted to listen carefully to how religious considerations were included in the inauguration. Having read Rick Warren’s The Purpose Driven Life, I judged him to be sincere with many excellent ideas, but he does sit in a different pew than I do. I have admired his brave campaign to interject issues of stewardship of the Earth in his ministry, which aligns with my religious perspective.

With such thoughts on my mind, I attended the inaugural concert. The crowd got to hear Bishop Gene Robinson ask that we be blessed in many ways, including “with anger at discrimination,” and “the understanding that our new president is a human being, not a messiah.” The concert itself was an outstanding amalgam of what America has to offer in music. I should note that “seeing” was via Jumbotron since there were hundreds of thousands of people between me and the performers.

On Tuesday, seeing the rising of the sun behind the Capitol was an uplifting experience that set the stage for an unforgettable day. After several hours of camping out at a spot to again watch a Jumbotron, we viewed the arrival of dignitaries. The highly variable response of the crowd to each individual was interesting. One of the most joyous receptions was for Al Gore — we do seem ready to deal with climate change. Others receiving warm regards were Colin Powell, Ted Kennedy and Jimmy Carter. There were also a few unseemly jeers for those departing the political stage.

Dr. Andy Jorgensen took this photo of the masses of people in D.C. for the inauguration.

Rick Warren’s invocation did seem conciliatory toward those rightly offended for some of his previous comments. The prayer included this very welcome line: “When we fail to treat our fellow human beings and all the Earth with the respect that they deserve, forgive us.”

Obama’s speech had been set up with a level of expectation more appropriate for a messiah than a man. The overall impression of his words that struck me was his emphasis on the need to change because our recent past has been wrong in so many ways, but also his belief that we have the capability to make those changes, but not without sacrifice. He used the scriptural text that we must “set aside childish things” to characterize and reject the partisanship of the past. But recent reports of discord on issues have made clear that this will not be easy. He highlighted the sacrifices of our ancestors as evidence of what we can accomplish — and not just in the past, but also in the future if we realize that the world is not the same as it was. A key line was that “… we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals.” This was received very enthusiastically by the crowd. He did not let anyone off the hook in terms of how we got here — yes, greed by some, but “… also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the nation for a new age.” These words will be welcomed by many because it addresses personal responsibility. His text also was notable for the fact that non-believers were included as part of the diversity that gives us our strength. But he expressed his personal view that “… God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny.” Professionally, it was very gratifying to hear that “[We] will restore science to its rightful place, and … harness the sun and the winds …” Obviously, these tools and technologies will be critical in achieving the goals he has set for the country.

The benediction by Joseph Lowery lyrically raised up these aspirations in thanksgiving and with an updating of scripture to look to the time “when tanks will be beaten into tractors.”

The day was physically challenging, including the two-hour walk home to my apartment, but this helped make the significance of the event even more memorable.

Jorgensen, associate professor and director of general chemistry, is on sabbatical, serving as Senior Fellow at the National Council for Science and the Environment in Washington, D.C.

Getting there

We traveled to D.C. from Toledo on Friday. The security woman at the Toledo airport was kind and excited about the inauguration. She was planning to take the day off and watch it from home.

Charlene Gilbert and her daughter, Simone, 5

On the plane from Detroit to D.C., there were lots of kids traveling with adult teachers, parents, friends, etc. It was nice to see. I sat in the aisle across from a man and his two sons. As I sat on the other side of the aisle with my two girls, I thought for a brief moment how all of this will impact our children. I loved seeing the joy on the faces of his sons. I felt a great deal of hope for all of our children. Then Simone’s ears began popping and I cradled her crying body until we landed.

Preparing

We are making plans for the next few days, but I actually am not that interested in “events.” I want to do more talking to my oldest daughter about why this is such an important day. She overheard some critics of Obama who inadvertently robbed her of a little of her joy about this weekend (which came as a complete surprise to me when I arrived here). We talked about differences, justice, war and peace last night. Big topics for a little girl. But part of me is beginning to feel like I may have sheltered her too much by talking about tough issues in broad, kid-friendly, general terms. Perhaps I need to tell her all that unspoken stuff that has been floating just under the “inaugural” national chatter.

I keep thinking she is too young for that talk. But if I don’t tell her, will she think this weekend is just about a big party, souvenirs and long lines? Will it make any difference in how she experiences the day? She is only 9.

Opening ceremony

Ashara, 9, and Simone, 5

The opening ceremony was wonderful. HBO color-corrected the day but, the day didn’t need to be enhanced; it was perfect as it was. The sky was gray, the reflecting pond was covered in patches of ice, the people surrounding us were all joyful. My daughters were perched on a rail overlooking the water. They could see the Lincoln Memorial and they could see the huge TV screens; the only thing they couldn’t see or possibly know was the journey we had traveled as a nation to arrive at this moment.

I searched for words, but it was so hard to find the right words, the appropriate words for children, the specific words that would have explained the tears streaming from faces or the still calm that flowed through the crowd when the first official voice came over the microphone.

So at some point I gave up the search for words. I just stood there and as I stood still, I realized how very, very quiet it was. Some 500,000 people were standing in near silence, waiting to begin. I looked around and concentrated on what this moment really meant. People of all ages, races and ethnicities were standing together, in joy, awe and humility. I looked at my daughters and all I could do was hug them and kiss their faces and try to squeeze the memory into their spirit. Then I looked up into the faces of a few of the older people in the crowd and I could feel this sense that we were there not so much to witness history but to bear witness — for all those we carried with us to this day — for all those who not only didn’t live to see it, but could not have imagined that we would see this day. I traveled to Washington, D.C., to stand in a crowd, two days later, some two million people and witness the swearing-in of our 44th president. I traveled to D.C. to bear witness.

Inauguration day

Gilbert

The actual day of the inauguration was colder than the day before, more people than I had ever seen in one place, and more daunting to navigate than I had expected, even with diminished expectations. Our family friends, with whom we were sharing the entire inaugural experience, subtly suggested that perhaps my youngest daughter would not last the day out in the elements and doing the long walk. Traveling en masse is a challenge, traveling en masse with children is a bigger challenge, traveling en masse with one 5-year-old in a crowd of millions is, well, let’s just say nearly impossible. Nonetheless, I politely declined to leave Simone behind, but did accept the extra key (code for “If you fall behind, at least you can get back”).

In preparation for this day, I had read all the children in the house the Obama kid biography, asked lots of questions to make sure they were getting the big facts, and provided editorial comments in the places where the story had been smoothed over (i.e. I had to explain divorce, the Rosa Parks story and why Obama was called “Barry” as a child).

I explained a lot of history to Ashara, my 9-year-old, and how this day was only possible because people of all colors, religions, ages, nationalities and backgrounds had come together and believed in a powerful dream. At some point, the civil rights movement came up and she told me I wasn’t born when that had happened and I told her that I was born during that decade and two years after I was born, a black man was shot for simply going into a bathroom marked “whites only.” I had to explain it twice before she got it, but she got it.

And then, at some point, I realized, beginning with this day, we get to do more showing and less telling. I realized I had been worried too much about words. As we walked into the river of people flowing toward the Capitol, I realized we were surrounded by images of Obama and the Obama family. I realized that I didn’t need words for this day. All I needed to do was to tell my daughters to look. Look at Obama. Look at Michelle. Look at Sasha and Malia. Look at all these people standing in the cold, listening with every ounce of their being to President Barack Hussein Obama. Look at what is possible when good people come together. See what Martin saw. Now, make new dreams, work for justice, do good in this world, be thankful.

The Journey Home

We spent the day traveling from D.C. back to Toledo via Detroit.

We drew a lot of attention. Simone was wearing the hat she got on inauguration day, not an Obama hat per se, but instead a wide-brimmed, red hat with red, white and blue feathers. I am not really sure it was actually for sale. It was just the hat she wanted from the vendor and I think in his mind, for $10 she could have anything on the cart she wanted, including a random red hat. The hat was just a small symbol of the absolute joy that infused our trip.
The morning we left D.C., we could not get a cab, the streets were jammed with cars, and the buses were packed. As we walked to the closest train station in the midst of a huge traffic jam, Simone got tired, said she couldn’t pull her suitcase anymore, and we couldn’t make it to the train. Without missing a beat, Ashara grabbed her sister’s suitcase, pulled it with her free hand, and shouted, “Yes, we can!”

Gilbert is the director of the Catharine S. Eberly Center for Women and professor in the departments of Women’s and Gender Studies and Theatre and Film.