Sunday in the Park With Barack


Yesterday, we finally got to see Barack Obama.

Before the Democratic Convention, we applied online for tickets to the acceptance speech at Invesco Field. Didn't get them. We stood in line on another cold Sunday morning for tickets to Obama's speech at the Colorado School of Mines in Golden. Didn't get those either.

So when we got an e-mail from the campaign that Barack would be speaking in Denver's Civic Center Park at 11:30 Sunday morning, no tickets required, we set the alarm for 6:30 a.m. and hustled downtown, loaded with Starbucks and the New York Times. (We were anxious to read the magazine's cover story on the McCain campaign. It was such a case study in ineptitude that it was almost painful to read.)

Civic Center Park is bordered by the Denver Art Museum and the Denver Public Library, as well as government buildings. (Yes, Sheila, you were there.) The gold-domed Colorado State Capitol building sits across a wide avenue from the park. The weather was colder than had been predicted, but the blue skies and good-humored crowd offset the chill, even during the long lines to pass through the security checkpoint.

We were thrilled to actually make it into the the park. Many in the crowd of over 100,000 did not, and the sea of humanity flowed across the avenue all the way up the steps of the Capitol. I'm not sure those folks could even hear the speech, but they stayed anyway.

Other Colorado politicians spoke before Obama, who didn't come on until nearly noon. (Fashion note: Obama was the only politician who wore a tie; Coloradoans are an informal bunch. U.S. Senator Ken Salazar showed up in his trademark white cowboy hat.)

In the end, we glimpsed Obama only occasionally, given the six-foot-plus, dreadlocks-wearing guy who wedged his way right in front of us just before Obama arrived and refused to move or even duck a little so the rest of us--who were packed like sardines and had been standing in that same spot for two hours--could see. The young couple next to us, both shorter than me, gave up and left, furious. All of my pictures of Obama are blurred, because I had to hold the camera way over my head and to the side to avoid getting a close-up of the tall guy's dreads.

The best part of being there was feeling, given the huge number of people who turned out, as though Americans finally might be ready to throw off their years of apathy and self-centeredness, and get down to the business of repairing our country. Obama made it pretty clear that it's not going to be easy and that some sacrifice--and he did use that word--will be required. I hope we're up for it, because when you finally see him in person, in a huge crowd (as opposed to filling your TV screen), you sure don't want that skinny guy with the strong, warm voice to have to carry all the burdens by himself.

8:33 PM | Labels: | 3 Comments  

Why we can't stay indoors . . .

9:17 AM | Labels: , | 0 Comments  

Sharing the Trail

One of the things that I love about Colorado are the ubiquitous "Share the Road" signs, reminding drivers and cyclists to play nice with each other. (We could have used a few of those signs in Brussels, although I suspect that the Belgians would have ignored them.)

Hikers, cyclists, and horse riders also share many of the dirt and paved trails out here, generally with good humor and manners worthy of 18th century European aristocrats. ("You first." "No, no, you. Please, I insist." "Why, thank you. Enjoy this beautiful day.")

When we hike at the base of the mountains, as we did yesterday, we sometimes see signs such as this one:


Which is how we found ourselves sharing the trail--which, after all, crossed their grazing lands--with a small herd of cattle. Hana completely ignored the cows--even the huge black one, who trotted right out in front of the dog's nose--and they paid no attention to her. Apparently even the livestock in Colorado are easygoing about sharing open space.



On a related note: Hana and I recently spotted some livestock just off the paved trail that winds through our neighborhood. I had to rub my eyes to make sure I wasn't hallucinating, but sure enough, there they were, a trio that I can't stop thinking of as "Llamas for Obama."

11:20 AM | Labels: , | 5 Comments  

Eldorado Canyon


(Another in the "Can you believe we live less than an hour from here?" series . . . )

A fellow newcomer to Colorado told me that Eldorado Canyon reminded her of the Southwest. Jenn didn't mention that Eldorado is a rock climber's heaven, with over 500 technical climbing routes. The routes have ski run-type names: The Whale's Tail. Potato Chip. The Bastille.

Being flatlanders, we were awestruck by the tiny figures inching up the canyon walls. (When the only thing you ever "climbed" in Michigan was Sleeping Bear Dune, and your two-year-old son went up and down it twice in one morning, you realize that there is climbing, and there is CLIMBING.)

Eldorado Canyon also offers a bit of historical color. In the early 20th century, a luxury hotel perched at the edge of one of the cliffs. Although Crags Hotel burned to the ground less than five years after it opened, you can still see the skeleton of the main fireplace. You'll also see a lot of hikers standing around that fireplace scratching their heads, trying to figure out how anyone ever managed to haul guests and their luggage, much less building supplies, up the mountain.

More pictures from Eldorado Canyon:
http://picasaweb.google.com/Katharine.Gillette/EldoradoCanyon

10:52 AM | Labels: , | 1 Comments  

Full Confession

After 12 years in Catholic schools, I can feel guilty for just about anything I've ever thought, said, or done, even decades later. At the moment, I'm feeling guilty for voting for John McCain in Michigan's 2000 Republican primary.

The Michigan Republican primary was open that year, meaning that even registered Democrats (e.g., me) could cast a vote for their favorite Republican. ("Favorite Republican" would be an oxymoron these days.) Since I thought even then that George Bush was, as one columnist delicately put it, "a high-functioning moron," I wrote John McCain's name on the scrap of paper that served as a ballot.

When I see John McCain now, I'm ashamed that I ever voted for him. The malice and lies emanating from his campaign make me nauseous and terrified for my country. And Sarah Palin brings back nasty memories of Melinda P., a "mean girl" whose name proceeded mine in the alphabet in our high school homeroom. Every time she turned around to say something to me, I shook in my desk.

Sometimes I wish that there was a human equivalent of prairie dog holes to hide in until the election is over.

Prairie Dogs, Flatirons Vista Trail, October 5

10:05 AM | Labels: | 2 Comments  

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