Of hopes and dreams.

Here I go again. Even at the risk of boring the collective pants off my burgeoning readership, it’s going to be Obama one more time. Today is his Inauguration Day. It would be downright perverse to look anywhere else. I will even eschew references to the issue of doggies in the White House, and resist the temptation to dwell on the advice of smart Harry Truman, who said, “If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog.”

Nowadays I pride myself on my self-discipline! Oh, and don’t you just love the word eschew, particularly the chew part? What I wouldn’t give for a chunk of bone to get my long unused teeth into!

Anyway, I have to tell you that, as I get into the flow of this, my remit becomes clear. There’s no point in my sharing with you all the daily minutiae that already overwhelm you from too many sources. I should use my otherworldly perspective to give you the big picture. Now, it’s not going to be consistently global. My Scottish heritage tends to draw me to Europe more than objectivity should allow. And my Westie sense of humour may occasionally lead me astray. But, when it does, I’ll do my best to avoid anything but the most amusing trivia. Okay with you? Hope so.

There’s that word again, hope. And really that is what today mainly represents. At the most poignant level, it’s the moment of truth for the dream born of Rosa Parkes’ brave stand, well, brave sit, I suppose, fifty-three years ago. The dream found a voice with Martin Luther King and now finds its incarnation with Barak Obama. Hopefully.

How symbolic that Martin Luther King Day should be the segue into Inauguration Day. How wonderful if Obama is indeed judged “not by the colour of his skin, but by the content of his character.” The world holds its breath and watches. We have all waited a long, long time for someone who might bring a compelling vision of unity to this sometimes inspirational, sometimes crass crucible of humanity we know as America. Above all, the world hopes.