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There are moments from the past etched forever in our collective and individual memories like some haunting old daguerréotype in a family album. The inauguration of Barack Obama yesterday perhaps created ones for many of us. Here is mine.

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During the inauguration ceremonies, just as President Obama was being sworn in, I was driving through my little hometown, Liberty, an old and historic Texas town between Houston and Beaumont. I was headed to pickup my mother at the beauty shop -- even a historic inauguration cannot preempt Mama's standing beauty shop appointment on Tuesdays.

I was in downtown with the courthouse square to my right. Directly across the street, in the block occupied by the new City Hall, an old fashioned clock faced me. It was a few minutes past eleven o'clock, but it felt like a new dawn. With Obama's inauguration, a long cycle of American history had come to an unexpected conclusion and a new chapter was beginning. This beautiful crisp January morning felt like a good time for a Janus-like look back before looking ahead.

Since my birth in 1946, only a block away in old Mercy Hospital, there have been few such moments I have greeted with as much mixed feeling of anticipation, hope, and even a little fear. It all still seemed like a dream. Memories of all kinds washed gently and not so gently across my mind. I recalled, as if only moments ago, growing up in the next block at my grandmother's old home with my parents, grandparents, and great-grandmother all in the same household. It was as if the minute hands of that old fashioned clock measured time in decades. With such perspective, even centuries past seemed not that long ago.

Crossing the street to my left was a young black woman listening intently to an unseen radio. She was leaning into her cupped hand over an earplug in one ear covered to muffle the cold and gusting north wind, as I was leaning toward my car radio. I suspected we were listening to the same historic moment. I waved at her to cross, giving her a thumbs up as she did.

As she crossed in front of me, obviously distracted, she smiled. Almost apologetically, as if to explain her distraction, she said "I am listening to the inauguration."

I smiled back saying, indeed almost shouting, "Yes, we did!"

She smiled knowingly and said, "Indeed we did!"

Perhaps she was as surprised as I at encountering a fellow Obama supporter in our conservative little town where a Republican landslide swept many good Democrats out of county offices last November in an apparent Obama backlash.

The chance appearance of that young woman sent the hands of time racing backwards, reminding me of the young black woman who was hired by my family within days of my birth. Along with my great-grandmother, she effectively raised me, providing my mother an opportunity to begin working at the nearby courthouse as her mother before her had. The young black woman hired by my family was named Bernice, a name with which I struggled as a child. I called her Burr, which stuck for the rest of her life. As I grew older with a family of my own, my children knew her affectionately as Burr and visited her regularly on their visits home until her death. She remains a beloved member of our once large and now shrinking extended family.

One of my earliest memories with Burr are the trips we'd make to the courthouse with me in my stroller. Burr would leave me outside, usually with another black woman often there with another white child, as she went downstairs into the courthouse. I always wondered why she'd do that, but she'd always soon return and I was always left in very good care. I came to enjoy those little excursions and the company of her friends as one of the highlights of my day.

Years later, long after the Civil Rights movement, I recall talking with Burr about her experiences with racism. I learned then those trips were not for my pleasure, but her relief. While our family was not overtly racist, we lived in racist times. It was after I was out of my stroller, even years after she was informed by my grandmother that it was OK, Burr felt comfortable in using the bathroom at my grandmother's home. I can still recall the day she did. It was a quiet act of courage on her part. Even as a child, it signaled a quiet testimony that the times were at long last changing.

Burr's son, Larry, whom I had always considered an older brother, but could not, did not, dare acknowledge as such. Crossing too far across that unspoken racial divide in the 1950's even early 1960's just wasn't done. After Burr's death, Larry became a friend. We shared that mutual old unspoken sense of brotherhood. Sadly, I still do not see Larry, known locally as Pipsey, as often as I think of him or drive by his home, Burr's home. I saw him recently for the first time in years, but it will not be years before I see him again.

I once asked Larry what racism was like for him in our little hometown. He said, "It wasn't too bad here, like it was in other places. My worst memory," he continued, "was when walking on the sidewalks near the courthouse to meet Mama when a white man or woman was on the same sidewalk headed in my direction, we had to cross over to the other side of the street. If the sidewalk across the street was occupied by white people, we just had to walk in the street even if it was muddy." After a pause, he said, "I never could understand why we had to do that, but I heard many stories about what might happen if I didn't. So, I knew I had to or face the consequences which were not good." Adding, "I just didn't ever want to take the chance." Put yourself in his place, what would you have done? I know I would have chosen the mud over such a potentially dangerous confrontation.

As the hands of time march inevitably onward, whatever tomorrow may bring, the best, not worst, of American values and traditions has been on display recently. "Change Has Come to America" is a theme of the new Obama administration. Indeed change even feels as if it has come to Texas, even if reluctantly for many here. I hope it continues.

It has been decades since the phrase Proud to be an American was stolen by the political right in reaction to antiwar protest rallies and peace marches during the Vietnam War years. In the decades since, like many of my generation, the full meaning of that highly charged covertly politicized phrase has crossed my mind only rarely, much less my lips, or by extension my fingertips. Inauguration day, however, was not such a day. But nothing is gained by those of us the political left righteously trying to take back something stolen in some long ago political fight. Such division has for far too long defined hyper-divisive American politics. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow are days for all of us, even we often too proud and too few Texas liberals and progressives, to proclaim from the highest hill we are Proud to be an American.

If "Yes, we can!" was the theme of the Obama election campaign, "Yes, we did!" replaced it after the election. Now, "Yes, we are proud to be Americans!" sounds like sweet music to me as we all prepare for the months and years of work and uncertainty ahead.

Visiting the local library two days after the inauguration, I picked up a flag pin provided by the D.A.R. which I am now wearing proudly on my overalls as I work daily toward rebuilding damage from Hurricane Ike. The flag, particularly the flag pin, is another symbol co-opted by conservatives decades ago. It is high time we share those symbols which truly belong to all of us as we pull up our sleeves working toward a shared future.

It may not be the cowboy way, a favored Texas tradition, but the highly touted individualism epitomized by Bush and Reagan partisans, Wall Street greed, exaggerated militarism, and domestic policies favoring business and the wealthy over workers and the average American has brought our nation to the brink of economic disaster, not to mention foreign and domestic policy nightmares.

While it took a little longer than expected, Bob Dylan's words are beginning to sound not only appropriate but realistic: The times they are a changin'." The hands of time move on slowed now to a more natural pace. While the future is uncertain and blurred, I am optimistic for the first time in decades.

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Whatever your views of Obama's inauguration, wherever you are from, if you had a moment to remember during the inaguration, share it with the rest of us. Tomorrow will come, but memories will last forever.

Speaking as an outsider from the UK, and someone who's political stance is to the left, may I offer my congratulations on a fine choice.

When I heard that the Democrats where putting forward what what be either the first black president or first female president, I had serious reservations. I am, however, delighted with the outcome.

Setting aside Mr Obama's colour (which is a momentous acheivement without any doubt) he seems like a level-headed, intelligent politician, with a firm grip on reality and a vision of America's future, both domestically and globally.

There is no doubt Mr Obama faces a very tough presidency - with the current global economic meltdown, he will have a tough job turning things around domestically. Bu I think what the rest of the world are hoping for most is a more measured and calculated approach in America's foreign policy.

America, as the worlds most powerful nation, has responsibilities that come with that. Responsibilty to be even-handed, and to be seen to be even-handed. Early signs are that Mr Obama will look more closely at acheiving more long-term solutions to the problems of the middle-east, terrorism and the environment than his predecessor.

Here's hoping for a brighter future for us all.

Garp

agreed --- great day!

It t'was a historic day, for this is the first president who is younger than me.

I must confess what struck me most at the inauguration was Roberts' gaffe with the oath and Obama's decision not to correct him! The size of the crowd was impressive but I was disappointed with Obama's speech as it was too somber for my taste. It's completely understandable how dour the speech was of course, Obama's far too politically intelligent to divulge policy until he has to.

I don't think I'll remember that much about inauguration day in years ahead but will always remember crying at Obama's acceptance speech in Chicago on election night at around 5am my time.