What a remarkable night in Philadelphia. Sure, I am proud of my hometown. Still, the story goes much deeper than that.
I am just feeling hopeful and could not agree more with the now infamous words of Michelle Obama;
“Don’t let anyone tell ever tell you this country isn’t great”
Really that is the premise of the It’s Working Project — we will listen well and we use our insights carefully. Our mission remains the same —help the private sector bring families back to work with ease, as a matter of course and with a sense of pride. And, in the spirit of Mrs. Obama’s words — our goal is to optimistically support the private sector to not only reach compliance but better still, to create simple solutions that allow us all to rise.
Monday night, inspiration came in a remarkable array of shapes and sizes — personal experiences, universal expectations and a bold view of what will come next with Hilary Clinton at the helm.
I was moved, as so many of us were by the powerful words of Cory Booker, the way in which the crowd responded to his compelling and passionate words and even getting a laugh or two out of the duo of Franken and Silberman.
But what really got me? The view of parenthood shared by the remarkable Michelle Obama. And she was not alone, though she captured the crowd in ways that echoed into day two and likely for years to come. She reminded us of her early days in the White House as a mother first, and of course, the concerns and doubt that accompanied moving her family to DC, her girls starting their first days at Sidwell Friends School and their secret service escorts to that first day as new students in a brave new world. I identified and smiled broadly from the way in which Kirsten Gillibrand identified herself as a mom at pick-up. And from the rich candor with which Linda Sanchez spoke of finding her work-life fit. It was honest and yes, it was optimistic.
I left Philadelphia in 1985. I was bright-eyed, ambitious and hungry for life’s experiences. I left behind friends and a way of life that would never be mine again. Though the way life works is funny, and sometimes these things circle back. The very sweet silver lining of losing a beloved friend to a terrible disease this summer was reconnecting with a childhood friend in a new way. This weekend, Julie came to DC to bring her daughter to look at colleges. Funny circle that was created — my leaving point was our reconnection point. The power of that was not lost on me as I made plans for a day doing some of what I have always loved, followed by an evening reconnecting.
Bob and I made plans to visit my all-time favorite art-space in DC — The Phillips Collection. There, we would enjoy the Van Gogh exhibit — interestingly enough called Repetitions (an exploration of Van Gogh’s repeated study of the same subject matter). It is a worthwhile show and a very engaging way to connect with some some of my favorite Van Gogh subjects (the towns of St. Remy and Arles as well as the families that filled his world).
As we wandered thought galleries on 21st Street, I made my way to another old and very dear friend. I have been visiting Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party at the Phillips Collection since I arrived in DC in 1985. I have powerful memories of standing in front of this majestic, lush painting with my mother, my friends, various dates and certainly alone. I would dive deep into the narrative of the painting — paying close attention to the characters. I saw myself in the painting — that was clear. I was (or longed to be) the flirty, alluring woman in the top right. She had a twinkle in her eye was surrounded by two rapt men. She did not lack for company or attention. She did not lack for anything it seemed. Though yesterday when I stood in front of that painting, I allowed myself to look not though my old lens but with fresh eyes. And as I did, tears began to flow from my eyes as I realized with complete clarity that I was not that girl. I may have been, and that may have once worked for me — but that “moment” seemed far away. I looked harder, wondering if I was even still at the party. And I was….my eyes connected with the woman sitting confidently alone, sipping her wine and taking in the scene with a quiet strength. This is the actress, Ellen Andree. I did not realize that I was crying until the lovely, young docent walked over and asked if I was ok. I explained what I had been considering and she said clearly, kindly and with total conviction — “that is who you want to be — that other woman had a messy, complicated life — the actress was the best of the guests”. I will take it…
This weekend was about revisiting. And while backwards is not my preferred trajectory — I am glad I did.