Watching Rachel Maddow last night (it should come as no surprise that I find her delightful) she talked, of course, about today’s inauguration.

She said that this inauguration could end up being one of those “where were you when…” kind of moments.  I think she’s right.  I know many people who have traveled (on foot, by car, by train, and in the case of my friends Bird and Bama, by many cancelled plane flights) to stand on the Mall today, to just be there to witness this moment of history.

Most people I know, though, aren’t in Washington.  They’re making sneaky plans for long lunches, calling for reservations at Chili’s to ensure they can get a table where they can see the tv.  They’re taking sick days with their roommates and holing up in the house to watch together.  Heck, some people are even buying tickets to watch it at outdoor stadiums 3000 miles from Washington.

Me?  I’ll be crowded around the one tiny tv in our office, rigged with rabbit ears (thank goodness we’re still pre- digital transition!) watching with my coworkers and eating potluck brunch.

I don’t have anything inspirational to add to the huge volume of commentary out there already.  But I think Rachel Maddow is right.  This feels like a historical moment, one I’m going to look back on in 10, 20, 30 years.  This year has been full of moments I’ll tell my kids about someday: where I was when our country elected, and then inaugurated, its first black president, a man who I not only voted for, but to whose campaign I donated money and time.

I’m looking forward to a time when our kids are surprised at the idea that it once seemed unlikely, if not impossible, that we’d elect a black man to this office.