THE WHITE HOUSE GATE

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December 5, 2001. Do you know where you were and what you were doing? I was standing at the gate of the White House, watching as bomb sniffing dogs examined the bus housing our daughters and their singing companions.

It was sunny and cold for us, brisk, windy. But it was one of those time when even though I know it was cold, I did not feel it at all.  

It was barely 3 months since the unimaginable had happened: the September 11^th attacks. Now that we are a decade past that tragic day, it is hard to recall what things were life before…when you did not have to half-undress just to be able to travel on a plane; when you were served hot meals with real silverware and  air travel was an adventure, a pleasure.

Then too, you could drive by the White House and any other symbol of our government. You could park out front; you could picnic or even picket right there on the street in front of any building.

We had free access to our national capital, even to the people’s house, the White House. You could show up and take a tour of the public spaces and know that somewhere in the West Wing or the Family Quarters our President and his family were just yards away—you could almost touch them.

You could just walk into the Smithsonian taking your lunch, a change of clothes and a backpack. But all of that was before September 11, 2001.

Because of the September 11^th attacks, our children and we were subject to search and bomb-sniffing scrutiny. 

We were there because our children’s choir had been  invited to sing at the White House. They performed two concerts for the White House Staff Christmas party.

I am sure they were magnificent.  The photos taken inside the White House certainly look as they sang as beautifully as the reputation that they had earned.

I take that on faith though. We parents were not permitted beyond the White House gate…the very one you see on TV all the time.

We were close—not close enough to hear.  At one point between concerts and before the White House tour that they were given, the singers came onto the steps of a porch and we were able to photograph them from a distance. 

We have the memorabilia—a photo of Laura Bush, the replica of the White House decorated for Christmas, a letter of congratulations from President Bush, a photo of them singing in the White House. We have their shared remembrances and we have our memories-- of standing at the White House gate.

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