Today is January 20, the day the President of the United States is inaugurated. This year, we are purposely out of the country. We won’t be watching any news coverage or following the proceedings on social media.
This isn’t the first time we’ve boycotted or ignored a Trump inauguration. Back in 2016, just days after the election, I came home and told Jane we were leaving town for the inauguration. Living in Bethesda, just a twenty miles from the U.S. Capitol, I couldn’t stomach being in DC for Trump’s coronation.
By the end of election week, I surprised Jane with a trip to Aruba. We spent a delightful week there, maintaining a strict media blackout of the Trump circus. We missed the Women’s March that took place before January 20, but we did see a small solidarity march of about a dozen women on the beach. After returning home, we joined a pro-immigration march in response to Trump’s Muslim Ban—the first of many protests we attended during his administration.
Now, on the other side of the world, our tour group in India is a mix of Canadians, Brits, Australians, a Swiss traveler, and our Indian guide. Everyone is astonished that Trump was re-elected. Our Canadian friends are baffled by his hostility toward their country and worried about a potential tariff war. Our guide mentioned that people in India have been praying for Kamala Harris, especially given her mother’s Indian roots.
Meanwhile, Trump has moved the inauguration indoors—not due to the weather but to avoid drawing attention to the sparse crowds. The forecast in DC today is milder than Obama’s first inauguration in 2009, which was far colder yet drew a massive crowd.
I’ve attended a handful of inaugurations over the years. The first was George H. W. Bush’s in 1989. Even though I wasn’t a supporter, I went for historical reasons. As a U.S. Senate staffer, I had easy access to tickets. On January 20, I grabbed one, walked from the Russell Senate Office Building, and found myself in the Congressional staff section by 11:00 a.m.
January 1993 was a milestone month for Jane and me. We got married on January 30, just ten days after celebrating Bill Clinton’s inauguration. That year, we attended the swearing-in on the Capitol grounds and danced the night away at an official inaugural ball.
Obama’s first inauguration in 2009 was historic—and the event Trump remains most jealous of. The crowd, estimated at 1.5 million, filled the National Mall with an atmosphere of pure joy. Jane, the kids, and I were there, and I’ll never forget the experience. For me, the most profound moments were seeing older Black attendees and the joy and amazement on their faces. Many had grown up in the segregated South—or even faced racism in the North—and likely never imagined seeing a Black man sworn in as President of the United States. It was a moment they thought impossible in their lifetimes, and it was an honor to witness it with them.
Traveling Walters 