I came across my Secret Service ID for the Inauguration. I held it carefully. Not all that long ago, this little piece of plastic was a treasure above all others, representing an amazing time in my life, working on the Commander In Chief's Inaugural Ball this past January. There were a lot of factions involved, we were the three women of dePasse Ent. There was the Presidential Inaugural Committee, all five divisions of the Armed Forces, the Secret Service, the Senior Enlisted guys who were co-hosting the event, the big dogs from the Pentagon Channel, the various ranking people from Public Affairs and the President’s detail. Lots of rules and regs.
We took our credentials for granted, but soon found out that mysterious something called “the Underlay” was akin to the Holy Grail. People couldn't get from here to there without it. And we had to get everywhere. In hotel lobbies and banquet rooms, on dinner tables and couches with cell phones sometimes at both ears, we patchworked the event. One very sobering moment came at a meeting with the President's own detail who were very lowkey while outlining what could and could not be written down in the script. "People are watching, people are listening and they are not all our friends." Somewhat different that our usual TV show problems.
But we pulled it off and our Ball was the one the President and the First Lady stayed at the longest, danced with a couple of enlisted personnel and were gloriously received by the audience of the military thrilled with saluting their Commander In Chief for the first time. Tomorrow I'm going to put my camo jacket back on, and hang my Secret Service clearance on a lanyard under my Navy shirt and wear it all around. What an experience for Ruth Adkins Robinson.
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