This has been a week unlike any other for millions of Americans. Those who haven't felt pride of ownership in our democracy for years felt its insistent stirrings, once again. For many, especially African-Americans, the pageantry surrounding Barack Obama's inauguration was a renewed call to patriotism. Many felt obliged to answer in the affirmative for the first time.

All week, from one end of Washington to the other, from crowded subway platforms to jammed boulevards, you could hear strangers across all demographic lines declare: "Yes, we can."

But before wading through miles of vendors hawking cheesy Obama merchandise, we had to march from slavery to Jim Crow, from a Civil War to the broken promises of Reconstruction, from Selma and Montgomery to shots fired in Memphis on a warm April evening. At every step of the way, we've had to overcome our own cynicism and despair about the nation's capacity to live up to its own lofty rhetoric.

On Tuesday afternoon, I stood within a vast sea of my fellow Americans not too far from the Washington Monument. It was as close as we could get. We watched the swearing-in ceremony on giant screens, content with a back-row seat witnessing history. At least we were there. There was a lot of cheering as the faces of familiar political figures slipped across the screen as they took their seats of honor on the Capitol platform.

People's lips on the screen were out of sync with the audio. We heard applause reverberating from the Capitol steps two or three seconds before we knew why. The air was crisp and electric with anticipation for the big moment.

Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter were heartily cheered, as were the Clintons. Former Vice President Dan Quayle and his wife, Marilyn, received far less applause than the Mondales and the Gores, but at least it wasn't the short round of boos that rained down on former President George W. Bush when he was introduced.

Looking a lot like Dr. Strangelove in comedian Jon Stewart's wonderful description of him on "The Daily Show" later that night, the wheelchair-bound Dick Cheney received the most sustained booing on the National Mall that afternoon, but they were boos mixed with laughter at his misfortune. Even I didn't think it was democracy's finest moment.

When Vice President Joe Biden was sworn, displacing Mr. Cheney for good, a woman next to me shouted, "Thank you, Jesus. He's finally out of office." If it wasn't so cold, she probably would have cried with joy.

When Chief Justice John Roberts and Barack Obama took center stage, the indescribable moment had arrived. Justice Roberts scrambling of the oath was an awkward moment heard 'round the world. But there was little doubt that, once the two finally got on the same page, Barack Obama was the 44th president of the United States.

Looking down the long expanse of the National Mall past the Washington Monument to the Capitol at that moment, I confess to feeling joy and pride in my country that isn't customary for me. I didn't want to deal with the awkwardness of crying because it would have meant rubbing frozen tears from my cheeks, so I suppressed it. Still, I was moved beyond words. There was a very large lump in my throat. I almost lost it when I turned around to look at the Lincoln Memorial in the distance.

All around me, lots of folks were not as restrained. Strangers hugged. Families embraced. Children were held aloft. Old folks shook their heads in wonder. There were lots of high-fives and fists pumping the air. The coalition of blacks and whites that elected Barack Obama intermingled freely, united in our astonishment that the moment had finally come. It was worth the discomfort of the biting wind just to be there.

President Obama's speech was sober, but every word resonated with those of us who braved the elements to hear it. There was cheering where appropriate, along with respectful, but attentive, silence.

Later, I learned that commentators on cable news had complained that nothing as memorable as "ask not what your country can do for you" fell from his lips that afternoon. It was a cluelessness that searched for what sounded eloquent at the expense of the eloquence of the moment.

For those of us who were there, it sounded like the rebirth of the American Dream.