(Please do not make this political. It’s just one of my favorite memories)

Today – once again – the United States of America held an inaugural ceremony for the next president.

I intended to watch, but time got away from me.

I am a political junkie. Not very astute — but what I lack in brains I make up for it with passion, enthusiasm and interest.

Thinking about today’s inauguration ceremony in Washington, D.C reminded me of where I was on this day in 2009 – some 16 years ago.

And my memories are precious to me, especially since so many of them have been wiped clean by years of frequent ECT (Electro Convulsive Treatment) procedures, but I do vividly remember personally attending an inauguration in our nation’s capital.

The wind was bitterly cold, and the crowds were overwhelming, but I could not help feeling excited by what was happening all around me.

I did not vote for President Barack Obama. I voted for McCain. I was a registered Republican.

So why was I there? Why pay for an expensive hotel room and almost get squashed by a massive crowd of enthusiastic Democrats?

For reasons I still do not understand, I had been invited to attend a reception for the new president at the New Zealand embassy on the eve of the next day’s inauguration ceremonies. I’m not making that up.

I’ve never even been to New Zealand.

What are the odds of a Biddeford kid – a Republican, no less – getting invited to a reception for Barack Obama on the eve of his inauguration? I’ll bet that there are not many people who can say that.

I think it’s because one of Maine’s best-known and respected attorneys knew I was a political junkie and wanted to show me some appreciation, especially since we both had family connections to the town of Rumford.

At that time, I was working for one of Maine’s premier political consulting firms, Barton & Gingold, a company that was sold almost a decade ago.

We were working with several other firms on a major project in northern Maine. The law firm of Preti Flaherty was the lead legal firm on that project. Severin Belliveau was a partner at Preti Flaherty, (formerly Preti, Flaherty, Beliveau and Pachios).

In a 2013 article for Down East Magazine, Edgar Allen Beem described Severin Beliveau as “Maine’s most powerful lobbyist.”

Beem wrote: “Severin Beliveau is a familiar figure in Maine’s corridors of power, an affable gentleman always dressed just a little better than everyone else in expensive grey suits, tassel loafers, and brightly colored ties. When it comes to pressing the flesh and twisting arms, Beliveau has few equals.”

After just a few weeks of working on the project, I mentioned to Severin that I attended high school for two years in Rumford and knew his niece, Margaret Beliveau (an exceptional student).

“I knew there was something I liked about you,” Severin grinned.

Because Severin was once chair of the Maine Democratic Party and was connected to just about everybody in Maine, odds are it was him who put me on the guest list for the embassy reception.

Apparently, it is a tradition for foreign embassies (especially those located on “Embassy Row”) to host a reception for the incoming president.

It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever been a part of.

I obviously asked Laura if she wanted to go with me. “No,” she replied. “But you should go. This is right up your alley.”

I bought a new suit, and there I was — feeling incredibly intimidated at the New Zealand Embassy on a cold January night.

Mr. Obama did not make it to the New Zealand embassy that night. I can only assume he had some other, more pressing engagements.

Still, it was pretty cool to be there even though I knew no one at the event.

I could have easily gone home that night or the next morning. The news was all a flutter about the expected massive crowds that would be attending the inauguration of America’s first Black president.

“This is historic,” I told myself. “To hell with it, I will brace the bitter cold and the massive crowds.”

They say that discretion is the better part of valor, but don’t tell that to an excited political junkie from Biddeford.

Honestly, the crowds were too thick. I could not get close enough to see what was happening, but it was still an exhilarating experience. I was right there when history was being made.

It was very cold, but there was a warmth that permeated from the crowd. I was completely surrounded by people who were basking in this moment, full of optimism about the ‘hope and change’ that was beckoning.

I was in a very distinct minority that morning on the subway headed toward the Capitol Building. Quite suddenly, I got a taste of what it’s like to be surrounded by people who didn’t look like me.

But it didn’t matter. There was no racial tension. Everyone, it seemed, was smiling; joyous, optimistic and filled with hope.

Suddenly, one lady on the train began singing: “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine . . .”

Within seconds, all of the other passengers (including me) joined while laughing. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever been a part of.

So today, many years later, when I kicked myself for missing the inauguration as it was happening. I suddenly felt compelled to sing.

This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.

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