When I arrive, Freeland Hall at the South end of Whidbey Island, which lies a short ferry ride from downtown Seattle, is already packed. It is a big Northwestern wooden hall, one huge room with some satellite spaces. People are spilling out of doors, and their happy sound is shaped into ethereal waves of laughter by the mist that hangs in the trees of deep green surrounding the building. The light is diffused, its nimbus hangs in the air with the fog. The heat of many bodies welcomes me like a cub to the den, as I enter. Even before the faces come into focus, the wild array of clothes registers. If formal- a man in a Fraser plaid dinner jacket – the intent is clearly ironic, if relaxed, whimsical. The Eagles are on offer, and at the back of the stage, while their music drives the dancing, a projection of the inauguration plays, filling a wall, without sound. Periodically, like a ripple in a pond disturbed, hands fly up and cheering begins. It is clear everyone has already seen today’s events, and the cheers are for favorite moments, as they scroll across the giant screen. […]