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Author: Anne Cassidy

Flags Flying

Flags Flying

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The inaugural festivities had already begun on Wednesday when I realized I had not hung our little flag. I stopped what I was doing (exercising on the elliptical), grabbed the flag and ran outside to the mailbox with it, where it proudly “flew” for the rest of the day.

It was not alone. Down on the National Mall, a “field of flags,” almost 200,000 of them, stood in for the people who would usually be there, waving their own flags. 

Wednesday was windy, a good day for flying flags. Their rippling made them look alive, the embodiment of all the hope and promise of a new era. 

(The flags seen from space, courtesy Planet Labs Inc.)

Amplified

Amplified

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It’s been a happy coincidence that along with all the inaugural activities and excitement this week I’ve also been listening to the soundtrack of “Hamilton.” Since that Broadway musical has long since moved from smash-hit to iconic status, I feel like one of the last people to the parade … but hey, at least I made it!

To walk, dance and bounce to songs like “Satisfied,” “My Shot” and “You’ll Be Back” is to be reminded of all that this great country has to offer — the creativity, the humor, the jumble of life all packed into two-and-a-half-plus hours. 

But it was the four years ahead that was mostly on my (and most everyone else’s) mind yesterday. There was the call for unity and sacrifice that I hoped Biden would make. There were stirring marches and anthems and invocations. There was President Biden saying, “We have never ever ever ever failed when we have acted together,” to which late-night host Stephen Colbert later joked, “Someone clearly never saw the “Cats” movie.

But, kidding aside (and it feels luxurious to be silly), yesterday’s big happening was a four-Kleenex event for me, unexpectedly moving — and listening to “Hamilton” just amplified it. 

A New Beginning

A New Beginning

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It’s cold in Washington, D.C., today, the kind of cold that befits an inauguration. The chill seriousness of a new beginning. I woke up early, feeling a thrill of excitement. It’s a big day for this tired, battered country. 

Yes, we are divided, more than ever in my lifetime. We are hurting and angry, feeling like the bad news will never end. We are justifiably nervous about laying all this on the shoulders of a 78-year-old man. 

But it’s not just his shoulders that will bear the burden. I hope he will call on all of us to share it with him. 

One speech will not heal the nation — nor will one administration. It took us years to get to this point, and it will take us years to move past it. But at least, today, we can begin.

The Newcomer

The Newcomer

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A walk in Reston yesterday, parking in my new spot, taking the trail that starts at the recycling bins (lovely!) but picks up in attractiveness from there. It’s a great find, this trail, because it begins so close to my house and connects with long favored paved paths. 

I’m still learning about this trail in winter, marveling at just how close the houses are, discovering one of those little free libraries along the way and finding a route with a slight rise in the middle (perfect for upping my heart rate).  

There’s a bounty to seasonal openness — to see far ahead, to spot the flash of a robin in the holly, to feel for a moment that expansiveness winter offers. 

It’s plain this will become a favorite, part of the deck I choose from when deciding which strip of asphalt to amble. I’m always glad to welcome another.

Taking Care of Business

Taking Care of Business

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Today is a work holiday, which means that it’s a Day to Get Things Done. What kind of things? Applying generous electronic gift cards to electronic accounts, for instance. 

I’m famous (or infamous) for letting gift cards go unspent. I imagine many of us are; retailers count on it. But this way, that will be harder to do (if all these pronouns make sense). 

Of course, electronic to-dos aren’t the only ones I have today. There are other, more tangible tasks: cleaning and cooking and decluttering … the endless list. Guess I’d better get to them!

(Detail of a surface that needs dusting …) 

Two for the Road

Two for the Road

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When Mom and I traveled to Europe together many years ago, we bought matching sweaters “just in case” it was chilly. We were immediately glad we did. We donned them the first evening, as we listened to an outdoor concert in a chill June drizzle in London, and wore them often throughout the next six weeks as we toured England, Ireland, France, Germany, Austria and Italy. 

We slipped ponchos over them when it was raining and slept under them on overnight train trips. They also came in handy as robes and cushions. We wore them so much that we never wanted to see them again when we got home. 

They’ve always been sentimental to me, enough that I stuck them in a suitcase and stored them in the attic for years. And that has preserved them, preserved the memories, too. 

20 Years!

20 Years!

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I learned early this morning that today is the 20th anniversary of Wikipedia. That I learned so early is noteworthy, I think, a sign of how much I rely on something I once thought was faintly ridiculous. 

A crowd-sourced encyclopedia? What of the scholar laboring in his or her attic (and let’s face it, it was usually a “his” back in the day)? What of the World Books lining the shelf? 

Through the years I’ve learned a little about the standards of Wikipedia, which, though odd, can sometimes be rigorous. Let’s just say that if you submit a PR-like entry, they will come after you. 

Plus, I’ve become lazy. I spent many years doing research in libraries, and I love the older style of knowledge acquisition. But I’ll admit, it’s pretty amazing to have such a compendium at my fingertips. 

So happy anniversary, Wikipedia! And thank you for your service!

(Photo: Wikipedia! And that’s another reason I love them. I can use their photos without fear of copyright infringement.)

Warm and Light

Warm and Light

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In my quest to be winter-hardy, I’ve discovered the many virtues of merino wool. I have a couple of merino wool blend “base layers,” which in the old days I would have called undershirts, and I’m wearing them now underneath everything: turtlenecks and cardigans and pullovers and sweatshirts. 

The fact that we keep our house temperature in the mid-60s means that I need at least three layers even when inside. When I go for a walk I throw a jacket over the ensemble, cover my ears and hands, and I’m good to go.

The key, I’ve realized, is warmth without weight. It sounds like an advertisement for pricey athleisure wear — in fact, I’m pretty sure it is — but it actually works. I feel warm with three layers on, providing one of them is my base layer.  And the “weightlessness” means I’m not stuffed like a sausage into my clothes. Warm and still able to bend my arms — what more could I want?

A Dog, a Pig and the Music

A Dog, a Pig and the Music

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It’s barely discernible but significant to me that at 5 p.m. there’s now enough light to play with Copper in the backyard. He enjoys it when I bounce on the trampoline, and one of the best ways I can think of to wind down the day is to close the computer, run outside and urge him to come with me so that I can watch him trot down the slight rise in the yard: his sturdy little legs, his mouth open with joy — or perhaps because he wants to bite me. 

Last evening I bounced to the last movement of the Saint-Saëns Organ Symphony, which I came to love after seeing the movie “Babe.” (The final theme of the symphony is the tune that rallies the little pig.) 

How lovely it is to bounce to that grand sound, looking up at the house, the windows dark in the room where I was just writing, so different from moving through the air, the glorious release of it all. And yet knowing that the experience of bouncing will come most alive for me when I try to get it down on the page. And that involves (you guessed it) … heading right back into that dark room.

(Photo: Universal Studios/Photofest and the Hollywood Reporter)

 

The Walking Listener

The Walking Listener

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For the last year I’ve been ambling not always silently and not always with music in my ears but sometimes with words in there too.  Thanks to the gift of Audible, I’ve walked to novels and meditations and nonfiction explications of our current economic woes. 

One day a neighbor stopped me on the street. I took out my ear buds to hear what she was saying. “You must be listening to a book,” she said. 

I wondered how she could tell. Did I have a furrowed brow of concentration? 

She could tell because she does, too. There must be some sort of aura we walking listeners give off that only other walking listeners can see. 

We chatted for a moment before going on our separate ways, at which point I put my ear buds back in and discovered that since I’d forgotten to push pause, the narrator was now several “pages” ahead of where I’d stopped. Just a small problem for the walking listener.