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Category: DC

The Birds

The Birds

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They swooped, they swerved, they filled the sky with their acrobatics. I first spotted them as I was stopped in traffic on Key Bridge, but could only snap a faraway shot. 

It was later, once I’d reached the Car Barn Building terrace, that I saw the birds again. I’d stopped to look at the river and the towers of Rosslyn across into Virginia (how cool that I leave my state for class) — and there they were, circling and swirling, making their presence known. 

Were they up to no good? It was hard to tell at the time. But when I looked at the (top) photo later … well,  you be the judge …

Once More to Metro

Once More to Metro

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Yesterday I went to D.C. via Metro, a trip I used to make most mornings but which I had not made since March 12, 2020.  That’s 15 months … a fact that even now I can’t quite absorb.

The parking garage was almost deserted at 2:30 p.m., likewise the platform and the train itself. I did quickly realize, however, that one of the other two souls on my car seemed to be psychotic, so at the first stop I moved to the next car.  That’s my Metro! 

Otherwise, though, the old system was gussied up and spit-polished, with new announcement boards and shelters and someone cleaning the elevator in the middle of the afternoon. 

I rode three lines, the Orange, Red and Silver. I read the newspaper, as I used to do, and noticed the changing scenery out the window. 

It was almost like old times … except there were almost no people riding with me. 

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.

Assault on the Capitol

Assault on the Capitol

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For 10 years I worked less than half a mile from the U.S. Capitol. On my lunch hour, I often walked around the place. I could have been pulling my hair out over page proofs, but as soon as I left my office on First Street and rounded the corner onto New Jersey Avenue, a calmness would descend upon me. 

It was partly the walking itself, tonic and narcotic that it always is. But it was also the fact that I, a kid from Kentucky, could spend 30 minutes strolling around such an august building and grounds. What people from all over the world traveled to see, I could include in a quick desk break. 

I was thinking of these walks yesterday when an angry mob stormed the Capitol and interrupted the people’s business. Like most Americans I watched with a lump in my throat and a sickness in my soul. That our dear country, represented by that building, should be so defiled and shamed! 

While knowing the Capitol may have made me sadder in the short-run, it’s brought some comfort as the hours have passed. I’ve imagined the route often since yesterday: the tall, labeled trees, the broad plaza on the east side, the marble steps, the fine magnolias. 

I walked, therefore I knew, and I knew, therefore I loved. That love is sustaining me now. 

Blossoms Remembered

Blossoms Remembered

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It’s been years since I’ve missed seeing D.C.’s famous cherry blossoms. It’s one of my own personal rites of spring — walking beneath the massed pink flowers, petals falling gently on our heads, seeing the city transformed.

There are always crowds: picnickers, photographers, little kids who stray too close to the Tidal Basin. Many people dress up for the occasion, and it’s a favorite for engagement shoots. But the clamor and craziness of it is part of the experience, as are all the times I’ve gone before with my family and with my parents years ago. Those earlier visits are with me each new year when I brave the crowds to see the blossoms again.

This year there are no tourists. Roads are blocked off discouraging congregation. Those who venture down are masked and gloved. They’re maintaining social distance.  I will not be one of them.

But I can imagine what it’s like, can take a virtual walk beneath the trees.

A Different Day

A Different Day

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A week ago today I awoke in a tiny house in the Blue Ridge Mountains. On my to-do list: write, read, and savor the landscape. Not bad as to-do lists go.

Today’s list is looking a lot more businesslike: Editing articles, writing headlines, having meetings. It’s still not bad as to-do lists go, but it’s significantly less creative than last week’s occupations.

But how much depends on what we make of it? I write from my fifth-floor window seat (loosely construed, this term “window seat” — all it means is that my chair is pulled up close to the window) and the sun glints off the curved corner of the building next door. Leaves fly in the brisk wind, and they are gleaming too, as another day, a different day, begins.

Train Spotting

Train Spotting

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The windows of my new office overlook the main north-south railroad line in the eastern United States. So as I conduct interviews and write articles, I keep one eye peeled for the sights and sounds of a passing freight or passenger train.

Whether it’s the Virginia Railway Express commuter line (one just zoomed by!), the quicksilver flash of an Amtrak engine heading up the Northeast Corridor, or one of the lumbering freights that seem to go on forever, I find this new pastime more than a little distracting.

Usually, the work of the day creates a vortex on the other side of the glass, and there could be a circus train chugging by and I wouldn’t have time to ogle it. But early or late, when my eyes are prone to wander … do I ever have a lot to see!

A Night at the Office

A Night at the Office

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It was a late day at the office. Which didn’t mean I was there until the wee hours, only an hour and a half later than usual, just long enough to label, transfer and prune some MP3 files that had been filling up my voice recorder.

My attention had been riveted by the screen for a couple hours, that and my inner ear, where voices from interviews I conducted months ago replayed through an earphone. It’s a strange thing, listening to voices heard only once and trying to figure out who they are. It was an interior exercise, a journey into memory, aided by last year’s day planner and typed notes.

But back to the matter at hand, which was the long day, the tedious task, and then, finally, completion. I clicked off my computer, packed up my things — and only when I stood up to grab my coat did I look out the window.

And there, spread out before me, was a magical sight. Offices that are drab brown and inscrutable in daylight were all lit up at night. What was normally invisible was suddenly seen. I marveled at the lights and the reflections. I marveled also at the comfort they brought. And that’s when it occurred to me, something I know but too often forget — that we’re never alone in our toil. Even when we think we are, there are countless others who are close by, working along beside us.

World Series Champs!

World Series Champs!

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Washington, D.C., is waking up late today, pushing snooze at least twice and downing an extra cup of coffee. But as one of the bleary-eyed ones, I can say … it was totally worth it. It was worth it to see the Washington Nationals beat the Houston Astros to win the World Series, an improbable, come-from-behind victory like so many of the others the Nats have achieved this season.

But this victory holds no future trial.  The team has gone from a 19-31 record in May to World Series champs in October. They have nothing left to prove.  But as the oldest team in the league and the come-from-behind specialists, they have something to teach us about determination, drive and never saying never.

What they’ve achieved most of all, though, is to bring us a hometown pride that’s hard to come by in the Nation’s Capital. We’re no longer the “Swamp,” the seat of dysfunctional government. We’re the home of a team with loyal supporters (my neighbors have been season ticket holders since 2005) and a fan base that transcends partisan divides.

Events like this help people feel like they belong. And more than anything else, it’s the belonging I celebrate today. 

Lights, Camera?

Lights, Camera?

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Here in Crystal City, things are on the move. Old buildings are coming down and new ones are going up as we shed our dowdy D.C. image in favor of a hip new HQ2 vibe. Yes, it’s still dear old CC, where men in dark suits dash quickly into idling SUVs. But there’s a new energy here, a flash of the creative class that is to come.

I promised myself I would chronicle these changes in my own particular and unscientific way. And one of the shifts I’ve noticed in my own building is that stairwells now have automatic lights that go off when no one’s around.

Since I exercise by walking up and down the stairs, this has come under some personal scrutiny. I begin my walk in the semi-darkness, and only as I emerge onto each landing do the lights come on. Though this makes me feel just a tad important — these lights are coming on just for me! — it also makes me feel just a tad freaked out.

I remember the phrase, “Lights, camera, action!” and wonder … if new lights are here, can new cameras be far behind?