How was DC?

It has been many moons since I have blogged again, and I think that is mostly a discipline issue, but also a "no one really cares about what I have to say" issue. I realized this morning that I eagerly wanted to share my reflections on this past weekend in our nation's capitol, and as I drafted a long e-mail to our hosts, I decided that it would also be worth sharing here, where the anonymous throng that is the internet can more easily ignore or disagree with whatever it is that I have to share...

As I procrastinated last night, and this morning, I thought that it might be nice to capture my reflections on our weekend in DC.

I should note first that for reasons that elude me, the joy of visiting a new place is made exponentially better when shared with good friends, and this marks the second such time that we were able to share new-city experiences with two of our favorite people in the world: Nancy and Elee.

Maybe it's the long run-on sentences, which are more easily interrupted in person, and which must be reason why calling or writing is never as satisfying as just "hanging out" — which by the way I think officially counts as doing something, so don't bother asking "What are we going to do today, whats the plan here?"

Maybe it's riding the Metro downtown together, and talking about people who insist that their apocalypse bunkers be built by a true believer, and splitting up just in time to get in to the office "early" (a very persuasive secularist once explained to me how everything is, almost by definition, relative...)

Seeing that shining white monument to the detailed compromise (or inaction) of our nation's chosen interlocutors, and feeling that Susan B. Anthony may have had more courage in her little finger than all the 641 elected office-holders upstairs combined, and marveling at the way this great city arose gradually from a miniature model of a swamp.

Spending too long learning about the composited "history" of the ancient original nations of Greater Columbia, some of them co-opted, some of them conquered, and some simply ignored or omitted. Dancing and singing with the Cherokee, and wrestling again with the identity and meaning of indio.

Ascending those famous steps that lead up to what can only be called a temple—a deeply holy place where men and women connect with an eternal struggle, in this case for the shared soul of our union of independents. Reading aloud but quietly the articulate anguish of a country lawyer forced by the existential threat of war to own up to the absolute moral inconsistency of his 'fathers', who conceived in both liberty and brutality a new nation.

Giving Elee a brief tour of his office by pointing out the carefully curated and tastefully abstract artwork that one might otherwise walk past every day without even noticing.

Cherry-blossom themed cocktails and too good to be true cheese selections at the Hamilton. Also two cheeseburgers (one with a reluctantly negotiated fried egg, and one with an egg accepted on its own terms) and two pasta dishes (one gnocchi, one gnot). But that cheese plate though...

Getting an "early" start (I kid, but don't think that we failed to notice your sacrifice in getting up early and staying up late for us...) and enjoying our hipster chorizo burritos — except for Elee who was forced by his merely acceptable (but lacking in sabor) bagel and lox to liberate the last bit of Nancy's chorizo while she was busy counting how many houses in DC have steps in front.

Braving clueless crowds of tourists ("jerks") and cold April winds to see one or two half blossomed cherry trees, the lateness of whose blooms did not stop everyone from trying to take a picture that they could more easily have downloaded from Google.

Spending more time in the basement of the Jefferson Monument than in the part where you are supposed to take selfies with the statue of Tom, and learning together the fascinating life of a founding father whose excellent penmanship and passion for personal liberty is better known than his struggle for moral integrity. "It's complicated" aptly describes our admiration.

Reading the words of the poet and preacher from Atlanta, and finding in them a new personal favorite, originally composed as part of his acceptance of the Nobel Peace Prize: "I have the audacity to believe that peoples everywhere can have three meals a day for their bodies, education and culture for their minds, and dignity, equality and freedom for their spirits" — and realizing that this carefully composed commentary could serve as a frame for my thoughts on the defining moments of our national history now enshrined and mythologized in that grove of sometimes late blooming trees.

Realizing again that I am not a fan of crowded shopping streets, except in that they occasionally offer a quirky and delicious (in this case imported from New England) respite not easily sustained in a less trafficked district, or a convenient place to find a sweater to repair my irresponsibly optimistic style of packing for a spring adventure. Also, realizing that part of the charm of these eastern states is the way that the vulgar bustle of a commercial drag can so quickly fade into a quiet, beautifully maintained and tree lined street (with lots of stairs in front...)

And finally (and perhaps most importantly), pasando la tiempo with nothing more complicated than simply talking (and talking, and talking, and talking). as the sun reluctantly reluctantly westward, while the duck fat fries and cr ème brûlée arrive and are too quickly disposed of, while the Macarons Ladurée and Goldberg's Bagels tempt and satisfy, and while the slow march of time warns us that each moment is an opportunity too easily missed to enjoy the only investment that produces a return which can somehow at once be spent and reinvested: friendship.