July, Oh My....

 

    Some tough living going on  under those meandering clouds all over 'this fair land'' these days. Escape is mandatory any way possible, which sometimes is not possible.  Fireworks for the 4th (a mixed sentiment for true patriots who respect the contradictions  built into the so-called American way)  -  just a passing blip, given the noise associated with political protests and ongoing deliberations.

    So it might seem a wee bit off-key to brag about a trip to 'never neverland' aboard an actual train, a short 11 hour span, traveling from 2 a.m.in Cleveland Ohio to 1:30 pm. in Washington DC. Not really a long ride, given the size of the country but one so out of the ordinary it requires description in detail. Plus the fact that I had not had the luxury of a bed aboard in many decades, too many to count. It must have been when I was a camper chugging off to New England in summertime, holding for dear life into a high-up berth in a sleeping car stacked to the beam with individual mattresses and a hundred others or so it seemed, in the same car.. 

 Because  this time I originally bought a coach ticket ($80) and then fell under the spell of extravagance and  changed to roomette status.Whoa, what a change. Private quarters, so-called comfortable beds- in fact, hard and narrow. Privacy of sorts - the two restrooms in the car, and likely the shower room - had no locks from the inside but a mechanism whereby the red light (occupied) showed whenever a person closed the door. Not a bad way to prevent interlopers and allow 'authorities' access when necessary.

     Protocols were mostly unspoken and unwritten.. Food and a single alcoholic drink was on the house but only if  a passenger was seated in the dining car.  He/she had to pay in the cafe. Dining was a good deal - three meals, white tablecloths, solid menu choices - but  where you sat was under the supervision of the hostess. In my case, a tired unsmiling woman who 'unseated' me when I took a seat alone at a table,; she pointedly directed me to the empty seat in a table holding three others that  needed a fourth body.. No arguing with that  lady. Breakfast opened at 6:30 am. - likely in observance of a crew's schedule buy also maybe figuring in  what key stops mattered along the way. There were many stops between the Big Cities - and some casual ones, when pet owners could take their four footers to a platform "to do their business.'  All traffic outside halted until the train moved on...

At one point we slowed (then already a bit behind schedule) owing to a freight train ahead on the same track.  This was the old/new Amtrak - making do out of necessity. Where was the parallel track one might normally expect . Ah, but the blanket provided was cozy enough, the close quarters something of a designer's dream: the sink opened by pulling down a handle. Clean soap and wash cloths were at hand.

The 'dedicated'  porter was friendly ("I'm Carlos"), noise was minimal. Colorful scenes of various kinds streamed by outside the window. My flat bed  got turned into a seat when I ambled off for breakfast. And when tripping to the cafe car late morning for a constitutional I literally tripped - on an unexpectedly large step  in my path. I landed - somehow - on  the floor on my back,  the back of my head hitting the ground. A uniformed official was around and saw me in time to show immediate professional concern. And possibily the fear of a lawsuit coming their way.  He would stay while I recouped my dignity, assured him that I was  ok.My head hurt but there was no wound and I had managed to get myself off the floor onto a seat.  No lesson learned other than the fact that walking on a moving train takes practice and I had little to none.

 I continued on to my constitutional - a gin and tonic to celebrate the occasion of an actual overnight ride (albeit only a few hours sleep) aboard the impressive vessel called, impressively enough, the Floridian since it would pass through my home town - Washington DC - on its way to Miami many hours (days?) away. And a tonic balm to ease my way into the frantic nature of city life after spending a week in a solidly pacific mostly traffic-free  lakeside retreat resort known for education, entertainment and whatever-pleasure-you-  seek under heaven's gate. In short, a sane lifestyle. The cafe car master must have felt the importance of my salute to sanity by an unprompted  of his own out of the blue: He would be taking his grandchild on a trip; he asked her where she wanted to go  and she said Paris. So Paris it would be. On that, he topped up my drink with a cut up piece of lime. The end of his stint I gathered. I found my way back to the roomette and watched the iron engine make its careful way into the bustling precincts of Washington's Union Station.

June in Bloom

  Always a pleasure to see bright colors in a vast green space (slight exaggeration of the adjectives here) and this year is/was no exception. My gardening prowess is limited, as is my vocabulary about such matters,  so I  often simply gamble. First, however, put the brightest colored geraniums in hanging pots to decorate the rear facade of the house. Next, snap up a bevy of flower bulbs early enough so there is bound to be a surprise later in the unfolding shapes and shades of whatever is supposed to spring up in spring.

 Glory  begins when rain comess along  to feed the plants buried deeply (or however) in the soil.    Not a very professional approach but spontaneity certainly does offer the satisfaction of thinking such a wacky scheme  can work.

    That way, too, I can't be disappointed if nothing happens: my own fault, my handicap...though I usually find nature cooperating as long as I tend to this makeshift garden in a loving way.

Aha! Hope has happened. Spring is turning into Summer. Solstice is 'a cumin' in on a heavy blanket of heat, and my humble planter has blossomed with three different colors.  As if to show off the glories of the season.

MAYbe Better Weather

 

        

       May is New York's spring. By contrast, April does better in Washington DC than it does with May, which is when early bloom petals are dropping, or have dropped, creating a messy carpet of brown on the ground. The rest of DC flowering plants cry for rain which is always promised but problematic in delivery. Still 70 degrees and relatively low humidity is a gift, as is the green-greener hue to trees and plants that make DC officially 'The City of Trees."

    Whatever and whenever, it is an annual blessing to be able to watch the renewal of life (and cringe at the accompanying onslaught of pollen), to have the illusion of country in a traffic-bound city. All of which makes the place come to life, literally and figuratively: the final living opening of  theater productions before summer's lull. And to recognize resources that are available year-round, such as the main public library that seems to have turned itself into an urban oasis in every way. Scheduled free events (mostly), in competition with the museums on the nearby Mall.

 Praise be to all before summer kicks in with relentless heat and hungry mosquitoes.....

        

    Except that 'residents' of our fabled Congressional Cemetery no longer can witness the changes, since they are all sleeping soundly (one presumes) in the ground. Unlike what its name suggests, the historic35-acre landscape in far Southeast DC has nothing to do with Congress - merely a  honorary title linked to some of its early often fabled inhabitants. It began as a temporary receiving space (as an official brochure describes it) for presidents and cabinet members in a day when methods of preserving bodies has not yet been perfected. It is now a permanent home for dozens of individuals of varying degrees of fame and even notoriety. And it offers solace to many living people who have bought plots in advance of their demise, and who might now proudly sport a tee shirt with the words 'future resident' of the CC.

Many years ago, the so-called green burial plots were novel and the cemetery didn't miss a beat in selling wee plots for just such people who didn't want to leave the world engulfed in chemicals and solid noncompostable containers.   Hence, the name that promises quick removal to the ground in a wicker basket along with the privilege of saying goodbye with a program or reception in and around the modest chapel on the grounds. Welcome to a sample  spot below, marked by simple stones, overseen in the photo by a friend of the still living owner. There are some notable neighbors - not far away is the very grand final resting place of the founder of the Marine Band,  John Philip Sousa born on Capitol Hill on November 1806. An elaborate ceremony commemorating the man on that date every year includes includes a panoply of talented Marine Band members.

   Neighbors and strangers are invited to enjoy the grounds  of this outdoor sanctuary on various occasions. The latest such public event is a half-mile  self-guided 'Tree Walk Through History among species that have witnessed much of the  past life in American history. Called the 'Arboretum Walking Tour' the project intends to be an educational experience and what the non-profit calls "an evolving biodiverse community of trees.'  Some 25 trees are being marked with both common and scientific names open for viewing year-round.

April reigns/rains on...

 Just thinking, while  the weather changes lives -  dramatically from day to day:

        So much of what happens in DC is out of sight and not necessarily for evasive reasons. There is a commonsense mission in playing hard-to-get, an alluring and fascinating motive. It's not necessarily   the current trend of belonging to 'private clubs' for members onlhy (ah, the privilege of being able to afford such a thing). It's a snobbery (ouch, not really the right word) of another kind. The ability to seek out and take advantage of special places that don't really need advertising, to be an insider of sorts in the search for special and unusual places open to the public if the public has smarts enough to know about them. Word-of-mouth messaging, you might say.

    One such place is a private home on a certain street in the Northeast not far from H St. where the owner hosts dinners that he creates for anyone informed of the experience and has the will to spend a goodly penny ((say upward of $200 or so) and the desire to have a communal experience, likely with strangers unless a certain generous someone wants to host a party.. To be surprised about what is contained in each of the 7 or so courses; to  welcome entertainment throughout from the owner/chef himself. And the only way to reserve is through Instagram  (@reikinadc)or by clicking on experiencereikina@gmail.com  or, as I discovered on a whim, ringing the bell on a certain ground level door heralded by a blue light (turned on only at night). The word is passed along by someone who has been there, who can remember the address and who is in no way paid to do so. That host/owner/chef has sterling credentials (hot spots in Houston and on a Michelin starred DC restaurant). The entrepreneur in this case is Thomas Stacy ("chef & owner" reads his card).

 Here is a sample notice sent to two couples who reserved seats in mid-March, along with 'suggested donation,' cash preferred.

    I had been tipped off by a friend who reported on her evening (7 to 10:30 p.m.) praising the quality of the food. He greeted me, a stranger, warmly when I rang the bell, interrupting some sort of musical session happening next to the communal table (for 8 or 10 ) assume).  Sure, he would call back he told me, though never had. Maybe the word is out in enough circles so that he doesn't need or want to circulate more information. He welcomes cash above all, and surely is not wanting to fuss about licensing or taxes.

    Another  successful low-key operation is a small bar with snacks and colorful cocktails  hidden without any notice down an alley off of H St. NE near the Atlas Theater complex. Called Providencia (take the name literally as the providence of pleasure, the place is public and open only  Tuesday to Saturday evenings five days a week, from 5 pm to midnight. barprovidenciadc.com will tell you more, as will a positive article about the place in the Washington Post on March 21 this year. 

It is intended to  be a late night club of sorts for anyone wanting an offbeat thrill - a club without membership requirements or barriers at the entrance.  What was once a flower shop (Not the Little Shop of Horrors at all) has become a business owned and operated by a lively group of young professionals using their Latin and Asian heritages to supply just a small but enticing menu to accompany the most innovative drinks around. For those already familiar with the Cambodian-Taiwanese restaurant Maketto, the name of Erik Bruner-Yang will be familiar. Prices range from $4 to $24 for food items and $9 to $18 for inventive cocktails. I had a lilac concoction topped by popcorn...

March On

     

Take hope when you can - when you can see tulips and other brave floral shoots pushing upwards against the tide of change. Pre-spring signs like these give hope but certainly not without some reservations.  We are stuck in a middle world.  

Look for signs of eccentricity among your fellow travelers. Individuality prevailing over the norm. Speaking out as opposed to  hiding out. With fair weather it's possible to take some pleasure in the public life of strangers. The sight of a tall thin man roughly dressed and seemingly unconcerned: worn black jeans low on his hips - not his waist -  while he strolls along a downtown street. How does he maneuver with this attire?  He has underwear that may have duct tape hidden in the side?  What is the purpose of the pose? Likely it is to provoke, like tulips do on a wet cold day.

Washington DC isn't often thought to be a place of surprises in the public sphere: But surely  - like New York City  and especially Manhattan - there are surprises galore if you look around often enough. Mostly from the ground rather than from a car.

And so today, the 19th, looking at spring's official beginning on the 20th, I was watching out and ready to take any opportunity to interact with strangers. No better place than a Metro car wherre I was seated alone in a two-seat place and soon joined by a woman carrying what appeared to be a fresh bunch of roses. Each one of them so perfect; all different colors. I thought they might be fake. But seeing my interest, she passed them my way - was she even offering me to take them, I wondered at first. I leaned down to have a smell, and then carefully feel them. They seemed unreal. "Mother doesn't know what to do with them," I think I heard her say - supposing these were a gift. They were properly wrapped in plastic, and I never thought I would be the recipient and so thanked her for letting me have a sniff. We shared that moment: that was enough. Not a great word exchange but an understanding of some kind. It was mid-afternoon but the car was crowded. Maybe this was the famous federal afternoon shift for workers who come in early and so leave around 2 or 3. Traffic patterns have changed under the new regime; no telling the sense of change in people's minds and habits because of the great DOGE deluge.

Onward, to whatever may happen but stay in touch...

And this word looking forward: The Folger Library has decided to go all-out for a renewed Shakespeaare Birthday celebration for the first time in years, during which renovation curtailed most public events  No one is certain of his exact birth date so it made sense for this august scholarly institution to schedule it on a Saturday, April 19 ane turn it into a grand free family affairs (registration required), with the new director taking the podium to pronounce on the familiar subject of the relevance of the Grand Old Man in today's world.

 

February Fog

 

Politics makes and breaks, especially in the fraught days of a new and bewildering government scene.

So there may be little to do but stand watch and prepare to move, whenever or however.

Meanwhile, keep an eye on good omens, weather, judges.

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As always, I try a bit of underground resistance by currying favor whenever I can with strangers, and especially so with strangers on the street or in stores - those  not too strung out their phones or URL codes that have become annoyingly ubiquitous. Seek 'em out where they are to create an instant community of two or three.   Spontaneity will help save us all sometimes. Hence, on my way home from the local Trader Joe store, I stop two uniformed guys with shovels outside the luxury apartment building called the Residences on Capitol Hill . I want to know what is the substance they are about to put down on the sidewalk, in preparation for a major snow fall likely to happen that night. Is the pink stuff - looks like candy fluff - really ok for animals with sensitive feet?  The chemicals undoubtedly are strong. One of the two goes immediately to the trash can nearby to show me the cover of a big plastic bag that contained the 'poison,' known as ice melt. (So pedestrians won't sue the rental company should anyone get injured in a fall???!!) I see the words pet friendly, or pet safe - what is invariably how the manufacturer covers its bets. I learn from the man in charge that there are basically three levels of such protective commercial covering, dependent on price. The ultimate product is very expensive, he indicates; his team has chosen the middle ground.

My message is something of a cliche - since normally who would argue against strangers meeting up and exchanging civil words. 

Right - and at home I've also bought similar stuff from my local hardware store, the only difference being that it is an off white color. So what is its composition and how much should I apply? SUch are the mysteries of everyday life. It turns out (after a long night of falling snow) the medicine only works under certain situations, dependent on temperatures. We guess out way through this life and these times..

My here message is something of a cliche - since normally who would argue against strangers meeting up and exchanging civil words.  But these are not normal times, to judge by public harangues. Why should Apple feel it necessary to add cautionary, even pleading, words automatically  up front whenever a person is dialing/seeking help on Apple Support. The brief but insistent phrase asks a caller to be kind to the person on the other line - a professional paid by the company to help the caller. It implies the company has no faith their customers will be civil - and so a common sense reminder is necessary.

"Hmm, that must be new," said the in-store Apple employe when I quizzed her shortly afterwards about the practice.  So, we have to conclude, manners are in short supply and rudeness reigns.

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"Only connect"  - politely. Which - to continue the theme - is primarily what  Travellers Aid volunteers do when strangers seek their help to navigate what is likely an entirely new and changing scene. Such goodwill messengers are there to invite passersby to use volunteers knowledge of airport layout and services. For many of the public it is a big learning experience to know about the Sunflower program that helps identify passengers with 'special needs,' usually accompanied by someone; that over 1300 lanyards (showing a sunflower sysmbol visible to all) were passed out in 2024. The program still is new and growing.

As for the volunteers themselves, they are as varied on airplane passengers: a 94-year-old woman only recently considered retiring from the job she has had since 2015. Another is a retired eye doctor wanting to be out among people - mindful that his professional background is not really applicable. There are military veterans, single adults wanting company  and liking helping others. Their training is intense, given that many such positions are in sensitive secure areas of the building. True to form, some potential dramas can occur. Such as the time a young new to the job volunteer was confronted from behind her stand (where buttons exist for emergency help in case of need) by a man's seemingly off the wall question:"Where can I turn myself in?"  Was he meaning to report some illegal substance in his carryon or possibly some seemingly more practical question, such as where might he report mistakenly holding another person's property? Ah, the volunteer took no chances and  immediately called on airport police to take care of the man. They came within minutes...

And some peculiar lost possessions might get left behind by people - boxing gloves, for instance - that eventually find their owners when a volunteer knows where such missing objects are housed in the vast territory an airport covers.

--Intermission of sorts  ----------------------------------------A- Preview of coming attractions.....

A garden of delight is promised soon, when the annual camellia show takes place in my yard.

And a reminder that  this blog exists  for two reasons:

    One is to highlight what some people might call lesser attractions to be found in the greater Washington area: programs, exhibits, even behaviors that are unusual and usually welcoming. Just recently while standing on a Metro platform during a three-day interruption of normal service, I was trying to figure out what train I needed to take to a station I seldom visit. Seeing my confusion, a young man nearby asked if he could help and then asked how long  had I been visiting the city.  A startling statement for someone who has lived here nearly 50 years....though, of course, you can always teach an old dog new tricks. I followed up his kindness by offering help to a couple sitting near me on  the next train I took; they seemed bewildered by the system, and suitcases gave me the idea they were real visitors. Smiles ensued...

                                                                A second mission  : share personal experiences living in both rural and urban places  (D.C. and Montana) when it would seem the words rural and urban are out of date and apply only subjectively.  'Urbanities' has a long reach these days.

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   A reminder: What's old is always new or at least reinvented   again, as a visit to the latest exhibit at the handsome and imposing Folger Shakespeare Library proves. In spades, one could say - if spades include lace ruffs, diamonds, garters and  such ilk. "How to be a Power Player: Tudor Edition" runs through July 22 on Capitol Hill. The address is clue to the exhibit's  theme - one that mirrors the power plays and status games taking place there and down the hill on Pennsylvania Avenue today. (If we didn't really install a new monarch, we have elected someone who acts like a king with courtiers all around.)

    A pity on us all, one might say. But the Folger says it better with a bountiful display of old manuscripts and letters, pithy explanatory material brought together in a top-notch very readable and beautiful design. Imagine being able to glimpse at real materials (letters, etc.) from the 15th and 16th centuries. Technically, we are talking 1485 and 1603 during the reigns of three generations of monarchs in England and Wales - including, of course, that of the famously famous  Queen Elizabeth 1.

    Yes, it's a complicated history, and fascination with it only grows as you circle the display cases taking in the complex rules of deportment, behavior and dress from birth to death. The latter matter was also informed by custom and status above all. The rules are many and fulfillment of them required a heavy investment of time and money. There is so much material to be taken in  by a visitor, accompanied by stunning photos and artifacts It's difficult to understand how people lived under such strict codes but the staff seems to have assembled an entire college history  course  on the early modern world within a few walls.

  So much, too, to grasp in our understanding of how the politics of that time is reflected in current jostling for power, albeit under slightly different rules. (The White House today, we can assume, does not follow the marvelously complex patterns for  folding linen table napkins that the Tudors inherited largely from Italy. We don't seem to go overboard impressing foreign visitors with our cuisine - not beyond what is normal for a formal meal in contemporary times. A round white blurb on the front of  the exhibition's  name tells all: 'Learn How To Expand Your Brand, Navigate Scandal, Dominate the Power Lunch, Increase Your Charisma  And More!'

    Need we say more before wishing much of the political hustle tustle of modern life were not so exhausting, though  in quite different ways...

    And this:

        

An Inside the Season conversation for Whose Democracy?

Saturday, March 1, 11am | Free, registration required

From celebrations of identity to shows of protest, parades have been central to our culture. With Mardi Gras on the horizon, the Folger considers how pageantry has led to civic participation and provided shows of power.

Join us for a drop-in crafting session from 11am-1pm to make your own paper plate tambourine and learn more about how parades are represented in the Folger collection with a pop-up collection viewing of items not usually on display at 11:30am and 12:30pm.

All ages welcome!

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SEIZE THE DAY AND THE MONTH

 

January 2025  - a new year, new possibilities whatever is your outlook on  national and world events. Father (why not Mother?) Time always marching (to the tune of different drummers).