The next three days we were just plain tourists in the Nation’s Capital. We visited Arlington Cemetery, the Vietnam and Korean Memorials, the National Museum of American History, the National Air and Space Museum, the Brain Exhibit at another Smithsonian building, and the Holocaust Museum. At every one of the inside exhibits we were searched. At every exhibit we were one of relatively few tourists. The Mall was nearly empty.
Except for the runners. The well-kept public access areas were a natural course for them. During their lunch hours and after work. Up the stairs of the monuments and along the trails past the memorials. When we were at the Lincoln Memorial the first night, a young man, probably military, ran up and down the stairs four times while we were there. Staying in shape.
Arlington Cemetery is one of my favorite places in Washington DC. I remember going there before John Kennedy’s assassination. Even then the rows and rows of headstones honoring the nation’s dead soldiers was impressive. The changing of the guard was a ceremony I had seen on a number of occasions, and every time, it was a moving experience. “Here lies in honored glory an American soldier, known but to God.” Once Kennedy was buried in the cemetery, and the eternal flame lit, Arlington was more special to me. From across the river, at night, you can see the flame burning. Close up, it’s just a gas flame, but the inscriptions chiseled into the wall nearby are strong memories, for me, of the young Kennedy, who was president when I was in high school. And the stones marking the graves of John Kennedy, his wife Jacqueline and their infant son Patrick are poignant. On this trip, Arlington Cemetery held the same draw for me as it always has. Art and Laura went on the tour with me, but to them it was just a cemetery. I wished I could infuse my memories and impressions into their brains so they could have the same experience.
Art is a Vietnam vet, and I had looked forward to his first visit to the Wall. I can remember my own first visit back in 1988; I was very moved by it as I found the names of three friends from high school, including my best friend’s brother. I was surprised that Art was more interested in the Korean memorial located nearby. That display consists of a dozen or more metal-sculpted figures, greater than life size, depicting a platoon of soldiers. The men are dressed realistically, carrying their gear, as they move across the winter terrain. Art talked to me about each of the figures; he could tell me about the job of each man based on what they were carrying. The Wall, on the other hand, is a display of many thousands of names. Art has told me that he can remember the faces of the men he served with, but not a single name. So the books of names available at the Wall to help people find their friends or loved ones were useless to Art. He walked along the Wall for a few minutes, but saw no names he knew. Art is a doer, a concrete kind of guy, so I should have expected he’d be more responsive to the realism of the Korean memorial. That’s what I get for having expectations.
I’d especially looked forward to our visit to the Holocaust Museum. I had borrowed a VIP pass and made our reservations for 11am. I’d been told there would be long lines. Well, there weren’t. We got there 15 minutes early and they let us in right away. I didn’t even need the pass. The Museum is very impressive, designed to give visitors the experience, as much as possible, of living in that time as a Jew. The artifacts are quite something. For me, though, the Museum didn’t have the power it would have had if I hadn’t seen the movie Schindler’s List several years ago. That film was my first exposure to the horrors of the Holocaust. I remember thinking, when I walked out of the theater, that the film hadn’t been entertaining; it had been a life experience. Probably the most powerful movie I have ever seen. Art’s impression of the Holocaust Museum was that the display was not impartial. He said the story was told from the point of view of the survivors, who had an agenda. Which is not to say he wasn’t interested in the museum. Laura and I went through it together in less than half the time it took Art, who reads every word of every exhibit. As usual, he will remember the details of the exhibit for years. I, on the other hand, will remember only that we were there.
The National Air and Space Museum was full of interesting exhibits. Two things I remember most strongly, though. First, I could never have been an early astronaut, because the space capsules are just too small to avoid the terror of claustrophobia. Second, even after participating in an excellent hands-on exhibit of the aerodynamics of flight, I still don’t understand it. So when I travel, I keep the plane in the air by the force of my will.
By Friday, September 28, we were ready for something other than touring. So we decided on a volkssmarch of historic Georgetown. Art and I have done a number of these events. Most of them are year-round walks. The starting points are published in a national directory, or they can be identified on the Web. The designated starting point for this walk is a deli near the National Zoo subway stop. We picked up a map and directions for the 6.8-mile course. Laura had never been on an event like this, so she was a little skeptical about its entertainment potential, but she’s a good sport.
American volkssmarchers voted this walk one of the top ten year-round events in 2000. It was an interesting blend of park trails, upscale neighborhoods, embassies and commercial areas. One section of the walk was in Rock Creek Park, which is where Chandra Levy, the Washington intern, was supposedly headed when she disappeared back in April. We kept an eye out, just in case. Early in the walk we passed a building with a sign that identified it as “Oyster Bilingual School – Escuela Bilingue Oyster”. Art commented, “Now they’re teaching oysters to speak a second language.” It is still a running joke months after our trip.
Elsewhere in Georgetown, we passed former residences of Ted and John Kennedy, Jacqueline Kennedy, Henry Kissinger, columnist Drew Pearson and H.R. Haldeman, a person of notoriety during the Nixon Watergate era. Many embassies. Churches and cemeteries dating from the early 1800s. We were glad to be walking rather than on a tour bus. We’re much more a part of what we’re seeing when we’re on foot; we’re just observers on a bus.
Then we found a great (Art says “fabulous!”) French bakery. We had all brought a lunch, but we decided quiche and salad sounded better. It was a good break about three miles into the walk.
After lunch we headed for downtown Georgetown by the Potomac River. As we were approaching the river, we observed several dark-skinned, dark-haired men hurriedly loading boxes into an SUV from a van in a parking garage. We all thought it was odd. The men were dressed in business casual attire. The man in charge had white-dyed hair and was wearing a trench coat, on a day when the temperature was nearly 70 degrees. All of the men looked nervous. Thirteen days after September 11, we were being observant as we went about our sightseeing. As we passed the men and rounded the corner, we all commented that what we’d seen looked like suspicious activity. Art said we should probably call the police and report it. But we didn’t. Until nearly two weeks later, when we were back home in Seattle. I couldn’t get the scene out of my mind. So I called the FBI and told them what we’d observed. I apologized for the vagueness of my description. The man told me they’d received many calls with fewer details than I’d provided, that they would enter the information into the national database. So far I haven’t heard of any terrorists acts in Georgetown. Maybe our call prevented one. You never know.
By the time we finished our volkssmarch I was tired. We’d walked seven miles, which wasn’t a long distance compared to the training I’d done for the Avon 3-Day walk, but it had been seven weeks since the event. I was surprised I’d lost my conditioning so fast. Laura was surprised how much she’d enjoyed her first volkssmarch.
We took the subway back to Rockville so Laura could pack up and head home. She had a rugby game scheduled for the next day. It’s about a three-hour drive from Washington DC to Norfolk. We told her we’d be there for the game. We were leaving ourselves for several days in Williamsburg, and the rugby game would be a great break from sightseeing.
So far I haven’t commented on our evening activities. I’d like to say we had dinner in great little places and went to hear fine jazz and symphonies, but the fact is that most nights we went to an AA meeting within five miles of where we were staying. Wherever we travel we look for meetings. They’re a place of consistency for us, and we always feel right at home. The meetings in Rockville were no exception. And the after-meeting talks were interesting. Fifteen miles north of the Pentagon, these people had a heightened awareness of the national situation, and definite opinions.