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Any trip up the East Coast would not be complete without a visit to our nation’s capital, Washington DC. It was 21 years ago when we first visited with our middle school aged daughters Amy and Polly. As we started this visit, our minds were filled with visions of their reactions on our earlier trip. They marveled at the Metro, the rotundas of the Capitol, the Washington Monument, the homeless people sleeping on park benches, the furniture of the White House and the mummies at the Smithsonian. Our favorite was the image the girls standing over a heating exhaust vent as their skirts billowed around them and they laughed hilariously.

Well, things have changed. The famed Metro is now over 30 years old and not quite so gleaming. The rotundas of the Capitol are visited only by those with a ticket that sell out by ten in the morning. The homeless have been mysteriously moved off the mall to some unknown locations, the White House is inaccessible behind layers of fences and barricades and there are security officers everywhere. One does not enter a building without emptying ones pockets and opening ones purse.
Still, our nation’s capital is an exciting place to visit with so much to see. We allotted 10 days for our stay and found an RV resort, Duncan Family Campground in Lothian Maryland, about 15 miles from the Metro station and 30 miles from the Mall. Because land is so expensive, there are few RV parks available and we felt lucky to find a place to park our home.

Another noticeable difference of this visit besides the joy of watching our daughters marvel at the Constitution and the Aerospace Space Museum was our ability to walk the distances between the many attractions. Our knees are not 39 years old now, and it only took one day to realize that trolley tickets were a medical necessity. We sprang for a two day plan for over $110 but our bodies gave thanks each night as we had only to hop off the trolley at any one of the 14 stops and then catch another as they passed every 20 minutes.

Negotiating the Metro was, however, a significantly greater challenge. You would think that any system with only four colors, red, blue, yellow and green would be fairly simple. Wrong. First of all, you have to drive to the Metro and we found the 500+ car parking ramp full. Well, not really. There were over 100 spaces unoccupied but they can only be used after 10 am. This misguided policy was justified as a way to save a few spots for “late arrivers” like us. Only we were there at 9 am and told by a very large parking guard that we had to keep moving. “Yah can’t stop; yur wheels better be moving or yah get a ticket!” Driving round and round for an hour in a strange parking ramp was quite an experience.

Then there is the issue of buying a ticket. You put bills in these giant blue machines at the entrance of each station. They spit out a ticket based on how much you invest and which of the 20 buttons you push. There are Quick Passes, Smart Passes, Transfer Passes and Patron Passes just to name a few. We put in $10 and prayed we would get a ticket that would work. You then go to a turnstile, one with a green arrow, put the ticket in stripe side up and it pops up, deducting the fare based on where you are in the system. That actually happens when you get off, but if you lose your ticket between entrance and exit you are in big trouble. The thought of spending the rest of your life in a cement tube 40 feet below our nation’s Capitol is mind-boggling. Each person needs their own ticket, a fact that we learned after being yelled at by a Metro employee sent who us back to the big blue ticket monster. Then one stands on the station deck waiting for the train to arrive; us with fear and apprehension painted on our faces. You are surrounded by fellow commuters of all sizes and shapes but with one thing in common. They all have either an I- pod or cell phone plugged into their ear and an expression on their face that shouts out, “Damn tourists, don’t you dare die near me, as I don’t want to have to step over your body.” A placard above in the car warns not to become an “Escalump (esk-ca-lump) n. a person who becomes a human speed bump by suddenly stopping at the top or bottom of a Metro escalator.

Then there is the issue of which stop to get off at. The cracking speaker blares out information before each stop, all of which sounds exactly the same and was roughly equivalent to “Uaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, nuxt statttion, Graaaaaaaant Cirqell, Pleaaaaaaaaas standannnn baccccck to alouuuuw peoplee to boarrrrrrrrrd”. Using the method of counting how many fellow travelers get off at each stop, and timing our exit based on popularity, was soon determined to be unwise as we missed the Mall by about two stops. As we pulled out the Metro Map and our eyes scanned the colored stripes printed on the inside of the coach, we again got stares that shouted “Damn Tourists”.

But eventually we sort of mastered the system, except to find that we needed a different ticket to get our car out of the parking ramp than the one used for the Metro. The ticket cost $10 of which $5 is taken out upon purchase. This little fact was determined on our second exit when the machine refused to let us leave with 25 cars behind us. “Damn tourists” was heard again. These problems should not deter anyone from visiting our nation’s Capitol however. There are sympathetic eyes, usually fellow tourists, that have already mastered the system and are only too willing to help.

The beauty of visiting Washington DC is that most things are free if one ignores that fact that as taxpayers we really did pay for all this stuff, and that you are at a location where George W, Dick Cheney, Carl Rove, Don Rumsfelt, and 100,000 lobbyists are a stone’s throw away at any given time. By the way, the word lobbyist is claimed to have its origins with President Grant who was offered drinks in the lobby at the Willard Hotel by people wanting favors. There was a White House State Dinner while we were in DC and the guest list was printed in the Washington Post. We secretly wished our names would appear on the list, if not only to dine on smoked salmon truffles, Beef Wellington and chocolate flan, but to see Michael R. Hightower, vice president, Blue Cross & Blue Shield of Florida; Connie Rice; David J. O'Reilly, chairman and chief executive officer, Chevron Corp. and wife, Joan; Donald Rumsfeld and his lovely wife Joyce; William H. Swanson, chairman and chief executive officer, Raytheon Co. and wife, Cheryl; two chemical company executives; numerous lobbyists for unknown interests; and the guest of honor, the prime minister of Australia, John Howard and his lovely wife Jannette. For President Bush’s welcoming speech and the Prime Minister Howard’s response see following link.

http://www.state.gov/p/eap/rls/ot/66295.htm

When one visits Washington DC, you have to narrow your choices. How does one decide what to visit when there are so many interesting places to see? Sara and I determined that the new Native American Museum, the Holocaust Museum and World War II Memorial were must sees. We also decided to revisit Arlington Cemetery and the Vietnam Wall. Finally, Sara determined that attending High Mass at the National Cathedral was a once in a lifetime experience, a sentiment that was shared by Don and described in those exact words. The church experience was given considerably more urgency after Don, quite by accident, discovered that there was a major air show scheduled at Andrews Air Force Base featuring the Blue Angels, the Canadian Snow Birds, the Stealth Nighthawk, and a paratrooper jump demonstration. Sara agreed to the air show with the same level of enthusiasm as Don greeted High Mass and we both pleasantly surprised. Well, sort of. Life in an RV is a series of compromises after all, and sometimes what one least expects turns out to be a joy.

We alternated our visit downtown with bird watching ventures. The rural areas that surround the DC area to the east are beautiful and much like rural Wisconsin. We visited the Merkle Wildlife Sanctuary and the Smithsonian Environmental Station on Chesapeake Bay. Green rolling hills, large horse farms and hay fields dot the landscape. And at each port town there are picturesque harbors with some of the best seafood restaurants on the East coast.

The Native American Museum was our first stop and it was incredible. The architecture of the building alone is worth a visit as is the cafeteria which features all Native American cuisines from various regions. We dined on pulled duck, wild rice salad, tacos, buttered beets and a native fruit drink that was delicious. The museum is laid out on three floors, and it was soon determined that we would be in the museum for the next three weeks if we didn’t speed up our pace of review. Sara, in true obsessive compulsive style wanted to read every word, see every pot, all in the correct order. Don usually started at the opposite end of each area much to the dismay of the museum volunteers. We usually met in the middle. The displays, particularly the gold and bead work were awesome. And the tragic history of treaties broken and massacres of both Native Americans and whites were well documented.

On Saturday we went the air show at Andrews Air Force Base. The show was quite an experience!!! It was our first and will probaby be our last, but what a show. We had to park at the FEDEX stadium where the Redskins play football. Once through security, we were loaded on to stuttle buses to the base. We first walked through the largest cargo plane in the US Air Force.

We marveled at this six story monster and wondered how it could it could ever get off the ground. There were shows by the Canadian Snowbirds and the Lima Lima areobatics team. We marveled at the air displays. We saw vintage planes, tanks, rocket launchers and the Stealth Nighthawk that looks like a big black bat at a cost of $42 million a pop. The U-2 spy plane was there and the show ended with an incredible display by the famous US Blue Angels Air Team. It was ear shattering to say the least. There could have had a big sign over it stating, YOUR TAX DOLLARS AT WORK. Sara was patient with visions of payback dancing through her head as she visualized church the next morning and sent out warning comments like “We really don’t have to leave until you want to, really!!” The next morning was payback time.

On Sunday we worked up enough nerve to actually drive our little convertible to the National Cathedral which is located on the west side of downtown DC at the end of embassy row. We got lost but finally made it just in time for the start of the services. Being the 7th largest cathedral in the world, it was impressive but the service was equally inspiring. It started with a long entrance ceremony including female celebrants in vestments, a full choir and a guest speaker who was Episcopalian and gave an excellent, if not a bit lengthy and lofty sermon. Sara and I were so impressed with the ecumenical tone of the service and full participation of women. We received communion and lit votive candles for many of friends past and present. Don behaved himself and was thankful that the church lacked kneelers.

After church Sara wanted to do some shopping, so we located a mall. After dropping off Sara and parking the car, I was returning to the mall only to have very large black women, in a very large SUV come zooming at me. She yelled at me, “Get out of my way, you old honky grandpa.” A large black dude on the curb yelled at her, “Ya all wouldn’t be saying that if he was an old nigger!” I took that comment as a gesture of support but wondered if I really appeared that old to both of them. Oh well, must be the white hair.

The next day we visited the Holocaust Museum which was emotionally draining is so many ways. First, the building is designed to give the feeling of a train station and later a concentration camp. The public is warned that most of the 4 floors are not suitable for younger children. One has to get a free ticket and can only enter the 4th floor at the time stamped on the ticket. Too many people, too little room to view the hundreds of displays. One is issued an identification book based on sex and is lifted to the fourth floor by an elevator. You then wind your way down to the first floor through the history of the Holocaust from the rise of Nazism, the Final Solution and Liberation. There were the ghettos, the medical experiments, the railroad cars, the hair, the teeth, the gas chambers, the ovens and the shoes; all those shoes; it was impossible to pass with dry eyes. As we shuffled through the floors with literally hundreds of people, young and old, we could hear nothing, only silence, awe, and occasional sniffles. . The personal accounts on larges screens at the end of the experience were particularly moving. We visited The Hall of Remembrance after the tour, and over the eternal flame were the words:

“ONLY GUARD YOURSELF AND GUARD YOUR SOUL.
CAREFULLY, LEST YOU FORGET THE THINGS YOUR
EYES SAW, AND LEST THESE THINGS DEPART YOUR
HEART ALL THE DAYS OF YOUR LIFE. AND YOU SHALL
MAKE THEM KNOWN TO YOUR CHILDREN AND YOUR
CHILDREN’S CHILDREN.”

And to think that there are still people who claim the Holocaust never happened.

But the most difficult visit of all was the Viet Nam Wall. It rises from the earth like an endless black highway with name, after name after name of the dead. We walked the wall looking for the names of personal friends who died in that mindless conflict. They are impossible to find. There are just too many names; thousands and thousands of names. Memories of the war protest with a lone priest standing in front of the post office in Stevens Point WI during college, Father Philip Berrigan, his brother Daniel, Father Groppe in Milwaukee, The Baltimore Four and the The Catonsville Nine, the Democratic Convention in Chicago 1968, the funerals of high school and college buddies, My Lai all came flooding back. No single event did more to change Sara’s and my life or formed our persective more than the Viet Nam War. It is the reason we chose a career in education, it was the reason we chose to teach rather then sell, and the reason we brought our daughters up to, hopefully, believe that all people are created equal. We think they do.

The World War II Memorial in its simple elegance was very emotional. We cried at Kennedy’s Grave and the changing of the Guard at the Tomb of the Unknowns. Even the hoards of school kids were quiet and respectful. And oh those row and rows of white grave stones. With all the problems this country has and regardless of ones political persuasion, a visit to Arlington Cemetery quickly makes one realize how lucky we are to live in this country, and how many have given the ultimate sacrifice to protect our freedom. We finished our visit to Arlington Cemetery with a visit to the Lee Mansion on the hill overlooking the cemetery and all of Washington DC.

The last day of our 10 day visit we took a final tour of the city using our trolley tickets. The trip wound through Georgetown, Foggy Bottom and passed by the National Cathedral. We noticed that one of the schools on the grounds had a sign that stated, “St Albans EPISCOPAL School”. I commented to the trolley driver that it was strange to have an Episcopal school on the grounds of a Catholic Cathedral. We watch in horror as our fellow tourists chuckled and the driver informed us that the National Cathedral is Episcopal and that the Catholic Cathedral is on the grounds of Catholic University. I burst into laughter as Sara face was filled with horror. Now keep in mind that Sara, who is a product of 11 years of Catholic schools, realized that we had attended High Mass the day before at an EPISCOPALIAN church. No wonder it seemed so ecumenical. I asked Sara if it still counted and if we would have to do a “makeup” service. I suggested we skip mass for the next few weeks less we drawn more attention on ourselves. Chuckles again.

Visiting our nation’s capital stirs so many conflicting emotions. One feels pride, remorse, shame, astonishment, admiration for the sacrifices of others, amazement, thankfulness, fear, irony, self reflection and joy. . May our nation’s leaders make wise decisions. As citizens of the most powerful nation in the world, we have so much to be proud of and so much to be diligent about. D C is a place to see again.