by Kevin Palmer
We started out the door early for a change, because my wife, Erin, was swamped at work, what with a new administration coming in and all. The air was crisp, but not biting, and it was a brilliantly sunny day, a rare thing for winter in Washington. Walking, we left our door and headed south to Maryland Avenue, then west toward our jobs. Since we live in Northeast, we take the most direct route, and thanks to L'Enfant's diagonals, we can cut off quite a bit of the trip.
In our journey this day, we pass few people, except the occasional office worker heading to Union Station to catch the Metro downtown, or train to New York, Baltimore, or any of 50 other destinations. The streets are remarkably quiet. The usual stream of suburban Marylanders cutting through the neighborhood is even calm. At Stanton Park, only one car runs the red light when we get the "Walk" signal, better than average, but still a perturbance. We get to the Supreme Court, site of media frenzies and protests only a month before, but now surreptitiously dull, and think how great it is to walk past such national treasures every day.
As we cross over to the Capitol grounds, we notice that a helicopter has been circling behind the enormous dome and then heading back down the stretch of the Mall, returning every five minutes or so. A few TV crews are out setting up for their break-ins near the Victorian streetcar stand that still graces Frederick Law Olmsted's curving landscape on the grounds. The helicopter buzzes around a few more times, then, as we approach the slow descent downhill along the paths adjacent to Independence Avenue, police cars race frenetically up and down the street, which is closed to traffic for some reason this morning.
Finally, as we get near the intersection with 1st Street, SW, next to the US Botanic Garden, we see what the fuss is all about. On the western horizon, we see a line of police motorcycles followed by a motorcade two blocks long. It's the President, of course, and he's making a trip to the Library of Congress. The US Capitol Police officer halts our progress at the corner and we stand, watching as the line of limousines, SUVs, and an ambulance fly past us. It's quite a spectacle to behold, but we've both witnessed this scene at least ten times in the years we have lived and worked in the nation's capital. "This doesn't happen in Reston," Erin proclaims. I just stand there and smile.
We wait the extra five minutes or so for the officer to wave us across, and continue on our way. I kiss Erin goodbye as she heads into her building, and continue on to L'Enfant Plaza, a few blocks away. A group of uninspired federal buildings that are the product of the government's "urban renewal" program in the 1960's, this area once looked like the rest of old Washington. Where I work, a 10-story, full-block long and wide postmodern piece of decaying garbage, there used to be a vibrant, if poor, working-class neighborhood. Devoid mostly of trees and landscaping, the area is now more akin to a suburban office park, with surface lots fronting many buildings and entrances to underground garages taking precedence over pedestrian passage.
Southwest aside, Washington has a tremendous amount of beautiful architecture, from its Victorian residential neighborhoods to the many fine neoclassical institutions, Italianate office buildings, and decent if unoriginal modernist boxes on K Street. Most people know Washington is the home of our nation's government, but few realize that the city also hosts some of the most diverse cultural institutions, restaurants, museums, galleries, theaters, and parks in the nation.
Our own house, which the realtor told us was built in 1910, but which I have strong suspicion is actually older, based on the manholes being stamped 1901 or earlier, is a Victorian bayfront built along a former streetcar (now bus) line in Capitol Hill. Since moving here in 1999, we've made some tradeoffs--yes, downtown retailing sometimes requires you to exercise creativity to find what you're looking for, and the schools are just beginning to see a turnaround, after years of mismanagement and neglect, but those are offset by the ability to live in a beautiful neighborhood with mature trees, access to public transportation, and the ability to walk to almost everything.
We relish the ability to stroll to Eastern Market, the city's last remaining market hall. There, dozens of farmers, artists, and merchants fill the outdoor stalls with their goods, and inside real meat markets sell the freshest cuts, vegetable stands hawk juicy fruits and huge carrot stalks, and florists fill the whole place with vibrant color. Across the street, a large flea market sets up each weekend with antique furniture, crafts, art, and a variety of stuff you just don't find in places like Home Elements or Pottery Barn. We also love being able to walk to great restaurants, to listen to good jazz any night of the week, or catch a movie at the Uptown, all without getting behind a wheel.
In short, we love living in Washington, even if it means getting delayed by the President every now and then. There's not too many places where you can tell your boss you're late because POTUS was headed to the Capitol and get away with it. Here, you can.
Kevin Palmer is a graphic designer living in Washington, DC. He and his wife treasure the hour they get each day of exercise and time to think on their walking commute. They wouldn't trade it for a McMansion any day.
