I honestly don’t know where all of this leads. I’m out of my depth here. Just consider that I am asking the below as QUESTIONS, and I am asking as a layperson where national security is concerned. And I apologize in advance if I am being alarmist. I have learned to expect the worst from Donald Trump.
1) If things escalate in Washington, D.C., is it possible that the president could order the military to fire on civilians? Is that the worst-case scenario here?
2) If there is a lasting military presence inside the United States under Trump’s control, does that have implications for election integrity? Could it conceivably mean he is better positioned to interfere with (or suspend) elections?
3) How worried should we be about the reports (and photos) of military units who claim to be with the Department of Justice when asked, but who wear no names or identifying insignia? What is going on with that?
I would love to hear people in the media reporting about this and seeking out informed opinions.
I don’t think I’d give up Roanoke for Washington, DC; I’m definitely more of a country boy than a city boy these days.
But DC sure is nice.
This is from the botanical gardens at Dumbarton Oaks in 2015.
I’ve always been a goofy looking mamajama, but damn if I wasn’t slimmer back then.
You can’t shut down my love for you, Washington.
Wisconsin Avenue in Tenleytown.
Guerrilla poetry in Tenleytown.
K Street and 18th Street.
K Street and Connecticut Ave NW.
The first (admittedly quite poor) shot here is the French Embassy on Reservoir Road.
Here are a few more pictures of Washington, D.C. — you’ll notice the befuddling inclusion of a shot of a service station on Wisconsin Avenue. It was that location that clued me into the fact that I was near my old friend Nick’s neighborhood.
He’s a Mary Wash alum, and I met up with him and some other alums a few years after we graduated. It would have been … 1998? 1999? Anyway, I had an air conditioning unit in the trunk of my Ford Taurus, because I’d recently changed apartments myself, and I’d forgotten to take it out. For reasons I’ve never been able to determine, my friends found that uproariously hilarious. People called me “Air Conditioner Guy.” They asked about it in e-mails and calls. (“Is it still in there?”) They brought it up at parties.
To this day, I feel certain there is an element to the joke that I am unaware of.
This is Tenleytown, in Washington, D.C.’s Northwest, just a couple of blocks from a campus of American University — where I almost went to school, instead of Mary Washington College in Virginia. I even (somewhat hilariously) received “honors admission” there. (I was never actually a true “honor student,” even in high school, because my grades in math and science were fair at best — and anyone who knew me at age 18 could tell you that I was not exactly the brightest bulb in the socket.)
I remember being pretty excited as a high school senior at that admission letter. American U. was my first choice; I was only seduced away to small-town Virginia by a generous financial aid package from the good people at Mary Washington. (Yes, young people, Fredericksburg was indeed a small town in 1990, even if it now looks like downtown frikkin’ Fairfax.)
It was freaky sipping coffee in Tenleytown and pondering some other parallel-universe me who lived and studied and partied there as a kid. (Where would I have bought my comic books?) Most people don’t think about string theory when they travel, but I am both a science fiction fan and a really weird guy with a lot of time on his hands. (Where is that other Eric right now? Is he married? Is he writing? Is he equally irritated by Star Wars obsessives, the religious right, Orwellian language, people who push “healthy snacks,” the dumbing down of America, “fun-sized” candy, and the gradual decline of “The Walking Dead?”)
Anyway, Tenleytown a pleasant neighborhood with a brisk, college-town vibe to it. DC consistently surprises me by how friendly its people can be.
I left some poetry mini-books beside some news-stands on Albemarle Street, a cross-street with Wisconsin Avenue. The stands alternately inform readers in Greek, Spanish, Chinese and English about how DC’s most deplorable resident has most recently embarrassed our country. (I admire the Spanish-language papers’ predictable special antipathy for the president.) No matter how sad the news is, this town will not let you hide behind a language barrier.
Am I nuts, or does that Best Buy look like it was designed with the Watergate in mind? I keep wondering if that is someone’s idea of an obscure joke.
June 2018. This is the only part of Washington, D.C. that can truly remind me of New York City. (The diverse array of “food trucks” help quite a bit.) The people there, however, seem far more likely to make eye contact and begin a conversation. (I briefly chatted with a nice photographer who took a couple of poetry mini-books home with her.)
I’m proud of that last shot you see of pigeons alighting the park’s namesake — even if it is a little fuzzy and even if I only snapped it by chance. David G. Farragut was a Southerner who nevertheless served heroically as an admiral in the Union navy during the Civil War. He coined the famous phrase, “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!” Maybe I’m only demonstrating my ignorance here, but I didn’t even realize that torpedoes were really a thing during the Civil War, even after seeing the C.S.S. Hunley at Charleston, South Carolina as a kid.
United States Library of Congress’s Prints and Photographs Division.