Last weekend, I had an impromptu opportunity to visit the nation's capital for a day or so. For the reasons why, feel free to visit this blog's prettier sister.
Saturday night, having finished the day's work, and having been sated with 12 year old scotch and some fine cuisine, I remembered that I had parked beneath the Ronald Reagan Building of Important Events. Killer the K-9 had sniffed my crotch while government security agents took their sweet time sweeping my rental vehicle for any signs of contraband circus porn. Towing, so I was informed, begins precisely at 3 a.m.
As I headed south towards the parking garage, I realized that I was a mere half block from the White House. Even though it was raining, and dark, I decided to walk down to see the White House. That gawd-awful Nor'easter was supposed to blow in the next day, and I wasn't sure if I would get to sight see or not.
Finally clearing the Treasury Building, the White House came into view. It was both over-whelming and under-whelming all at the same time. Under-whelming because, after a lifetime of pictures, movies and sundry images, and now living in the digital age of go go go its already outdated... the main structure was smaller than the homes that most of my business clients have, and very simply and plainly adorned.
Then that temporary source of disappointment was replaced by a sudden surge of emotion that I still cannot fully understand. My child hood friends might all tell you that I was destined for a life in politics, and perhaps this was the belated homecoming for a man with deeply rooted, unrealized dreams. Or maybe it was just, as I get older, my appreciation for the struggles and history of this nation and all of its people were anchored in the building sitting quietly in front of me. Maybe it was just the image of a lonely looking home, in the middle of a dark rainy night.
I fear it was more a sense of distinct sadness and disappointment in the people, the organizations, the secret deals that have brought so much shame, vitriol and distrust in the last 40 years. Arguably, the worst of it has taken place in the last 15 years. Every day, maybe a million different times a day, I find myself straddling some emotional and psychological fence between the people who pay me to help them get the most out of beneficial laws, and wanting to cry out to those people going on about their lives almost completely unaware of the forces that shape and control their lives. Sitting at my step daughter's softball game yesterday, I could only stay in the stands for a few innings. I could not bear to look at the people around me, neighbors and friends, who have ceded nearly complete control of their day to today existence, largely by ignorance and acquiescence.
Home at last... Formerly Living.
Saturday night, having finished the day's work, and having been sated with 12 year old scotch and some fine cuisine, I remembered that I had parked beneath the Ronald Reagan Building of Important Events. Killer the K-9 had sniffed my crotch while government security agents took their sweet time sweeping my rental vehicle for any signs of contraband circus porn. Towing, so I was informed, begins precisely at 3 a.m.
As I headed south towards the parking garage, I realized that I was a mere half block from the White House. Even though it was raining, and dark, I decided to walk down to see the White House. That gawd-awful Nor'easter was supposed to blow in the next day, and I wasn't sure if I would get to sight see or not.
Finally clearing the Treasury Building, the White House came into view. It was both over-whelming and under-whelming all at the same time. Under-whelming because, after a lifetime of pictures, movies and sundry images, and now living in the digital age of go go go its already outdated... the main structure was smaller than the homes that most of my business clients have, and very simply and plainly adorned.
Then that temporary source of disappointment was replaced by a sudden surge of emotion that I still cannot fully understand. My child hood friends might all tell you that I was destined for a life in politics, and perhaps this was the belated homecoming for a man with deeply rooted, unrealized dreams. Or maybe it was just, as I get older, my appreciation for the struggles and history of this nation and all of its people were anchored in the building sitting quietly in front of me. Maybe it was just the image of a lonely looking home, in the middle of a dark rainy night.
I fear it was more a sense of distinct sadness and disappointment in the people, the organizations, the secret deals that have brought so much shame, vitriol and distrust in the last 40 years. Arguably, the worst of it has taken place in the last 15 years. Every day, maybe a million different times a day, I find myself straddling some emotional and psychological fence between the people who pay me to help them get the most out of beneficial laws, and wanting to cry out to those people going on about their lives almost completely unaware of the forces that shape and control their lives. Sitting at my step daughter's softball game yesterday, I could only stay in the stands for a few innings. I could not bear to look at the people around me, neighbors and friends, who have ceded nearly complete control of their day to today existence, largely by ignorance and acquiescence.
Home at last... Formerly Living.
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