Springtime in Washington

With the mercury hitting 70, today marks the unofficial start to springtime in Washington, DC. Soon the suit-wearing politicos and their khaki-wearing slaves will emerge blinking into the sunlight, rubbing the flourescent haze from their bloodshot eyes to engage in some earnest, if awkward, frisbee on the Mall during lunch time. Even sooner (as in next weekend), hoardes of tourists will descend on our fair city for the second time this calendar year (Change-bama really threw off our citywide social calendar) to stand around in their own earnest, if awkward way, and generally clog up the finely meshed gears that make our city run semi-smoothly.

The draw next weekend will be the cherry blossom festival, one Washington event that is actually worth the hype. The blooming trees that surround the Tidal Basin are a sight to behold.

Sign of Spring #2 – fun outdoor(ish) events. This weekend was the book sale at the local library – Jared and I waged war on it, and came away with one couchful of books (new unit of measurement) for less than $10.

Sign of Spring #3 – unpredictable rainstorms. Last Thursday I decided to stick to my bicycle commute despite the promised rain. As anyone who has biked through the rain will understand, I was soaked by mile two. When I walked into my office, dripping wet and with a dopey grin plastered onto my face, I drew a few looks. When one of my coworkers asked why I was smiling, I explained that the first thing any backpacker learns is how to be wet & happy.

That reminded me at once of one of the wettest and happiest times in my recent memory. It was summer of 2007, and I was hiking through New Hampshire’s White Mountains on my way to Maine. My dad had come out to join me for a stretch, and New England had kindly delivered a solid week of the kind of weather it specializes in – grey, foggy, rainy days. One day in particular was spent hiking through a persistent driving rain, catching occasional reprieve underneath shelter roofs as we pushed towards civilization. When we finally reached a road, we stuck out our thumbs and hitched a ride in the back of a pickup truck to the AMC’s beautiful Highland Center. I can still remember standing in our cramped bunkroom, soaked to the bone, the relief of a solid roof and dry clothes about the sweetest gift I had ever received.

That’s the thing about getting soaked – it teaches you to appreciate something as simple as being dry.

The Great Experimenters

Anyone who knows me will not be surprised to hear that I am an armchair scientist of sorts. I don’t have any scientific training beyond high school and the stacks of “popular scientific non-fiction” (candidate for lamest sounding genre ever) in my bookshelf, which is why I consider myself more of a fan of science than a participant.

That said, I want to draw your attention to this excellent piece by Dennis Overbye (an excellent science writer) in last Tuesday’s New York Times:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/27/science/27essa.html?_r=1

With his usual eloquence, Overbye explains how science, specifically President Obama’s inaugural promise to “restore science to its rightful place,” is a centerpiece of liberal democracy, freedom, and the American way.

I strongly encourage that you read Overbye’s excellent piece if you are even tangentially interested in the sciences. He puts the argument brilliantly, but I will make a few comments nonetheless.

Even though our culture ignores, confuses, or even scorns science, it is the single most important endeavor of humankind throughout history. Scientific progress has made possible every creature comfort that we enjoy, every technological advance that separates us from the rest of the species on earth. While dogma and ideology shatter and fragment mankind, the quest for knowledge and understanding binds us together.

As Americans, science is a particularly central element of our identity, whether certain social groups wish to acknowledge it or not. There is nothing more American than the scientific process, the objective, fair, and democratic system of deducing and testing truths. The explorers who colonized the country were driven by the same burning curiosity that lays thick in the halls of the Large Hadron Collider’s research facilities: the need to shine a light into the dark, unexplored corners of the universe.

Even our forefathers embraced these ideals, referring to the very tenants of our government and society as a great experiment in liberty and democracy.

For me, the pinnacle of such scientific endeavor is the work done by NASA. I defy you to find an American, or a human, who does not marvel at the images from the Hubble space telescope, shake their head in wonder as a man-made satellite crawls across the night sky, or shiver with excitement hearing Neil Armstrong broadcast the first words heard from another world.

And yet, despite the infinite potential and proven success of such programs, NASA’s budget in 2008 was a mere $17 billion, a number which pales in comparison to the $481 billion we spent waging war against our fellow man across our tiny, miraculous planet. I don’t know what Obama thinks “the rightful place” of science in our culture, and our budget, is. I know that the day when we spend more money learning and investigating than we do blowing each other to pieces is far off. I do know, however, that our species’ fate depends on us reaching that day. Here’s to hoping that the next four years will be a step in the right direction.

Inauguration

Today I had the great privilege to witness one of the crowning achievements of human civilization. I like to think that I use this term carefully - I usually only speak of the bravery and ingenuity of the Apollo program with such high regard - but the Presidential inauguration is a special phenomenon indeed. I stood alongside roughly 2 million of my countrymen under the watchful vigil of the Washington and Lincoln Monuments, gazing across the frosty air of the mile-long National Mall at the halls of power nestled between Constitution and Independence Avenues to watch the most powerful country on the planet engage in the peaceful transfer of power from party to party.

From that unique vantage point, surrounded by a crowd buzzing with energy and warmth in the winter air, I listened to a young, black American lawyer and Senator share with his constituents his plan to restore some of the tarnished glory of our nation. I heard more than just the expected pleasantries and patriotism - I heard a few much-needed harsh realities. I heard our President flatly "reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals" - repudiating the tired dogma that fear of attack should permit us to compromise the moral standards upon which our union is built. I heard our President demand that each American citizen "not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly" the responsibility of community service that citizenship carries.

I feel obligated at this point to temper my rhetoric - I am not (despite what the previous paragraph would lead you to believe) a total convert to Obamania. I disagree with our President on several policy points and am not deluded enough to believe that he will be the panacea to all of our country's various problems (for a better analysis of Obama's possible stumbling points I refer you to my roommate, a sage cynic- http://imperiumlibertas.blogspot.com).

No, Obama will not solve our financial woes singlehandedly. His stance on Afghanistan even qualifies him as (gasp) a Hawk on foreign policy. No, when I look at Obama I do not see our Messiah. What I do see is a brilliant man, a loving husband and devoted father, and a humble and capable civil servant. My father is fond of observing that a leader has the capacity to influence his or her organization beyond their specific powers or authorities - that they have the power to set the tone, to create a culture that upholds a certain ideology.

I believe that our President has the potential to change the culture of the federal government. I believe that his ability to demand the best of leaders and ordinary citizens alike could be infectious, and could raise the standard to which all Americans are held. The crowd I stood among in front of our Capitol this morning cheered most passionately at Obama's call to service and hard work, not his victory over the imagined evil of the Republican party.

I for one am excited at the opportunity before us. I have never been so proud to be an American as I was when I stood on that frozen lawn and watched our democracy function. I have never been so ready to dedicate my efforts to realizing our shared dream of a nation revitalized.


Check out a video I shot of Obama taking his oath of office, and the ensuing crowd reaction: Youtube Video



P.S. -
I feel obligated to mention the opening convocation offered by Pastor Rick Warren. When I first heard he was to deliver this prayer before our President's inauguration, my reaction was muted - I saw this as a relatively painless way to pay lip service to the surprisingly large percentage of our country that is enraptured by the cultish religion of intolerance and segregation. As I listened to him speak, however, I was unable to keep that cool, composed outlook. I cannot listen to a self-proclaimed man of God preach tolerance and equality, knowing the effort and influence he has dedicated to suppressing the rights of one of our country's most oppressed minorities.

In hindsight, I am not proud that Obama chose this man to speak before his anxious and devoted crowd. He represents a tired, archaic world view that is entirely unacceptable in a modern world.

Auld Acquantaince...

Another year in the books. 2008 was something else, no doubt. I rang it in at Tobin’s Boston apartment with a bunch of old friends, fresh off the trail and feeling maladjusted to the real world. One year later, I feel just as maladjusted (perhaps even more so), a little bit older, and significantly poorer.

A lot happened in 2008 – I graduated college (once), moved (twice), and changed jobs (three times). I went the longest period of my life without spending a day in Glastonbury (11 months), but in the same year probably set a record for most consecutive days spent with my best friend from home (made easier by the fact that he lives about 9 feet away from me).

There are a bunch of things I wish I had done differently: I wish I had spent more time with my family, less time at my computer, and more time with my book collection (it should never grow faster than you read ‘em).

Conversely, there are some things I would never change. I’m glad I started work the day after graduation – the temptation to relax for a week, two weeks, a month, was strong, but going straight into it really eased the transition for me. I’m immensely glad I got the housing arrangement I have in place now – seeing my roommates is one of the highlights of my day, and makes me look forward to evenings and weekends a lot more.

Probably the strongest component of this year has been a string of good luck. I’ve been fortunate enough to stay employed through tough times. I’ve enjoyed good health and the camaraderie of good friends throughout the year. I’ve spent the whole 12 months in great company, a significant amount of it with one incredible woman.

Alright, time for the good stuff.

Resolutions for 2009:
 Learn as much as possible. Learn stuff from co-workers, books, friends, Wikipedia, cereal boxes, whatever it takes.
 Leave work at work. Work is great, and it’s great to be passionate about your job. I can see how people’s passion for their work can invade their time off. I want to try and keep my perspective on work and the other important things in my life
 Do good work. A little contradictory to #2, especially in this town. Even though I don’t want work taking over my life, I want to play a part in instituting the change our nation is so excited about.
 Spend as much time as possible with my friends and family. Be the best friend, boyfriend, brother, son I can be. No brainer.
 (Borrowed from Jared, not the Jim Carrey movie) – Say yes. Go do stuff, new stuff, weird stuff.

Happy New Year all. Here’s to 2009!

The Gift of the Magi

As I get ready to head home for the holidays, I have been thinking about giving lately. Selflessness, generosity, philanthropy, call it what you will: this season (for social, religious, and tax-related reasons that I need not spell out on these pages) is all about digging deep and giving something to someone else, no strings attached, with nothing to gain but satisfaction.

Giving is, of course, about sacrifice. We’re supposed to give until it hurts, our gifts gain relevance not only from the happiness they bring the recipient, but from the hardship they impose upon ourselves. Many people engage in this strange self-flagellation cheerfully, relishing the sacrifice. The financial hardship gift giving imposes on us makes our gift feel real, gives us a kind of touchstone for the value of our love.

Obviously the first subject on my mind as I think about this are the beloved people in my life: my family, my friends, my loved ones. I have been blessed with an incredible family and a cast of fierce friends, any one of whom have, do, and will continue to make sacrifices in my name. Making myself worthy of their gifts, tangible and otherwise, is the great challenge of my life.

However, due to more than a few bits of good fortune and lucky breaks, I have had the opportunity to witness this kind of sacrifice in my professional life as well. As you know, I work in the non-profit sector for an organization dedicated to environmental quality and protection. With the economy struggling, the non-profit sector has taken a blow. People are too legitimately concerned about their own financial survival to donate money to philanthropic causes.

This financial tightening has contributed to the worried faces around conference tables nationwide, ours included. Revenues are down, and budgets are being slashed. And yet, at the same time, we see before us a great opportunity. The new administration and Congressional leadership is dedicated to a massive investment in public works, an economic stimulus in the form of environmentally-friendly infrastructure our country needs. This stimulus, which could be counted in the hundreds of billions of dollars, is the single biggest opportunity for green investment our country has ever seen.

As the holidays approach, and amidst talk of budget shortfalls, I have seen this opportunity light a fire in the eyes of the professionals I work with. My colleagues have worked long hours for little pay, despite the uncertainty of the future in our field. They have doubled down their efforts to advocate for dollars and investments that they will never profit a cent from. They are working tirelessly to create jobs for people they will never meet, preserving landscapes they will never see for future generations they will never know.

With selfishness and corruption crowding the headlines, I take great pride in working with people who are willing to give until it hurts, to make the sacrifices that make their gift to the world all the greater. As O. Henry said, they are the magi.

Thanksgiving, etc.

My goodness, where do I begin?

November was a month to remember. In fact, so many things happened, that I am hard pressed to recall them at the moment. Is it possible for one to have trouble recalling the memorable moments of their life?

The obvious highlight is my favorite holiday of the year, Thanksgiving (T-Give). In my family, Thanksgiving is an open invitation, round the clock, no holds barred food and drink extravaganza for four straight days. Between friends, family, significant others, and anyone with no convenient destination for the holiday, you can never predict who will turn up.

On the bus ride back to Glastonbury with Jared, I was struck by a surprising fact: I hadn’t been home for a 24 hour period in 11 months. Having been born and raised in the same house in the same town, this was the longest continuous absence from Gbury I have ever experienced. It’s amazing that so much time passed: I got back from the Appalachian Trail in October, went to finish school in DC in January, and started work the day after my graduation in May. In those 11 months away from home I graduated college, got two jobs, had my best friend move down to DC to live with me, found an apartment, turned 22, visited Chicago, and somehow gained the favor of a beautiful, charming, intellectual woman. It had been a pretty crazy year, and I was more relieved than usual to get home.

Getting the family back under one roof is never boring, and always fun. This year Jess joined me in tagging along with Jared’s family in running the Thanksgiving Day Manchester road race. The Stevensons have the race down to a science, and have figured out how to enjoy the 15,000 strong crowds stress-free. The race was a mixed bag – on the plus side, I ran my fastest time on record. However, I paid for it for the rest of the week: I was practically unable to climb or descend stairs for 4 days.

The nap between race and dinner was excellent as always, and dinner blew me away yet again. The night was long and full of friends, music, and fun. Friday is my turn to cook: I smoke a turkey every year in a trashcan. It’s kind of complicated, but trust me, it’s better than it sounds. This year’s Friday after T-give, Erin bravely came down to visit with the Kimball family. She was spectacular, giving one of the most memorable and fitting T-give gifts our family has ever seen (a beautifully wrapped box of wine) and winning over the family.

The next day was great also: I drove up to Southampton to meet some of Erin’s extended family, and wound up driving Erin back to Glastonbury for Tobin’s traditional bonfire party.

There are many pages of stories I could put here, but it occurs to me I have posted nothing Washingtonian, elitist, or insider-ly. On that note, the big thing these days is the economic stimulus bill and the administrative transition.

More on that, and an exhaustive post in defense of lobbyists (most elitist of the insiders, no doubt), coming soon.

Our wallets are one of the few items granted the dubious honor of following us around nearly every day. For most of us, they not only keep some essentials at hand, but become a universal storage space for the little odds and ends we come across throughout our day.

As a result, your wallet really tells a lot about you. A wallet full of neatly folded receipts might indicate a details-oriented personality, or a savvy/paranoid spender. A billfold stuffed with business cards is the mark of a networker. Or you might just have a wallet full of random things that provide clues to your personality: my best friend and roommate’s wallet contains a hand-drawn fighter pilot license I made him in middle school, about a dozen Chinese food fortunes, and not-quite-empty farecards for an assortment of public transportation systems across the globe (just in case). Those three items alone make for a pretty accurate picture of Jared.

I started thinking about this in earnest when I was gearing up to hike the Appalachian Trail in the Spring/Summer of 2007. The very last piece of gear I purchased for my six-month hike was a new wallet. I replaced the bulky leather tri-fold I got as a birthday present from my buddy Tobin with a slim nylon pouch with three pockets, capable of carrying about 15 bills and 10 cards. This was a big transition for me: I had developed a bad case of wallet packrat-ism, and saying goodbye to my drawings, membership cards, and other assorted miscellany was no easy task.

I realize in retrospect that my slimmed down wallet was just one component of a generally slimmed-down lifestyle. Trail life was exceedingly simple, free of the complex constraints of scheduling or obligations. The transition was so thorough that I found myself struggling to manage the little intricacies of the real world upon my return: my time management skills and capacity to worry about the minutiae of social life were diminished.

While I came to grips with the shift from simplicity to complexity, my wallet slowly bulged. On the trail all I needed was a few bucks in cash, two credit cards, my license and insurance card. I gradually added another credit card, a school ID, and a then bulky electronic RFID cards to get me into the subway, my office, and local rental cars.

I finally gave in yesterday when I received my first ever batch of business cards. I tried to wedge a few into my tightly-packed nylon wallet, but it just wasn’t happening. It was with some resignation that I shifted my cards back to my trusty leather tri-fold.

I’m not going to throw out my little green wallet, though. It will go right into the drawer where my bulky, complex, real world billfold was stored for a year. I hope to be ready for it again soon – I know it will be waiting.