Day 2 -- Arlington National Cemetery

 

In Washington, D.C., street art is everywhere. These mosaics were on the wall of a highway underpass which is around the corner from the Crystal City Metro Station. You can't tell from my photos but many of the tiny tiles were mirrors and sparkled beautifully. Note the bicycles. It's common for locals to ride their bikes to the subway station then take the subway to within walking distance of their destination.

Grandson John Riley at "our" subway stop

We each got 7-Day Metro passes. That way we could get on any time we wanted at any station and go wherever the subway went.

The boys soon learned escalator etiquette. You stand as far to the right as possible, so the locals can run past you down to or up from the trains.

Keeping in mind that I have a fear of heights and those escalators are multi-stories high -- the first time I was in D.C., I stood as far to the right as possible, clinging white-knuckled, to the railing. Praying silently, "Don't touch me. Don't touch me." as men and women in office attire carrying various and sundry bags and brief cases hurried past me. I just knew if one of them bumped me I wouldn't stop rolling until I hit the bottom.

I asked the boys what they would most like to see. "The Lincoln Memorial," John Riley answered without hesitation. And John said the Supreme Court. Silas, the nine-year-old, wanted to swim in the hotel swimming pool and go to an escape room. Well, nine is almost old enough for a history vacation.

Arlington Cemetery is the third subway stop from the Crystal City Station, so we got off there that second day.

Arlington National Cemetery is today a 624-acre United States military cemetery. In 1864 at the height of the Civil War, the property was owned by Mary Anna Custis Lee, great-granddaughter of Martha and George Washington and wife of Confederate General Robert E. Lee. Mrs. Lee sent an agent, to pay the $92.07 in property taxes (equal to $1,400 today) due on the property in a timely manner. The government turned her agent away and refused to accept the tendered payment because she had not come in person. Now, if your husband was the head of a rebel army, would you present yourself to his enemies?

Then in May 1864, a call went out for eligible sites for the establishment for a large new national military cemetery. Arlington Estate, now forfeit due to failure to pay the property taxes, was deemed the most suitable property in the D.C. area. It was high and free from floods (which might unearth graves); it had a view of the District of Columbia; and it was aesthetically pleasing. Also, rendering the home forever after unavailable to Robert E. Lee, the leader of the armed forces of the Confederate States of America, was a valuable political consideration.

Even with all the people visiting it, the cemetery is peaceful and quiet. This city of the dead is full of life, wildlife. I loved hearing Mockingbirds with their many varied songs and Robins whistling. We have Robins in Colorado, but not Mockingbirds.

     A Momma White Tailed Deer                     A Robin sits atop a headstone.   

                   had parked her fawn in the shade    

                 of a headstone in a quiet area not far 

                    from President Kennedy's grave.                                                            

I was intrigued to see headstones for World War I veterans identifying their places of origin from all over the world. The National Park Service estimates that about 500,000 immigrants from 46 nations served in America’s armed forces during World War I. And they were eligible for a fast track to naturalization by virtue of their military service.



I recently saw The Notorious RBG, the documentary about Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg. She reminds me of my grandmother -- a tiny woman with a will of iron. And always a lady.  If you haven't seen the film, I highly recommend it.

I was hoping to find a Notorious RBG t-shirt for my souvenir from this D.C. trip. But it was not to be. We did happen onto her beloved husband Martin's grave.

I got tired walking so I headed back to the Visitors Center. I always have whatever book I'm reading with me so I can entertain myself while others of my party trudge on.

One thing about resting in D.C. you meet the nicest people from all over the world. When I first sat down to read, a child sat down next to me. I purposely did not "notice" him. I find that young children are like many young animals, they are more comfortable making first contact. So we sat side by side for a bit until he told me that he likes chocolate chip cookies. That he would give me one but they were in a bag his mother had. I asked how old he was. That's always a good ice-breaker. "Six," he told me in his most grown-up manner. 

I met his two older brothers -- the middle one was probably 11 or 12 and the oldest about the same age as John Riley. People that age are less inclined to chit-chat with some unknown adult. Then his mother came over to visit. The family is from South Africa, the Free State which is in the central part of the nation. Then I met his father, who is here helping build a new chemical plant in Louisiana.

They moved on and I got to visit with a woman originally from South Carolina, but she's lived in the D.C. area for almost 30 years. She recommended we visit the Spy Museum, telling me that her grandchildren loved it.

While I visited in the Visitors Center, the boys explored the cemetery. They were particularly looking for Audie Murphy's grave. He's from their hometown in Texas. Audie Murphy, perhaps better known as an actor back in the '50s was one of  the most decorated combat soldiers in World War II. He received every military combat award for valor available from the U.S. Army, as well as French and Belgian awards for heroism.

Not only did they find Audie Murphy's grave, but they saw former President Bill Clinton. He, of course, drew a crowd so they couldn't get close enough to talk to him, but they did get to see him.

Leaving Arlington, we reboarded the Metro and headed for the Supreme Court of the United States.

A History Vacation -- Day One

Dome on the United States Capitol

Day One of a History Vacation:

Five years ago I went with the girls (my daughter, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter) on a History Vacation to Washington D.C. The granddaughter was 12 and old enough to enjoy and benefit from a vacation that focused on museums and monuments.

My grandsons are now 14 and 9, so it was time for them and their father, my son, to go on their own History Vacation. In June, I flew from Denver and they from Dallas for a week in our beautiful Capital City.

Washington is definitely a walking city. There are so many people from out of town and what little  parking there is is pricey, so driving is not only fiscally disheartening, it is emotionally daunting. I can't imagine trying to navigate an unfamiliar town in heavy traffic where most of the other drivers are also trying to navigate an unfamiliar town in heavy traffic. With the Metro, D.C.'s subway system readily available at reasonable cost, there is no need to drive there. It is safe and clean and there are always people ready to help you find your way.

We stayed in a hotel in Crystal City which is just outside D.C. on the Virginia side of the Potomac River. The hotel shuttle runs from the airport to the hotel every ten or fifteen minutes and is free.

Crystal City must be the hotel and apartment capital of the world. Look out any window or down any street and mostly all you'll see is another hotel or apartment building. There is one large shopping mall with little malls and parks scattered about.

My son John is most adept at using his smart phone. He pulled up multiple options for our dinner that evening -- within walking distance, say 15 to 20 minutes. We settled on Nando's Peri Peri. I tend to avoid chain restaurants but Nando's was identified as serving Spicy Afro-Portuguese food. I'd never eaten African or Portuguese food. Well, I had Ethiopian on the previous History Vacation. Which by-the-bye, I enjoyed thoroughly.

We passed the large shopping mall on our walk to dinner. We never ventured inside it. I'm not a shopper by nature and it's hard enough to get me into a mall in Denver much less in D.C. where there are so many other places to spend my time. Places not available at home.



My son John and his son Silas, the nine-year-old, enjoying Peri Peri chicken meals.

According to Wikipedia, Nando's is an "international casual dining restaurant chain originating in South Africa. Founded in 1987, Nando's operates about 1,000 outlets in 30 countries." I can testify that the food at the Nando's in Crystal City is good and reasonably priced. And the people who work there are courteous and friendly.



Outdoor seating for diners is available in the middle of the small square of shops. If you look closely, just beyond the people eating, there are people participating in an outdoor yoga class. The yoga folk also have a shop on the square for rainy day classes, indoors.

There is a bakery, an Irish pub, a Lebanese Taverna, a Zen Bistro and Wine Bar, etc. It's a totally perfect place if you're hungry and looking for someplace to relax after a long day. And travel makes for a long day for me.



The weather was beautiful, mid-60s with golden evening light reflecting off the upper stories of the buildings around us. We ate and strolled around the area before returning to our hotel.

What we call a Convenience Store. Although its
location was "convenient" to our hotel,
its hours were not. It was only open

until 5 in the afternoon.

This sign was just around the corner from our hotel so not only did it give me a chuckle every time I saw it, but I knew where to turn to get back to our home away from home.

Wheel of Time

My memory from 6 years ago today on Facebook: "A Memory of Light. This title will be released on January 8, 2013. So says Amazon. Hooray. Guess I won't have to let the air out of Brandon Sanderson's tires after all."

Before Wheel of Time, I proclaimed to all and sundry that I didn't read fantasies. Or series. As far as I was concerned, no one would ever be able to meet the standard set by J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. 

And then, and then.... My daughter Grace and I were driving north on I-35 at 70 mph, listening to NPR as was my want. It was September 2007. Grace graduated high school a few months before and would turn 18 that October. Suddenly she started screaming and pounding the dashboard. Got my attention, I'll tell you.

When I got us stopped and tried to find out what was going on, it turns out she was listening to NPR's news more closely than I. They had just announced that Robert Jordan died. 

Grace was furious! He died leaving his Wheel of Time series unfinished. She had read them all up through the eleventh one released two years before. We're not talking graphic novels here. We're talking page counts from the shortest at 334 pages for the first book up to 987 pages for the longest. The prologues exceed 50 pages. And writers are constantly dissuaded from including ANY prologue at all.

She'd been trying to persuade me to read them for ages. I'd read the Harry Potter series (also fantasy, also a series) mostly to humor the child Grace. (At least in the beginning. I must confess I'm a Harry Potter fan now.) But that day I was really glad I hadn't started reading WoT yet. And then I didn't have to because the writer died and it would never be finished.

Hah! and double Hah!

Jordan had planned one more book. He knew he was terminally ill and he made preparations -- He said, "I'm getting out notes, so if the worst actually happens, someone could finish A Memory of Light and have it end the way I want it to end."

What did Robert Jordan's widow do? She chose a writer to "finish" the series. Brandon Sanderson. The announcement was made in December, 2007, less than three months after his death.

So I started reading, assured that the series would be completed. And I read. And I read. And I read. I  immersed myself in Jordan's world. Its three young heroes. Its strong women. Its righteously good characters and its scary, powerful bad characters.

More than a year later Tor Books, the publisher, announced that the last book would be split into three volumes. Sanderson cited timing and continuity reasons for the change in plans. Three more books! That would be a total of 14 for a person who does not read series. Intolerable. Plus, I read a couple of Sanderson's books. They were acceptable, yes, but could he carry Wheel of Time?

Nine months later the first volume completed by Sanderson, The Gathering Storm, was released. YES! It was good. It was faithful to Jordan's life's work. WoT was in good hands. Then a year later, the next in the series Towers of Midnight was released. And I was pleased. If anything, I liked Sanderson's WoT volumes even better than Jordan's. 

A year came and went and the only word from Tor was that the final book A Memory of Light, wasn't ready. There were rumors. The internet was filled with speculation and hope and despair and frustration. 

The next year I went to a writing conference and pitched my book to a Tor editor. Then I asked when A Memory of Light would be released. She said she wasn't the editor on it and that nobody knew when it would be released. It was still being edited. Only half joking, I threatened to find out where Sanderson lived and let the air out of his car's tires. She sympathized with me.

Then six years ago today, Amazon announced that A Memory of Light would be released the following January -- six more months to wait!

Was it worth the wait? Yes, it was. I've since reread the series through twice more and periodically pick up this volume or that to read again.

These days, I sometimes need to be reassured that Good will triumph over Evil. It may just take a little longer than we had hoped.

Hey! -- a discussion of language

image from NTU Magazine

Did that "hey" get your attention? Today is H Day in the A to Z Blogging Challenge and although there are many H words and topics, I settled on Hey! I've always been fascinated by the variability of the English language. It changes from country to country and region to region within countries that pride themselves on having English as a common language.

I grew up in Oklahoma which is in the South Central United States -- Southern enough that we were taught in school that the Confederate General Robert E. Lee was a gentleman and the Union General Ulysses S. Grant was not. But not so Southern that we ever referred to the American Civil War as The War of Northern Aggression.

Hey! was rude, a word used to get our attention and immediately followed by some accusation of an error on our part.

"Hey! You stepped on my foot!"
"Hey! She cut in line!"
"Hey! That's my piece of pie!"

If children used it just to get someone's attention, they were quickly corrected by any adult in the area saying "Hay is for horses."

Then I grew up and moved to Southeast Arkansas. Now that, by-the-bye, is truly Southern. Southern enough that the worst epithet you can hurl is "Yankee!" And the worst insult is the accusation "You must be from the North" which translates to "You rude, ignorant piece of white trash."

There the word Hey! was a friendly greeting, synonymous with "Hi" or "Hello." I lived there for a little more than six years and quickly established my own red line about being from the North. I was from a town in Central Oklahoma which is north of Southeast Arkansas, but I refused to be insulted. "Typical Yankee, she doesn't even know she's being insulted. Bless her heart."

I did not, however, live there long enough to be shouted Hey! at without cringing. And I never did take it up as a greeting. I still have an instant of defensiveness when someone directs Hey! at me. Even though now, Hey! is a friendly greeting throughout the United States. Perhaps it's global like okay. I don't know.

But, Hey! I guess that's a good thing.

Facebook and Google -- Opinion

image from newsmobile.in

Yesterday was Day F in the 2018 A to Z Blogging Challenge and today was G.

With all the news these days about loss of privacy and security because of our presence on social media F and G were easy--Facebook and Google.

Am I willing to give up Facebook to protect my security. To avoid being manipulated by advertisers and political operatives?

Apparently, I started on Facebook in July of 2008. I'm sure there's a way to find out exactly, but I couldn't figure it out. It's not really that important exactly when. Why is more important.

I was taking cake decorating classes and the instructor said it was easier to share photos with Facebook. She posted pictures of the cakes she did and I wanted to see them. Soooo....

My daughter Grace, a teen at the time helped her internet-illiterate mother open a Facebook account so I could see my cake decorating instructor's pictures of beautiful cakes.

In less than a week I received a friend request from a person I went to high school with. She hadn't said ten words together to me in high school so I couldn't imagine why she wanted to be my friend anywhere, much less on Facebook which could come into my home willy-nilly via my computer screen.

I didn't know if she would be notified if I rejected her friend request. And what would I do when I saw her in Walmart? Our town was small enough that that was possible. Would she be mad at me? Confront me? Vandalize my car? Well, no she wouldn't do that! So I accepted the friend request to avoid any possible unpleasantness.

Then a couple days later that same woman's ex-husband sent me a friend request. He'd never been particularly friendly to me in high school either and I surely didn't want to get in the middle of those two.

The only thing to do was to get Grace to cancel my Facebook account. Cake decorating be damned.

Grace, being slightly more rational than I, reassured me that I could just unfriend her and ignore his request. And that they wouldn't get any ugly public announcements that I had rejected them. She said that they, in fact, would probably not notice and if they did they'd just chalk it up to my flaky inability to hit the right keys and not take it personally.

She talked me into keeping my Facebook account. And I am so glad I did.

My daughter-in-law posts photos and videos of my grandchildren's activities. They live hundreds of miles away from me, and I could easily feel left out of their lives. But, just like tonight, one of my grand's team won first in their state Destination Imagination competition and will be going to Globals next month. Within minutes I could see for myself through the photos and video she posted. Color me included and proud of those beautiful, brilliant, creative young people.

Plus -- my brother lives more than a thousand miles from me. We talk on the phone, but the photos he shares via Facebook make me not feel so far away from him.

And my cousins are scattered hither and yon. We grew up together and were almost as close as siblings but I don't know their children or their spouses or their children's children and spouses very well at all. Facebook has helped me get better acquainted with them.

And my husband's family. Again we live very far away from them, but we're getting to watch the littles grow and keep up with the grown-ups.

My daughter and her partners are our only family close at hand and that will end this coming August when she marries and moves to Houston for grad school. We'll still talk on the phone, but I'm sure I'll depend on Facebook to ease the separation.

And Google? Well I'm sure Google also sells my info to businesses for all kinds of purposes. Like I heard a commentator comment "If it's a free service, my information is a commodity."

I'm a writer and like all writers I need access to information -- all kinds of information. As much as I love my local library, and as extensive as the collection is, it is still limited compared to the world's information. It is still a drive across town while my laptop sits on my desk and my cell phone is in my pocket.

I must admit, that I feel a little uncomfortable when ads for hotels in Washington, D.C., pop up because I've been researching online for an upcoming trip. Or there are ads for dining places that show up because I'm using GPS to find my way. But then access to these kinds of information when I might want to use it is very convenient.

So what can I do? I can take standard precautions -- I keep my antivirus software up to date; change my passwords regularly; turn off the location on my devices when it's not necessary for what I'm doing; avoid apps that request access to my Facebook friends and my email contacts and hope they do the same for me.

I research information for veracity. I even looked up the website that was the source for the image I used at the top of this post. It's a news agency in India.

I don't open forwarded emails. I don't open emails from sources I don't know.

And when I do mess up one of my devices as I have and probably will again, I take it to someone who knows how to clean up after me. And yes I do backups regularly.

I know, the world is a dangerous place. There are bad actors out there who will search out and take advantage of weaknesses. But I will not be cut off from the world. Or the people I care about.

So I'll keep using Facebook and Google.

Deviled Eggs -- Flash Fiction

Without looking up from her laptop, she chirped "Here's one! Ham and egg lasagna. Twelve hard-boiled eggs, ham, Swiss cheese..."

"We had egg salad sandwiches for lunch," he put his tablet aside and got up from the couch.

"I know," she said. "But we need to use them up."

He went to the hall closet.

"The kids had so much fun hunting eggs. How about pickled eggs?" She called after him. "Eight boiled eggs, a jar of beets ...." She sent the recipe to the printer.

He came back through the dining room carrying his favorite day pack. He hoped they'd found them all. He didn't relish finding boiled eggs with the lawn mower weeks down the road.

"Bill? Did you hear? Pickled eggs?"

"Um hum. And beets," he said as he headed for the kitchen.

"I'm glad we didn't get plastic eggs," she said. "Here are a whole bunch of recipes for deviled eggs," she cried. "You like deviled eggs!"

He opened the refrigerator door. "I think I'll take Buddy for a walk."

Hearing his name and the magic word walk, the old Lab padded happily into the kitchen after his man.

"Buddy will like that. Greek deviled eggs. Italian deviled eggs. Mexican deviled eggs."

"Yes, dear," he said filling the day pack from the fridge while Buddy waited patiently at his feet.

"Crab stuffed deviled eggs. Real eggs are just so much more nutritious. Instead of all that chocolate for the kids."

"Nutritious," he echoed with an aside to Buddy, "For the coyotes and foxes and crows and coons."

Buddy pranced a bit in anticipation as Bill closed the refrigerator door and zipped the back pack.

"I just love Easter," she enthused as Bill and Buddy headed to the back door. "The kids do so enjoy dyeing eggs. Avocado Ranch deviled eggs." She hit the send button again and he could hear the printer spitting out yet another recipe for deviled eggs. "And they were so pretty."

"Yes. Very pretty," he said and snapped the leash onto the dog's collar. "They'll look very pretty indeed. Scattered in the pasture south of the neighborhood.

*   *   *

This bit of flash fiction is my piece for Days D and E in the 2018 A to Z Blogging Challenge for which I was too late to officially enter. So I'm just shadowing.

Technically, one is supposed to post a blog every day in April (except Sundays) and each post is supposed to be about something that begins with the letter for that day. April 1 was A, April 2 was B, and so on.

April Blogging Challenge

  

Today was  C Day in the 2018 April Blogging Challenge.
But Alas, I Belatedly Comprehended
that April had Begun and I Couldn't sign up.
Tomorrow will be D Day
Dammit.