When you go from Penn Station in New York to Union Station in Washington, D.C., you go from one of the ugliest stations in America to one of the most beautiful.
New York’s Penn Station is downright depressing. I like to quote Vincent Scully, who compared the old Penn Station with the new (and present). I’m not talking about the veteran and legendary sports announcer, Vin Scully; I’m talking about the veteran and legendary architectural historian, Vincent Scully, of Yale.
He said, “One entered the city like a god. One scuttles in now like a rat.”
‐The Capitol Dome is covered with scaffolding. It doesn’t look like itself. When the repairs will be done, I don’t know.
It’s necessary, of course — and the work will be done in the blink of an eye, relatively. But I feel sorry for people who have one chance to see the dome, and find it covered in scaffolding.
‐The Heritage Foundation has its own building. The American Enterprise Institute, I understand, is getting a building of its own.
Maybe someone, sometime, would like to buy or bequeath lil’ old National Review a building?
A humble suggestion . . .
‐Inside Heritage is a Lehrman Auditorium. I assume it was paid for by Lew Lehrman, that author of many good works.
One of them, he could not quite pull off — the defeat of Mario Cuomo in 1982. Lehrman was the Republican gubernatorial nominee, running against the incumbent lieutenant governor, Cuomo. The Democrat won by a small margin. He went on to win two more elections.
If Sweet Lew had managed to nip Mario in the bud, there probably wouldn’t be a Governor Cuomo (Andrew) today.
Anyway . . .
‐I am amazed to walk through Chinatown — D.C., I’m talkin’, not New York. When I lived in this city years ago, I didn’t like going to Chinatown in the daytime. It was not just seedy but dangerous, violent. Now it’s all spiffed up, virtually posh.
Wow.
‐Washington in general is far cleaner, more affluent, and spiffier than when I lived here. Sometimes things go in the right direction. (Even politically?)
‐At an intersection, a bus driver is trying to make a lefthand turn, and a taxi cab is stopped too far out at the relevant light.
Can you picture it? It doesn’t matter.
The bus driver calls out, “Hey, cuz, you may want to back up a little bit.”
That’s a new one on me: “Hey, cuz!” I like it, a lot. The bus driver and the cabbie are not related. And I’m pretty sure the cabbie doesn’t understand . . .
‐I cannot walk on Pennsylvania Avenue, in front of the White House. I don’t know whether that’s a new rule or something odd for this particular day.
In the first Clinton term, this stretch of Pennsylvania Avenue was closed (permanently) to traffic. (Vehicular traffic, I mean.) This was thought, by some, to be a great defeat and cave-in, to the forces of darkness. In 1996, Bob Dole was the Republican presidential nominee, and he pledged to reopen Pennsylvania Avenue. Never got a chance.
When my people — Nordlingers — were roaming D.C., you could walk up to the front door of the White House and knock on it. My great-grandfather had his shop nearby, at 13th and F. He once sent FDR a pair of cufflinks. Got a nice letter in return.
I realize things change. I also realize there are trade-offs, between liberty and security. Every adult understands that.
A lot has to be borne, as we guard against and combat the forces of darkness. I don’t like taking my shoes off at the airport. A lot of people blame the government, and maybe they’re right. I’m more apt to blame the damn terrorists.
In fact, I’d like to rub my shoes in their faces (because we know how much they love other people’s shoes, touching them).
‐Through the “back door,” I get to Lafayette Park, or Lafayette Square, I guess I should call it — the park across from the White House. I’m kind of amazed at how it looks: pristine, beautiful.
I remember when I was a college student in D.C. (for a semester). Lafayette Square was a permanent Left encampment, and therefore a dump. There were tent people. There was constant noise, filth, and ugliness. Reagan was being blamed for AIDS, homelessness, and everything else you could think of.
Maybe Lafayette Park is nice and clean when a Democrat is president and a dump when a Republican is in?
Today, there is one group, in a corner, with a banner: National COSH. Later, I Google: the National Council for Occupational Safety and Health. Okay.
In the middle of the square, at the edge of Pennsylvania Avenue, there is a clutch of protesters. They have a kind of exhibit, and a banner. I step out onto the street to get a look. A policewoman says I am forbidden to set foot on the street. Okay.
I see what the protesters are up to anyway: Gitmo, nuclear war, etc. They are a typical Left crowd. And, naturally, they’re screaming.
Not far away, someone else is screaming, or yelling, by himself. He has a ponytail, plus a guitar strapped to his back.
There were a lot of men like this back in my hometown, Ann Arbor (Michigan). Frankly, it was a lot better if they had the guitar strapped to their back than if they played it.
‐The National Portrait Gallery, I see, is advertising itself with a portrait of Elvis. Elvis, still? I guess he draws ’em in more than, say, Martha Washington ever could . . .
‐In Italy, they don’t have families anymore. In many European countries, they don’t have families anymore. Those nations are dying, literally. Do we still have families?
I see a lot of them in D.C., visiting. It’s heartwarming to see them. Where else in America can you see so many families? Disney World, probably.
‐In a recent “Istanbul Journal,” I had the following melancholy lines — or are they merely realistic?
Everyone has his turn, I guess. The Egyptians had their turn — their period of world glory. The Greeks had their turn. The Romans. The Ottomans.
Will people be traipsing around the U.S. Capitol and the White House, being told by guides that this was once a great civilization, a great democratic civilization, to which people from all corners of the earth wanted to come, to be something called “American”?
I guess so.
Here on the Mall, it’s easy for me to imagine the World War II Memorial as a ruins. (A “ruin”?) Very easy. It looks kind of Forum-like anyway — you know? Unpleasant to think about, regardless.
One of the most sobering sights I ever saw was the Temple of Artemis, or Diana, at Ephesus. It was just a dusty nothing. Kind of a nasty, garbagey sight, actually. Storks were nesting on a remaining column. This place was once one of the Seven Wonders of the World. People used to journey for weeks and months to see it. The sight of it might crown their lives.
Anyway . . .
‐As I approach the Lincoln Memorial, a person is addressing a small crowd over a PA system. It’s loud, really loud. And the closer you get, of course, the louder it gets.
I’m not big on regulations, but I think there ought to be a limit — a limit to PA decibels on the Mall. I’ve been to the Lincoln Memorial many times, and hope I will go many times more.
But what about the person for whom this is the only visit, in a lifetime? Should he have his visit marred by this loud, loud speechifying?
It turns out that the cause is good, though. The speaker — speakers, actually — are from WANMAD, i.e., Women Across the Nation, Making a Difference. These are black mothers, basically, who are sick and tired of seeing their children killed in “black-on-black violence.”
Their desires are fairly simple: “We want to go to graduations.” They want to see their children live. It doesn’t get more basic, or anguished, than that.
I wonder whether Sharpton & Co. support rallies like this one on the Mall. When a white policeman shoots a black citizen, everyone in the universe knows about it. How about the other shootings and deaths? When do #BlackLivesMatter? Only when white cops take them?
‐Behind the Lincoln Memorial, there are grand, classic equestrian statues. Each is “A Gift from the People of Italy to the People of the United States.” Those statues look Italian, I think. Right out of Central Casting.
But hang on: The sculptors are good old Amurricans: Leo Friedlander and James Earle Fraser.
Huh.
‐If I ever saw the Seabees’ memorial, outside Arlington Cemetery, I don’t remember it. I have a feeling it’s new(ish). It’s wonderful.
“Seabees Can Do,” it says. A Seabee, bear in mind, is a member of the U.S. Naval Construction Forces. Their motto is “Construimus, Batuimus.” In other words, “We build. We fight.” Their less formal motto, however, is “Can do.”
The memorial says, “With willing hearts and skillful hands, the difficult we do at once. The impossible takes a bit longer.”
It also says, “With compassion for others, we build, we fight for peace with freedom.”
Ah, yes — peace with freedom. Perfect. In my history of the Nobel Peace Prize, I have sort of an essay on peace — a meditation on peace. The uses and abuses of the concept of peace.
I adapted this essay for National Review. Find it here.
“Thatcher liked a slogan,” I note: That slogan was “Peace — with freedom and justice.”
Lincoln ended his Second Inaugural Address with a call for a “just and lasting peace.” That is perfect too: a peace that is just and lasting.
That inaugural address, as you know, is engraved on a wall of the Lincoln Memorial.
‐I know it’s been a long time — almost 35 years. I should have been reconciled to it by now. The whole nation loves the Vietnam Memorial, apparently. It’s a treasured national site.
I’m sorry, but it’s still a black slab of shame. It is a disgrace. I don’t think I’ll ever be reconciled to it. Phyllis Schlafly called it “a tribute to Jane Fonda.” It is. It’s the Left’s view of Vietnam, in stone.
Anyway . . .
‐There is a new museum on the Mall: the National Museum of African-American History and Culture. It’s almost done and will open sometime next year, I think.
I’m of two minds about this museum. I think that the experience of African Americans, or black Americans, should be honored. I also think that it’s part and parcel of American history.
The National Museum of American History is right near by. The African-American Museum is separate. It’s like a permanent February.
It will be heavily visited, however, just as Black History Month is widely celebrated.
‐Out of various mouths, I hear one name: “Caitlyn Jenner.” Has one person’s, or one family’s, lust for fame ever been so great? Or so satisfied? Can this particular national freak show end sometime soon?
I think of a (controversial) phrase from Pat Moynihan: “benign neglect.” That’s what all things Jenner (and Kardashian?) need: benign neglect.
Consider this little D.C. journal a distraction! Thanks for joining me, everybody, and see you.