Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Sitting here in Austin, TX on a sweltering day in May, it's hard to believe that a couple of evenings ago I was wandering, sweater clad, around the harbor in Annapolis, MD. Dozens of spotless white Naval uniforms wander the streets filled with aspiring young officers whose ink on their high school diploma isn't even dry yet. Here is a young man showing his parents around and trying to convince his mother that he's never been in that bar. Dad's walking a couple of steps behind and looks like he singlehandedly deprived a local merchant of his entire stock of Navy gear. There's a group of five sharing a bench, some exaggerated tales, and cheap cigars. Over to the right is a black lady, mid 40's, alone with her headphones, facing the water, dancing a waltz with an imaginary partner. (Looks like he's leading) I wonder for a moment at what point in my life did I trade my imagination in for inhibition. She apparently passed on that offer. The narrow streets invite me to wander down an alley toward the harmonious hum escaping from the doorway of the "Treaty of Paris" pub. Inside I find a packed house, steins and mugs held high, and a chorus of "What do ya do with a drunken sailor" is in full swing. (Put a lobster in his britches, way hay up he rises, earl-ey in the mornin..) Everyone knows the words. I get no farther than the doorway. They don't seem to notice one more body so I stay for the rest of the song. It's hard not to stand there, leaning against the century old doorframe, grinning like a landlubber. The night is now growing cold, so I head back to the car. On the way I pass a man loading a couple of grocery bags into a boat the size of a bathtub. The dark water looks unforgiving and with some sense of concern I say, "Need some help?" He says no. He's just heading home. Where's home, I ask. He point to the center of the harbor where a good number of sailboats are anchored randomly and roughly 20 yards from each other in any direction. Each one has a small boat attached to it. I realize that this is a small city on the sea. I watch him putter out into the harbor and navigate his way through the maze of masts. He disappears in the dark and only then do I realize that I'm humming outloud. The young sailor with his lass on the bench behind me is too enamored with his prize to notice that I found my imagination again.

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Took a long flight to Norfolk on Sunday to speak at a conference. Josh L picked me up at the hotel and we hit the VA Beach area for some excellent seafood and conversation. I took a midnight tour of Regent University and while we're wandering around gawking at the buildings (that would be me) I notice what appears to be a small dog not far away. Turns out to be a fox, and not just one. Well lit fountains and foxes. Nice.
Headed to Richmond Monday evening and, on the way, stopped and wandered around Williamsburg with the digital camera. Again, gawking. When a new house is only 120 years old, you know you're in some fine country. With Sears Vinyl siding NOWHERE in sight, I was soaking in the history of Yorktown, Jamestown, and ALLLL that 'so and so died here' and 'so and so died there'. At the Richmond conference I was pleased to hang out with some wonderful people like the two federal agents and the guy from the legal dept of Phillip Morris (there's the job not to have right now).
Heading north, I arrived just south of DC in time to catch a quick meal and the last episode of the Amazing Race, which I haven't seen at all until now. I was choked up. Great moment when they're trying to beg for money from passers by to pay the cab driver when the finish line and a million bucks is a hundred feet away.
Today in Washington, DC was highlighted by an airplane that flew into the no fly zone and threw the city into a fit. I just happen to get in on all the action. OH YES. Homeland security evacuations? I'm there! I got to the Capitol Hotel and took off on foot to see some sights. Kenneth Cole shoes don't make for comfy walkers folks. After the 5th mile or so I began to wish I had taken the car. Sitting on the lawn between the Washington Monument and 1600 Pennsylvania Ave, I took in an outdoor show put on by the military called the Twilight Tattoo. It was wonderful and moving. Cannons going off, the band playing, and rifles being thrown into the air with surgical precision. What's not to love? After all of the memorials what stands out? While Lincoln at night was breathtaking, the hidden treasure for me was stumbling across the Korean Memorial after the sun went down. Statues of a squadron lurking through the brush are in front of an amazing wall carved with hundreds of faces in great detail. The jawdropping thing about this is the way they light it at night. A couple of small pen size spotlights on the ground in front of each statue light them with just enough emphasis that it makes you wonder if they're real. When you come in from behind all you see are the tiny lights on the ground and not the statues that they're shining on so you walk right by them without regarding their presence and head toward the wall to check it out. It isn't until you turn around that the statue squad of nearly two dozen appears out of nowhere. It's so spooky that it catches you and for a moment you're in Korea. You feel like an enemy who is about to be overrun and you just might lose that dim sum you had for dinner. Man it was cool.
So much more to write but that'll do for now...