Consensus and diversity

A herd of high schoolers in leggings and printed T’s, with white baseball caps -- marked black and worn askew -- walk toward the Castle in the evening. Crossing the Mall in common uniform, a troop of senior ladies in solid-colored wind breakers, blue jeans, and white sneakers, hair curled, leather pocketbooks slung across their shoulders march to American History.

A Giver

I sit at a sidewalk table and he comes by, holding a handful of pansies plucked from the landscaping. He offers one to a lady, she smiles and accepts. There is a dignity in giving rather than begging. He offers one to me and I decline. We are neighbors, really. I know pansies are not sold in bouquets at the flower shop. Other neighbors of mine grow them, although they are as faceless as a name plate on a building. What is right? What is kind? What matters, really?

Senior spring

A sky blue VW Beetle with the white top down. A pintuck suit with bright bow tie. A posey of roses tied to the dash. Going 70 in the city never was so good.

Ketchup fight

At luncheon, I carry my tray of salad, chicken fingers, ice water and root beer to the condiments table. Pulling a toggle squirts ketchup, mustard or mayo into mini cups. As I dispensed both yellow and red sauce, a small girl ran up beside me. Ringlet hair pulled back, clad in a sweater jumper, matching tights and Mary Janes, she stretched out her short arms between the tall glasses of water and root beer. May I have some? pointing to the ketchup. Myself a veteran of many spilled glasses, I quickly pulled my tray back and away. . . let me make this easy for you. As I turned, the cashier grinned at me. He and I both knew, had there been a tussle, no one would have sympathized with me. The kid had all the charm, and now she had her condiments.

Trading favors

International organizations (IO) are endless warrens of subcommittees. Between heads of state, the US-UK relationship is all warmth and richness. Both affinities and tensions, however, play out deep in the bureaucracy. The UK approached at the top of the meeting. Would I support him regarding two agenda items inexpertly handled by the IO? Yes, my home capital had also been annoyed. On a third item, I stood alone in my objection, arguing too much interference in national affairs. At the coffee, the UK expressed regret that my agency head had cancelled at the very last minute an important conference by London. The cancellation had been too late to avoid hotel and airline charges. All I could do was apologize. No wonder I was alone on the third. Until at a side meeting, the UK joins on the third item, quietly. On Day 2, item 2 is up. UK and I guess France may be with us. Turns out France has not read the paper, has no idea of what is going on. When the meeting opens, after a few friendly interventions, I against, then the UK against, and then, France against, just. In the evening, I approach Japan and Korea and encourage them to contribute to provide balance to the European-centered discussion. The US, both a Pacific as well as an Atlantic power.

Blossom Guard

Bombs explode in the Moscow subway. In DC, guards appear in the metro system. Outside the Smithsonian station stands a burly officer, all muscle and navy uniform, shades and stocking cap. Cherry blossom tourists crowd around him. He has POLICE stitched in yellow across his chest. Which museum has the First Ladies’ gowns? Tattoos curl up his forearm and biceps. Where’s the nearest bathroom? His belt is encircled in pockets. I imagine them full of backup grenades. Where can we get a candy bar?