Thursday, February 24, 2011

Sharks on Pennsylvania Avenue

Typical was this morning's meeting at the Commerce Department. On the white board, the chair scrawled an agenda. The goal is to persuade a group of countries to agree to a set of principled actions. First, we had to agree amongst ourselves, US government agencies. Remember, that the units within my agency have yet to discuss and reach consensus. We plan on doing that tomorrow. But the interagency meeting was today. A little reverse engineering is in order, I suppose. At the table, we reached a plan on how to plan next. Cookies and chocolates greased the oily wheels of bureaucracy. And as I left, rounding the corner, balanced in mid-air, impaled on a steel shaft, the model of a hammerhead shark hangs at an entrance to the Hoover building, an homage to the aquarium which occupies the lower floor. Dali could not have made a better statement.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Shadows in the light

The shadows in Grand Central Station #2 walk in the light. The yellow stone floor reflects the sun beaming through the windows. These, not the shadows of death. They, like in Haroun's Ocean of Notions, separate from the figures for which they provide perspective. Rolling along the glossy plane, elbows softened, footsteps muffled, tallness shrunk, sharpness smudged, what fear of darkness have we? When shadows are so bright?

(Grand Central Station #2 by Jim Campbell hangs on the third floor of the American Art Museum)

Monday, February 14, 2011

Computer literacy

I learned SAS and then forgot it. Ditto for SPSS. My friend's data collection still runs on a TurboPascal, the programmer just retired after 40 years of service. I have Stata envy, will I every knuckle down and learn it? One friend of mine complained Matematica was far too complicated; another said it was his professional lifeblood. Maybe I should sign up for a Drupal class. And then twice last week I coached colleagues through how to do sums in Excel. Literacy, numeracy, computeracy.....

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Street parlor

The big woman and the small woman embraced at the corner where Starbucks stands. It's cold, but neither has a coat. One has on a sweatshirt, the other a double layer of old flannel. A suit walks by. Some pumps sway by. A woolly cap and scarf stroll by. The two cross the street. Talking loudly, as if in their own parlor, almost singing, almost dancing, in their old shoes. A trench rushes by. Leggings and flats saunter by. The gloves and earmuffs amble by. The two nearly trip stepping up to the curb, a dizzying five inches off the ground. The fat one sits down on the bench under the bus shelter. The small one, still swaying, chanting takes her leave. The sidewalk is front and center for them, their stage, their receiving hall.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Winter rhythms

In the winter the sun falls quickly. Not too late in the afternoon, from the street you can see the office lights blink in the gloom and the street lamps switch on as the darkness rises. As I move along the sidewalk, the lamps keep rhythm like a double bass, punctuating space and time predictably, ever beautiful in regularity. Peeking through the intervals are the lit windows. This of the Castle. That of the Capitol. Dorothy Height’s pink turreted building along Pennsylvania. Then the shops, hotels, and restaurants. Tall and narrow, short and wide, square and round are the windows. And the things that cast shadows – the trees, the bushes, the newspaper boxes and trash cans, the parking sign posts that annoy the eye and soul during the day, become trills and turns, accessories to the melody, that decorate the beat of time passing, blink-blink, click-click, whoosh-swoosh into the spring.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

B&P between U&V

There’s no cure for middle age like heading to the hipsters’ hangout. Twice now I have journeyed (a few stops on the Green line) to Busboys and Poets – the branch along the U Street corridor, home to jazz clubs, night spots, and coolness all around. Once I went for the launch of a nifty new news channel on cable television. They wanted to demonstrate their stylish street cred and picked B&P to show it off. The second time I went to hear a friend play in a band. It sounds so groupie-ish, I know. But I am middle aged, and my friend – Music Minister by evening – is chief so-and-so of the inspector general’s office by day. Both times I arrived and there were lines out the door. The young people knew you had to arrive early (wear the right look, and so on) to get in. Twice I got turned away. Still, the chicken pizza there is good, even if you miss the TV show launch and the jazz session.