I'm getting ready for a trip to Washington DC next week. Though most of the trip will be business-related, I never visit our nation's capital without invoking time-worn routines. I make time to see Clarissa, a friend from graduate school, where the conversation just picks up from the last time we had a meal together. And I'm having breakfast with Sidney, a former colleague from my museum days. Like Clarissa, he leads an extremely interesting life as a painter, author and (new avocation) jazz singer. There are a couple of other good colleagues like Susan and Pete that I'm also going to catch up with.
And then there is the city itself. When he still ran the public affairs show at the Hirshhorn Museum, Sidney used to take me to lunch at the Smithsonian Castle on the Mall. I'll still be on the Mall, walking to visit my old haunts -- the Vietnam Memorial, then the Lincoln Memorial, then to see the new Martin Luther King Memorial that is not as easy to walk to as the others. Finally, a couple of hours in The Phillips Collection will round things out nicely. There's both a Braque show and one of the Ellsworth Kelly exhibits on view.
I can't wait!
When I wrote today's post for the other blog, I was thinking of my friend Jenny. We've been pals for over 25 years. She is a person who knows how to listen and observe actively and, at the same time, to remember to take care of herself. She's not on Facebook, probably never will be, so I'm posting here to send early birthday greetings.
With our respective calendars, we see each other probably only a couple of times a year since she moved away from the neighborhood. That makes each time we do meet even more special: no posturing, no complaining, no bragging. I can remember almost every one of the conversations we've ever had because they represent our shared attempt to understand ourselves and the world better. Her own blog represents what she calls "Reflections on an Intentional Life."
I should note that Jen's the one who encouraged me to sign up for my two 60 mile walks to raise money for breast cancer. She's still doing those annual walks, sometimes walking, sometimes cooking, but she's still making her mark.
Happy birthday, Jen!
"All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful..."
The Old English hymn seems appropriate on such a morning. The weather has made it easy to live in the present and, as William Blake said, "to see the world in a grain of sand."
So I write from a condition of profound gratitude for all that makes up my life: family and friends, colleagues and students, a comfortable home, enough work and thought to last a lifetime.
