The Bridge Keepers

I've got an acquaintance that I keep in touch with periodically from afar.  When I first met him, he was teaching firefighting, and the second time we met he was drinking a Corona spiked with grenadine, which given the pink color I found quite out of character.  At any rate, that aspect of his personality is not the only surprise that was in store for me.  He also has proven himself to be quite a philosopher, and a few months ago he pointed me in the direction of this little gem.

We are the Bridgemen, connecting one era to another.

This quote, which I think is an excellent description of people of my vintage and even a little younger, popped into my head this evening as I was making one of my more standard training loops on the long path to the Pilgrimage.  As I approached the one mile point, I came across this.  I'm not sure why this triggered thoughts back to Mr. Grenadine Corona's quote because I walk past this routinely, but tonight it struck me because this image that I see just about every day manifests what I hope to be the truth of the quote above.

12 m Satellite Ground Station

This 12 m Satellite Ground Station has been used since the late 1980's to train midshipmen at the United States Naval Academy in a number of Astronautical Engineering topics and conducted communications with numerous GEO and LEO satellites, the Space Shuttle, and the International Space Station (ISS).  Since travelling to the moon, the manned space program world wide has been kept largely confined to LEO, and I'm hopeful that change is coming to stretch our legs again.  I will likely not be able to participate in the next steps of manned space exploration, but I understand the draw and the call to go where we haven't yet gone. 

Severn River Bridge

We are the bridgemen, and we are entrusted to maintain the path toward the next steps for the generations that will follow.  It's possible that my recent sense of consolidation and waiting is part of this broader generational story, but probably not.  It is good to be reminded that there is a great deal of work left to accomplish if we are to realize our potential as a species.

Bringing Balance to Your Being...Oh, Look a Squirrel

Today was another consolidation day.  A consolidation day is one of those days or weeks or months or even years when things feel like they are just not moving anywhere very quickly.  There is motion all around, but it's short motion, and it is not directed in any sort of noticeably coherent manner.  Quite frankly, I was a little bit worried about what I should say in the daily column, so on the early morning walk I started looking for something funny or spiritual or entertaining to snap a daily photo and then spend the rest of the day slowly piecing together the text that would add the profundity to the pixels.

Every bit of that last sentence (with the possible exception of the profundity bit) is generally how the process has been working over the last several weeks.  Minutes into my walk, I noticed that the breeze was unusually calm, and the water of the Anacostia River were about as smooth as I have ever seen them.  There was a crew from one of the several rowing clubs just upriver from the Riverfront Park area that was out practicing.  You could hear the slice of their shell through the water, and it reminded me of early Sunday morning waterskiing at the east end of Broad Bay off of Lynnhaven Inlet in Virginia Beach.  It was a holy hour before the chop had been put on the water by other boaters and breeze, and the clean swishing sizzle of the boat across the top of the water made everything seem right with the world.  Balance could be found with a 60 hp outboard and the right time of day.  That was the same type of calm that I sensed this morning on the Anacostia.  The mirror images of everything near the river demonstrated the flatness of the river, and this is what it looked like.

ex-USS Barry reflected in the Anacostia River

At the time I knew I was forcing it, but I hoped to be able to come up with something profound to say about the balance and serenity.  Something deep and spiritual and meaningful.  Because I was forcing it, unsurprisingly, that's not what happened at all.

Fortunately I was saved from the unpleasant and probably unfruitful task later on in the afternoon during my second walk for the day.  You guessed it I...Oh look, a squirrel.

Albino Squirrel (Front View)

Not only did I spot a squirrel, I spotted an albino squirrel.  This guy was an attention grabber, and by the way he reacted to the camera I suspect he'd been given quite a bit of camera time by the folks out and about on the Washington, DC Mall.

Albino Squirrel (profile view)

Apparently, sightings of albino grey squirrels are relatively common in Washington, DC, but this is the first one that I've ever seen.  This is the guy you can thank for ensuring that today's entry was not some ponderous overly sappy segment of life balance and the oneness of the universe.  There will be plenty of those I'm sure, bur for now I'll just celebrate this unusual squirrel sighting.

I Won't Do That...or a Commitment to the Unlikely

I was looking down at my feet this morning after sitting down from my walk, and I noticed that I had done something that I suspect was a social faux pas that I promised all powers in the universe that I would never commit myself.  What was this heinous offense, you may ask.  As I glanced down at the source of my bipedal locomotion, I realized that I had become the slightly doughy 40'ish man that wore black 3/4 calf socks with athletic shoes and shorts.  This development was shocking enough that if begged to be captured for all posterity.  Here is what I saw.

White athletic kicks, 3/4 calf black socks, and by the hair of my legs you can easily see I am wearing this horrid combination with shorts.  It's either that, or I don't have any pants on which is a situation to terrifying to imagine, but since I mentioned it, you'll find it mostly impossible to keep the thought from crossing your mind...I hope.

About the only redeeming feature of this sad state of affairs is the fact that the socks are pushed down a bit and not hiked up in the fashion that has become associated with this terrible habit by males of my particular vintage.

This situation is something I promised myself that, "I won't do that."  Clearly that was a commitment to the unlikely.  Thinking about the sox, shoes and shorts resulted in thoughts of other things that I had decided as a youth not to do.  There were very good reasons this morning for becoming the cliche that I'd vowed to avoid, and the practicality of the decision outweighed any embarrassment I might have felt on this issue 25 or 30 years ago.  I'd like to think that I'd "grown up" a little since I first made the unlikely pledge.

Sadly, embarrassment and anxiety caused me to not do a number of other things in my youth that I probably have grown out of as well.  If I had things to do all over again, I would probably do things just a bit differently.  Here's a short list for those youths that might come across these musings for your consideration.

1.  I would have asked more girls to dance.  It would not matter to me if they said no because they were popular and I was not.  I'll never know the opportunities that I may have let slip through my fingers for fear (yes, fear) of being told, "No."

2.  I would have been friendlier with my peers who participated in the Future Farmers of America.  There are number of reasons for both my unwarranted rudeness as well as a number of reasons why it was an utterly undefendable stance.  This topic is probably worth a whole post on its own, so remind me about down the road and I'll share my insights.

3.  I would have been more daring in my choice of clothing, and I'm not just talking about wearing black socks with shorts and sneakers.  Nothing says confident like a bright pink tie and a royal blue shirt, and I allowed myself to discover this eye catching combination a bit earlier in my outfitting "career."

4.  Did I mention that I would have asked more girls to dance, and by more I mean all of them.  I would have asked them all to hold my hand and walk in the rain as well.  I had nothing to lose and so much to gain.

It's not too late for me yet (as evidenced by my nod to practicality exhibited in the picture above), but the runway is likely considerably shorter than it was 30 years ago.  Don't do what I did.  Live boldly, and don't take yourself too seriously.  That said, tomorrow I think I'll make a little extra effort to remember to bring the long pants.

A Brief Contemplation of People

Today during my afternoon walk, I found my mind wandering around on the topic of people.  I'm not really sure what started this train of thought, but as soon as it took off I knew it was going to be an interesting journey.  One of the potential goals that Rory and I have during the course of the TCP is to really get to know interesting people.  When I read that last sentence, I'm struck by just how absurd it is because everyone, and I mean everyone I've ever met is endlessly fascinating and interesting.  There is absolutely no need to walk from Newport, RI to Newport, OR in order to meet interesting people.

In fact, just today on a less than four mile walk, I encountered a seemingly endless variety of humanity.  To describe them would be a deceit because frankly I know very little about any of them apart from their outward physical appearance.  This shallowest of surface views would be an injustice to even attempt to articulate when dealing with beings so complex that a single individual would be impossible to completely characterize if one took a lifetime attempting the task.

A sampling of the people I encountered on my walk today.

As I walked near these people, I found myself inventing narratives about what they were thinking and speculating as to why they did certain things that I saw.  I created whole cloth out of the imaginings in my head narratives to describe what I saw.  The traveller in the straw hat and blue shirt, the group of three friends headed back from their lunch, the lone thinker dealing with a particularly vexing issue in the park, the crane rigger heading back to work in a slightly weary way after a lunch break that was far too short, the Navy boys collaborating to implement the latest submarine design, the man walking in the floral print hat that his late wive had given him, the couple visiting Washington and not really enjoying their afternoon because of a late season uptick in heat, the Peace Corps volunteer returning from his latest assignment in Panama, and the lonely woman out walking her dogs and hoping for just the slightest contact from another of her fellow travellers.

All of those thoughts seemed very plausible, and some of the even took on the characteristics of being reality. I haven't the faintest idea if any of those small fictions were close to their reality, but I know that they were very much a part of my own.  The fact that my thoughts, however unknown to these people, had somehow become a part of their reality and at least in part were manifested upon them by me almost automatically was a sobering realization.

There are aspects of our collective separateness as well as clear evidence of our oneness that I find mind bendingly powerful.

I'm grateful for these people and the richness they added to my day.

Another Day of Surprises

I'm beginning to think that I'm going to have to come up with a new topic, or at the very least, a new series of titles.  Needless to say, today once again did not turn out as planned.  That "unique" event associated with a helicopter and the U.S. Capitol I told you about yesterday.  Well, it appears it is not so nearly as rare as I imagined, since it happened again this morning.

Helicopter on the Capitol Plaza

As I was being shooed away from the scene of what I later learned was the second of two days of emergency response drills, I decided to exercise just a tiny little bit of civil disobedience and question the Capitol Police Officer who was doing the shooing.  When I asked, "Why can't I walk through the plaza?" in my normal fashion I was initially responded to with a shrug and vague arm waving in the general direction of the helicopter.  Since the rotors weren't turning, I sensed no immediate danger and said, "I can see the helicopter, but I want to know why I can't walk toward it.  I don't think asking why is an unreasonable request."  At that point he started moving in my general direction giving every indication that I might be on the receiving end of some zip cuffs rather than an answer, so I skedaddled. 

None of that was what I expected when I woke up this morning, but the little jolt of adrenaline it caused was a welcome boost of energy, and I didn't end up in zip cuffs.

During my lunchtime walk, I was minding my own business when a series of relief sculptures caught my attention and brought my mind back to my freshman and sophomore years in college.

A Midsommer Nights Dream Relief Sculpture

Back during those heady days, "Doc" White, with his unique perspective and teaching style that challenged us pie eyed freshman to challenge our assumptions and start seeing our circumstances for what they were rather than swallowing the narrative that was being fed to us had me convinced that it would be a good idea to double major in English as well as Mechanical Engineering.  That coupled with the fact that, had I been successful, I would have graduated with a B.S. in English made it seem like the pursuit might be worth the work.

That notion was soundly removed from the list of some of my other ambitious goals when I encountered the last of the "Four Horsemen" of the Mechanical Engineering Department as my Dynamics professor.  I'm not sure what he was professing, but let's just say that I was near the top of the class with an exam average that was hovering around 65%.  It was tough, and the amount of reading and writing for my "extra" English classes was consuming vast quantities of what I liked to call time.

Before dropping my pursuit of a B.S. in English, I did work my way through two semesters of Shakespearean studies.  I learned among other things that Bill S. was a rabble rouser and bit of a rogue, inventing new words from thin air and then weaving them into a bawdy verbal "tapestry that was brilliant in color and blinding in intensity" (Patrick F. McManus, whom if you haven't read his short stories, I highly recommend them).  Bill S. was also a man of the people writing plays to entertain.  Through all of that he became a giant of English literature and culture to the extent that the Folger Shakespeare Library is a prominent landmark along the walking route that I frequent.

I didn't expect that a landmark I pass every day would evoke this kind of freewheeling mind dance, and I don't know why it triggered it today.  I also don't know if I made the right decision some 22 odd years ago in applying most of my focus on the Engineering trade rather than the study of literature.  What I do know, is that my life and my walk today were richer for the fortunate synchronicity of both of those events separated by a two decade time gap.

I'm grateful for "Doc" White and the impression he made that I fondly remembered today.

Plans and Expectations Thwarted

I closed out the month in terms of walking on a high note.  The goal for August 2015 was to average ten miles per day of deliberate training walks.  Compared to July of this year it was supposed to be a relative cakewalk.  What I went into thinking would be a "restful" month ended up being quite tiring, and I'm not quite sure why.  It was one of those expectations of the outcome of a well plotted plan that did not play out in reality the way my vision thirty one days ago formed.

That being said, I closed out the month with 310.83 miles of deliberate training, so the target of the scheme was achieved, and though I perceive that I'm more tired now than when I started, it was a good month.

Given the idea that my plans and expectations for the month were generally thwarted by reality, it is fitting that this morning's walk turned out to be nothing like what I imagined.  Being Monday, I had become accustomed to getting in at least six miles in the morning and more frequently than not getting in seven.  That's the nature of the Monday morning routine at work because our first meeting does not start till 8 am.  Every other day of the week we have to be seated and ready to go by 7:30, so that extra half hour translates into additional distance or a at least bit more time to get ready to face the day.

I got started a little bit late because I overslept.  Sometimes I ask myself if sleeping till 4:26 am should really be considered oversleeping.  As much as I'd like to say, "no it is not," I'm forced to admit that since it is outside the discipline of my Daily Practice the tardiness must be evaluated as oversleeping.  That being said, I was still looking good for getting in my goal of six miles until I noticed that the Capitol Police were setting up a perimeter around the U.S. Capitol Building the likes of which I have never experienced.

It's worth noting, that I have spent hundreds of hours at various times of the day around the Capitol Building over the last year or so.  This perimeter was something different.  There were a noteworthy number of additional officers visible, at least two canine units of active patrol, more police vehicles than I've ever seen, caution tape, and who knows what else.  My walking route passes in close proximity to the south side of the building on the way out, and I was gently herded with the rest of the early morning ambulators farther out than I normally go.  At that point I decided to cross the Mall and head up the north side before the perimeter got any bigger.  I was able to take my normal route up the north side of the building, but as I passed my usual landmarks I observed the thin blue line steadily expanding in my direction to heard folks to the north.

I'd escaped just in time, and as I was turning up East Capitol Street facing the mild defeat of only putting in five miles, instead of the usual six or seven, I became aware of the distinct sound of the rotor chop of a Sikorsky UH-1 helicopter.  It's a pretty unique sound and unmistakable once you've associated the auditory track with the equipment.  The UH-1 is the helicopter prominently featured in movies about the Vietnam War.  Modernization of that airframe has done a great many things, but changing the distinctive Whop Whop Whop of the rotors is not one of them.

This particular mechanical bird was decked out in Homeland Security colors, and was making a slow approach over the top of the Supreme Court building.  I thought to myself, "Self, there is no way that helicopter is going to land on the grounds of the Capitol building.  This thought proved once again that I probably shouldn't try to earn my living as a medium or soothsayer because landing in the Capitol building plaza was exactly what it did.  I was even able to snap a picture or two, and have included the best of the lot right here.

Helicopter that's landed in the plaza of the Capitol building

I know this is not the best photographic evidence of this event, but if you squint just right, you can see the helicopter sitting at the end and across the walkway nearly in the dead center of this photograph.

I've never seen anything like this before, and I suspect that it's a pretty rare occurrance.  Even though my plans for the morning had been thwarted, and my expectations for my walk went unrealized, the universe somehow conspired to show me something that I'd never seen before.  I'm grateful for that experience.  I'm also grateful that it gave me something to describe that I hope you find slightly interesting.  I know I did, and it solved the problem of coming up with a topic to write about this evening.

Tomorrow begins a new month, and though I have a few plans and expectations perhaps it will be better to be patient and see what new gifts will be placed before me.

Sentinel on the Severn

Today appeared to be another relatively uneventful day.  It's actually difficult to characterize just what's going on, but I think the best way to describe things is a sense of consolidation.  I don't feel like I'm really making much progress, and I don't think I'm falling behind.  There's movement, but it's not particularly deliberate in any direction.  I'm marking time, standing post, spearing a fish every now and then, but largely just awaiting direction.

Sentinel on the Severn

These are the type of time periods when I find that managing my willfulness becomes a bit difficult.  I find it challenging to decide where the time has matured to the point that I should do something to gain a little momentum and steerage or if I should just continue to wait.  At the end of the day, it probably does not matter much which path I choose to pursue, but these are the times of uncertainty.  The times of questioning motives.

Perhaps I'll take my cue from the heron.  Today, he was content with standing as a sentinel on the Severn.  He flew when I got too close, but he returned to his post almost immediately upon my departure.  He stood and waited and allowed the grey day unfold.  It's a good enough approach for now, and we'll see what unfolds tomorrow.  Marking time at thirteen miles per day.