I walked toward the Washington Monument, 555 ft. of straight-up granite, sandstone and marble. It so dominates the scene that you are naturally drawn to it. This is big scale stuff, and very bright in color if the sun is out, which it still was, although already dropping toward horizon.
But I first came upon the new WW II Memorial, so I diverted in to see that. Again, a big-scale monument, all done in bright-colored granite, so that low sun was giving it a little more pinkish cast than the Washington. A big oval pool and fountain, a large stone block open tower on either side representing Atlantic and Pacific, and a series of squarish granite columns, one for each state, ringing the whole thing. Lots and lots of bronze wreaths and plaques and relief panels depicting war-related scenes, both on the battlefield and on the home front. And several quotes from famous war-related people, like an excerpt from the FDR' "...date which will live in infamy" speech chiseled into the rock.
From there I was drawn back further away from the Washington, along the reflecting pool toward the west to to the Lincoln Memorial. The area was not crowded at all, being a weekday and with night approaching. Before going up the steps to see Ol' Abe, I walked around the backside of the memorial, and it helps to drive home just how big this thing is
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White Georgia marble. The columns that ring it are maybe 50 ft. high. The sun was even lower now and the rock was getting even more colorful. When I raised the camera to take a shot, the kid in the yellow shirt spotted me and decided my picture needed some hip hop bravado.
I circled around front and up the steps, which are huge. Abe is huge, the walls are huge, the Gettysburg Address is huge. It's all so grand. The steps are a great place to sit and people watch. The people were animated, energetic. Lots of school groups. A small flock of geese flew into the reflecting pond and stirred up the refection of The George. Grand.
Still not quite dark, so I stroll some more, to the north, past just a handful of large trees and I am at the Viet Nam Veterans Memorial. I had been there once before, when we took the kids and spent a few days doing what Americans do in D.C. We saw all of these monuments and more on that trip. I still remember being most affected by this one, and it was no different this time. At this point it was dusk, no more sunbeams or glow, which contrasted what I was just seeing moments ago.
The design of this structure is such a drastic departure from the typical Capitol motif. Small, finite, dark and stark. Cut into a small grassy mound, not perched on a hill or surrounded by gardens. No columns, fountains, steps or statutes. Just a long, low bent wall of black Indian granite slabs, maybe 10 ft. high at their highest. And 58,159 etched names. It really hits you. People file along slowly, saying little. Not a lot of smiling, definitely some tears. Lots of flowers and mementos left at the base. The granite is polished so you can see your reflection but you are just a dark silhouette with hundreds of names superimposed. I did not lose any family members or even close friends in that war, in fact I really didn't even know anyone who was killed. But it immediately brought me back to that time. I remember being petrified when I found out there was going to be a draft lottery and my name was going into the hat. Lottery numbers were drawn that year (1973) for draftees to be taken the following year, but I got a high number and the actual drafting stopped that same year anyway so it was a moot point.
It was now dark on the ground and the sky was right behind, so I headed back to the car. The ball fields were empty. For a short distance I was walking near near three guys, 30-somethings in ball uniforms walking along the sidewalk, in after-game mode and carrying a big cooler. Their conversation sounded lawyer-like. I started envisioning them as West Wingers. Maybe I watch too much TV.
1 comment:
mm, DC, my absolute favorite city in the world, as you know. I can never see the monuments too many times, they move me each and every time.
I remember John telling me about the year of the lottery and how scared he and all his friends were. They sat, listening to the numbers being drawn over the radio, in a dark room drinking scotch, praying their number would not be called. John never had to go he was so far down the list. But two if his friends did. It was a bad night for them all.
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