Power was a big deal in my family's values, and during my lifetime, for better or worse, no place symbolized both national power and world hegemony so much as the District of Columbia.
Father often waxed eloquent on his own proximity to the reins of power, as a U.S. Air Force intelligence officer in the Office of Special Investigations (OSI) and several times as an employee just across the Potomac River from Washington, in the huge Pentagon Building, itself a symbol of American military might.
But as was true then of our family, so too of our nation's capital: things were more complicated and even ironic than a child's awe with either personal or state power might have suggested.
Washington, for instance, this apparent locus of rule and influence throughout the Free World if not the globe, began as a place of misery, swamps, disease, slavery, and poverty. To some extent it has always had elements of one or more of these as parts of its character. Militarily it was not viable, essentially indefensible, and during the War of 1812 was easily captured and burned by the British, on August 19, 1814.
In 1862, during the Civil War, the Union capital was briefly threatened by Robert E. Lee, and in 1864, by Jubal Early.
Washington escaped attack in the two world wars. It was our luck that those hellish conflicts were fought largely in the Eastern Hemisphere.
But during the Cold War it was targeted, and would certainly have been obliterated in a hot conflict, first by Soviet strategic bombers and later by ICBMs from Russia and China. The attempt to target our capital from Cuba as well led to the famous 1962 missile crisis and brought us the closest yet to World War III.
Of course today, following the successful 9/11/01 attacks on the Pentagon and the Twin Towers, and with threats from many terrorist individuals, organizations, and nations, such as North Korea, we know that the Washington, D.C., area remains both extremely vulnerable and a prime target among our enemies.
We realize now too that the politicians who make such far-reaching decisions from that center of power are not always so god-like as depicted in our several memorials there to national heroes and famous statesmen, but that many of our elected, of diverse parties, have proven all too human, perhaps corrupted by the power they have wielded.
But in the idealism of my youth, and long before I'd heard of massive Veteran, Civil Rights, or Anti-War marches and demonstrations in Washington, or of awful slums, drug addiction, and unemployment there, I suffered from no such disillusionment and was, perhaps naively, terribly impressed with the city and its many fine natural and man-made offerings.
Here or close by were beaches, parades, boat and air shows, the famous Potomac River rapids (and an exciting rope bridge over their chasm), the beautiful cherry blossoms around the Jefferson Memorial Tidal Basin, and hikes or picnics in Rock Creek Park.
Here too was the great height of the Washington Monument, up the multiple stairs of which my cousin, Ronny, and I (in an extravagance of energy now past imagining) raced twice to see who was fastest, and from the top of which one could look out at all the majestic sights.
Here were the White House, the Lincoln Memorial, and the Capitol Building.
Here were many superb restaurants, tours, parks, and art museums.
Here were the residences and embassies of hundreds or thousands of foreign diplomats and their staffs.
Here too were the offices of the hundreds of Senators, members of the House of Representatives, and their aides, interns, and other staffs.
And the many thousands of lobbyists and their assistants, the nation's leading judges with their court clerks, and the dozens of departments and offices of the Executive Branch.
A passing motorcade of dignitaries was a not unusual sight here. This was, after all, where it was happening, the country's true hub, the American administrative equivalent of No. 10 Downing Street and the Kremlin combined.
We lived in the city itself, in the relatively upscale Georgetown area, when I was three, a time when I was more captivated with squirrels or tortoises that might be found in the parks, or with pin-wheel propellers Dad made for the front of the car, where they would spin delightfully as we rushed along Washington's streets.
Later we resided in the suburb community of Falls Church, when I was four to eight years old. This too was where we lived when my sister, Jeanine, was born. I recall being in the Cub Scouts and going on paper and scrap metal drives to help, in the late 1940s to early 1950s, with our country's rebuilding of its strength after World War II.
Much later, while I was in high school, in 1958-1960, we lived in another D.C. suburb, Arlington, VA. While we were there my brother, Frank, was born. I won an award there for creative writing and English usage. I was active in Tikos, the National Mathematics Honor Society, and in an excellent choral group that gave performances around the area, including at the National Cathedral.
And it was there too that I learned to drive. My dad tried to teach me, at first, in an old standard-shift car with a quite tricky clutch. This ordeal would each time begin with the attempt to get us out of the driveway in reverse, my father sitting anxiously beside me. Almost every time, as I slowly released the clutch pedal, my other foot lightly on the accelerator, the vehicle would either shoot backwards onto the roadway like a disturbed lobster or, more often, violently jerk to a stop as the engine died and my father yelled.
Eventually he decided I was simply not trainable, after which, for my birthday I think, Mom for $50 bought me lessons from a patient man, with whom I did just fine and made such rapid progress that I was soon motoring in the heaviest Washington, D.C., traffic.
Punctuating each of the times we lived in or around Washington were a wide assortment of fun and interesting outings. Besides our own family's trips to parks, shows, beaches, a zoo, concerts, or the river, whenever friends or relatives would visit, which seemed to occur frequently then, we'd head over to some of the best locations for exhibits, a focus on current events, or places of historical interest. During our earlier stays in that area, Mom did not yet drive. Dad would chauffeur and lead us on these occasions. We thus toured the White House or the Capitol Building several times, saw Arlington Cemetery, and went to the various presidential memorials and Mount Vernon.
My favorite, though, was the Smithsonian Institute. Since my folks liked it a lot too, we went there often. I believe Dad's preferred presentations at the Smithsonian were the geology and aircraft exhibits, especially The Spirit of St. Louis, Charles Lindbergh's craft for the first solo transatlantic heavier-than-air flight. I was most intrigued with the natural history and paleontology exhibits.
As much as I loved cosmopolitan Washington, D.C., even planning to go to college at American University there when I finished high school in another year or two, I later hated the idea of leaving for what I considered to be the little backwater hick town of Austin, TX. But Dad had other ideas. In 1960 he retired from the Air Force and moved his family to the edge of the American Southwest. Who knew then that, from Senator Lyndon B. Johnson, later our 36th President, to Governor George W. Bush, our 43rd President, to Presidential Medal of Freedom recipient, Barbara Jordan, or to the billionaire CEO, Michael Dell, among many others, Austin too would share a semblance of our capital's limelight?
In my thirties, while I was working on the east coast with civil service and then completing graduate school, I would occasionally visit friends in D.C., and enjoy shopping and restaurants there again. Though this metropolis had by then lost some of its allure for me, I'm sure I'll always find Washington a fascinating place.