Countdown to Inauguration

Something is afoot in Washington DC. The town is buzzing in a way that transports me deep into the pages of a Tolstoy epic. Although not nearly as stunning in architecture and geography, I picture DC as St. Petersburg during the Napoleonic Wars and the great balls held at the Winter Palace. I can see the soldiers in green uniform and the women in Empire dresses, both poised for gallantry and yearning for courtship and dancing. I can hear the mindless chatter of the commoners and the cultivated gossip of the social climbers. I can feel the bustle of the court staff and the anticipation of the ball pageantry at the Tsarist court - all of St. Petersburg would have been charged with the candlelight of a thousand souls yearning for excitement, greatness, and intrigue.

It is the same in Washington DC as Obama ascends to the presidency. Inaugural committees furiously prepare festivities, FedEx couriers feverishly distribute ball invitations, women nervously fret over their ball gowns, and men secretly worry over political appointments and cabinet positions. All await January 20th as a day of amazing anticipation and spectacle - the swearing-in of a new president and the celebration of any number of inauguration balls.

Thanks to my wife's impeccable timing and connections, we received tickets to one of the ten official inauguration balls at which President Obama will make a grand appearance. Naturally, I am excited - but not to meet the newly sworn-in president. I am more excited to partake in an historic series of events and a public mood that hearken back to the pomp and circumstance of such past eras. When black tie was the norm, and ladies presented themselves formally to society. When civilty was the norm, and people across the land celebrated for a cause larger than themselves. When epoch-making was the norm, and achieving greatness was a badge of honor and not a disgraceful pursuit.

Regardless of reason for public captivation with Barack Obama's inauguration (Race? Bush? History? Change?), I look forward to his coronation day as a chance to enjoy a brief dalliance with the rituals of prior generations. And with less than a week to inauguration, let the anticipation build and the countdown begin.

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Party Like It's 1999

A coworker sent me a meeting invitation to the end of the world. Fitting. I'm not sure if I should accept or not (suppose it depends on your views of the end of the Mayan calendar ), but somehow it reminded me of the Prince song on a related subject . Fitting as well that this coworker was not born when Prince extolled the virtues of partying like it's 1999 (side note: I did party like it's 1999 while studying abroad in Milan at that time, which was a heady experience with the coming of the Euro and all. How times have changed, how the mighty have fallen...). Time change, sometimes faster than we think, and our cultural references become dated. Perhaps just like the Mayan calendar falling out of fashion over the last few centuries, until its end becomes a modern cultural phenomenon - or not, depending on your view of things. In either case, it's worth partying like it's 1999 regardless because hey, it will be Friday when this all goes down, and Fridays

Siesta

Every so often, an afternoon comes along that deserves a siesta. Today is such a day. With mid-90's temperatures and a blazing, blue sky, a July summer day such as this carries the conditions befitting of a hour's respite from the day's torching heat and mounting challenges. Good thing, then, that there is so much more work to do and that a pause is difficult to conceive at this point. But it is worth daydreaming - as good as a siesta, just done wakefully instead of eyes closing. In any case, I found this portrait by the artist Roxanne Driedger to be appropriate. A sort of soft tribute to the innocent pleasures of an afternoon nap that seems so appealing right now.

New York Pause

Heading to the Helmsley Sometimes I work in NYC, and this is my office. More precisely, there is a desk in the upper floors of this distinctive building that has a major thoroughfare running through it that I inhabit while typing up documents and conducting meetings in the city. It is nothing exceptional, usually the work and sometimes the desk at which I sit, but the surrounding city is commanding, ever-thriving, and never-still. If I pay close enough attention, I am reminded of the countless things that make this city unique among the many cities I have had the pleasure to live in and visit. But on this brisk morning, when winter gusts barrel down Park Avenue as I hustle the blocks from Lex to the building entrance security guards, I pause long enough to snap this picture. That pause is enough reminder that I am lucky to be here, and New York City is ready to give me its best shot (I'm still not sure if the city is better personified male or female). But that is all t

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