Catching Up (27 cents)

I want to catch up on a few things that have happened since last I wrote.  It seems like it has been a long time, although it has only been a week.  So, these will be short and, for the most part, sweet.

1.  Speaking of sweet, I have to say that I am working my way through a jar of Smucker’s Low Sugar Sweet Orange Marmelade, and finding it very tasty.  Thought you’d like to know.  Especially since I had decided to avoid Smucker’s products after visiting their factory/store somewhere in deepest rural Ohio and being shocked at the commercialization of it all.  Why I was shocked, I am not so sure, but I always imagined Smucker’s, like Hebrew National, answering to a higher authority.  In HN’s case, God; in Smucker’s, Willard Scott.

2.  And, while I am touting products, let me add Red Bicyclette Merlot (I have the 2005) and Poggio al Tufo’s Rompicollo (I have the 2004).  Two very inexpensive wines (under $10) which seem to be highly drinkable, and consistently so.

3.  Moving on…….We saw one final film in the Washington DC International Film Festival, this one made by a combine of Serbian and Slovenians, it appears.  Called “The Tour”, it tells the story of a group of veteran stage actors in Belgrade (all seem to be Serbian, except for the leading lady, who is Croatian) who, in 1993, are convinced (against their better judgement but at a time when they are all very upset at their somewhat dictatorial artistic director) to go on a short excursion to the a small town miles from the capital to give a couple of performances, with the prospect of earning some quick money. They hesitate, because there is a war going on, with Serbians, Croats, Bosnians and others all involved, some Christian and some Moslem.  But they are convinced that where they are going, it is safe.

Not so, as they are caught in a number of ridiculous situations, involving shortages of food and shelter, moving across the ever changing front lines, avoiding land mines, etc., etc.  Do they perform?  Yes.  Do their audiences appreciate the performances?  Not at all.  They have more important things on their mind.

It’s a comedy set within a tragedy.  As one character says:  what is all this fighting for?  all of these people are identical!  They are the same people.

It is a funny movie.  It is not a pleasant movie.  It is a very well acted movie.  And the message is right there in your face – along with the nonsensical brutality of war.

4.  We ate at Hank’s Oyster Bar last night – halibut served on a bed of greenbeans and mushrooms.  Quite good.  We also ate again at Indian Ocean – I had a “butter chicken”, which is quite a trick since the restaurant cooks without any butter products.  It was the least satisfying of the many good things I have had at the restaurant; I told the owner that I was surprised how mild it was.  He told me it was the dish that they recommended to customers who didn’t like anything spicy.  Who knew?  We also had lunch at Ruby Tuesday in Fairfax County – just a salad bar and something to drink.  It was surprisingly good.  I think we may have decided at one point that we were never going to go to a Ruby Tuesday again.  If so, we broke the promise (funny what hunger will do), and were not sorry.  And there is one thing more to add here:  I had a home made, raspberry lemonade, which was for a short time last Saturday, my favorite all time drink.  Try it the next time you are at Ruby Tuesday – or try the strawberry version.

5.  I have to admit I enjoyed reading the article in the NYT Sunday Magazine, excerpted from Christopher Buckley’s new book on his parents, but frankly am getting tired of seeing it reviewed and excerpted in so many places.  Their PR person is being too efficient.  No one will have to buy the book.

As to books, I am still reading Victor Klemperer’s “I Will Bear Witness”, and in fact found a cheap hardback copy with much larger print.  I am also reading Frank Gervasi’s “The Violent Decade”, about his foreign reporting from 1935 – 1945, which I am finding very interesting.  Both are rather long, and are somewhat slow going. So, it will take me a while to finish.  I’m not in a hurry.

6.  I did read one other book, in the meantime.  Frances Perkins’ “The Roosevelt I Knew”, written shortly after FDR’s death in 1945.   Perkins, the first woman to serve in a cabinet position, was Roosevelt’s Secretary of Labor for the 13 years of his presidency.  The book is not so much a memoir per se, as a series of recollections of her involvement with Roosevelt, which was extensive, from his days as New York governor onward.  It’s an interesting book, but I think much more interesting today than it would have been a year or two ago.  This is because it goes into great detail of the way the Roosevelt administration fought the Depression.  It does not concentrate on foreign affairs, nor on economic policy, because this was not Ms. Perkins’ area.  It concentrates on job creation, on employment legislation, on labor-management relations, and on social service initiatives, such as the development of the social security programs.  The similarities in the approaches of the Roosevelt and Obama administrations (putting aside the differences in the country in 1933 and 2009) are striking, and it is interesting to look at the Roosevelt initiatives, some longer lasting than others, in light of the passage of 70+ years, as a way of gaining some perspective on what is happening today.

7.  Finally, at least to mention, the Caps, as they move into the Eastern Division semi-finals against the Penguins.  We will be at Verizon Centre on Saturday for game no.1.  The Caps got off to a bad start against the Rangers, and were forced to win the last three to defeat New York in the series.  We don’t want to dig ourselves into a hole like that again.  By virtue of our records, we should beat Pittsburgh and then face Boston in the Eastern finals.  That will be the tough one.  One note related to all of this: the six game suspension of Donald Brashear for elbowing a Ranger and injuring him for the rest of the series.  Hate to say it, but I think he got what he deserved.  And this it too bad, becuase I think that the Caps play with Brashear much better than without him.

Turning to baseball, I am concerned that the economics of the Nationals and Nationals Stadium are disintegrating along with the fan base, which I find disappointing for all of the obvious reasons.  The Nats are now something like 4-14, or so.  Their hitting is top-notch (they have the 4th best on base record of all 30 MLB teams), their fielding has been much too spotty and their pitching has been, for the most part, abysmal.  It doesn’t make any difference if you score 6 runs per game, if you let your opponents score 7.  At some point, this will even out some.  But what is important is that the games I have seen (only one in person so far) have all been very, very interesting games.  That seems to be something that too few people appreciate.

8.  Finally again, Annie Hall.  Theater J’s current production is “The Rise and Fall of Annie Hall”, a play based loosely on Woody Allen’s movie or, more specifically, on the attempt by a young writer to turn it into a musical.  The play was very funny, I thought, and made more so by Josh Lefkowitz’s portrayal of the narrator (the Allen-ish character).  The remainder of the cast (who, along with the director, are I believe each friends of one or both of my daughters) also did a wonderful job, but I thought that Lefkowitz outshined them all.  (To prepare us for the show, we did rent the original “Annie Hall” movie.  I had seen it 30 years ago, and had mixed, at best, feelings then.  Still feel the same.  Some funny lines, but by and large not a likeable film.  Of course, I know I am a member of the smallest of minorities on this one.)

Japanese Invasion of Hong Kong – December 1941

The day after Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, they entered Hong Kong, winning final control of the city when the British surrendered on Christmas Day. The invasion and occupation was very rough on the city and its environs, which had been controlled by the British since 1842. Many British and Canadian soldiers lost their lives defending the Crown Colony, their were significant numbers of civilian casualties, and foreigners (particularly nationals of countries fighting Japan) were rounded up and imprisoned. One such man was Jan Henrik Marsman, a Dutch born industrialist, whose world wide operations were headquartered in Manila and had renounced his Dutch citizenship and become a citizen of the Philippines. Marsman told the story of the invasion, his imprisonment, and his escape from Hong Kong, by water and land into non-occupied China. His story became a book, “I Escaped From Hong Kong”, published very quickly, in 1942. The story is interesting, both as a first hand report on what was going on in Hong Kong, and as an extraordinary and unpleasant adventure story as he, with the help of native Chinese underground entrepeneurs, and accompanied by a half dozen others, were secreted across Japanese infested waters in a sampan boat, and then hiked over the mountains for days upon end to freedom.

Because the book was written during the war, Marsman had no idea what was going to become of China, although he at least pretended to have no doubt as to the outcome of the war. The idea of a Communist revolution in China was unthinkable at the time. Nor was the extraordinary economic success that the then devastated and increasingly abandoned Hong Kong would become after the war, in part because of the defeat of capitalism in the remainder of mainland China.

An interesting book.

Film Fest: Hungary and Poland (14 cents)

Two more films shown at the DC International Film Fest.  Here are my thoughts:

1.  A Hungarian movie, “The Investigator”, could have taken place anywhere.  An assistant pathologist in a Budapest hospital, an asocial loner, is concerned about his mother dying of cancer.  The best treatment is available in Sweden, but he can’t afford the cost.  He is approached by a one-eyed man, “Cyclops”, who offers him a substantial amount of money if he would ‘eliminate’ someone for him.  The pathologist, a man used to death and emotionally repressed, agrees, believing that this is the one chance to save his mother.  The murder comes off without a hitch, it appears.  Until the police discover something not known to our anti-hero: the murdered man is the half-brother of the murderer.  This establishes the basis for the plot, as the “murderer” becomes the “investigator”.  Was it a first class movie?  No, but it carried you right along, even though the ending was somewhat pre-destined, as everything led in only one possible direction.

2.  Much different is “Scratch”, a Polish movie, which could only come out of a formerly Communist European country.   Here, nothing really points anywhere, and many plot questions remain unanswered.  But again, you are carried right along, as a Polish biology professor, married for 40 years, is sent a mysterious video cassette (you never find out who sent it) showing an interview with a Polish historian, discussing her late father, who had spent time in prison for anti-Communist activities.  The historian claims that the Polish secret police sent one of their own to seduce and marry the biologist, and report back on activities of his father in law, and his father in law’s associates.  The husband of 40 years denies all of this, but the marriage, and the mind of the biologist are both destroyed, as she descends into paranoia and depression.  The movie is a mystery without answer, and a character study.

Glad to have seen both, and happy to recommend both, each has its limitations and faults.  Both both keep you engrossed, in part because of strong performances by the full casts, and each is unorthodox enough to making viewing them very interesting.

Saturday in the Big City (22 cents)

It was a beautiful morning, with the temperatures destined to rise to the mid-70s, and already in the 60s.  I decided to go to the gym, in large part because I had been avoiding it for a few weeks and needed to get back on track.  I assumed it would be empty, that it couldn’t compete with the great outdoors.  But it was packed.  Must be the start of swim suit season.

We left at noon, for the 1 p.m. playoff came between the Caps and the Rangers, wearing our red.  The 18,000+ Verizon Center was full, red outnumbering blue by a ratio of approximately infinity to one.  Electricity and anticipation as Caleb Green sang the national anthem.  Varlamov in goal instead of Jose Theodore.  Victory in the air.

But it was not to be, as the Rangers beat the Caps for the second straight time.  The score was 1-0.  While neither goalie was challenged, it seemed clear that Varlamov, just turned 20, was up to the task.  I hope he plays Monday in New York.  Both teams played well defensively.   Although the Caps outshot the Rangers about 2-1, very few of the shots challenged Ranger goalie Lunquist.  Mike Green, star defensemen, looked like he was new to the game; our offensive power was not on display.  Behind 2-0 now.  It will be hard.

Meanwhile, at Nationals Stadium, things were no better.  It appeared that Washington was going to beat Florida, with a 6-3 lead in the 8th.  But it was Florida 9-6 when the game ended after the 11th.  The second extra inning, fall from ahead, loss by the Nats.  Record now: 1-8.

After the hockey game, and a short walk in warm sunlight, we went into the National Portrait Gallery, only a block from the rink.  We saw three current exhibits, two of which would be worth a return trip (next time, with my glasses, which somehow I had forgotten at home).  One is an interesting exhibit on Marcel Duchamp and portraiture.  Duchamp is the subject of the exhibits.  Photos of Duchamp, paintings of Duchamp.  Perhaps more of him than you need to see, but that is part of the strength of the exhibit–how often he was the subject of his, and of others’, art.  Along with a narrative that explains his centrality to twentieth century art, it is most definitely worth seeing.

The second exhibit, somewhat larger than the fairly sizeable Duchamp, is an exhibit on self-portraiture, called “Reflections and Refractions”, featuring graphic work, drawings, paintings, and the occasional sculpture or fabric art, by a variety of twentieth century artists, displaying self-portraits.  Most interesting are the multiple self-portraits painted or drawn by the same artist, over a period of 50+ years. Most of the artists are familiar, but some are not. This one is definitely worth more time than we had to spend yesterday.

The third exhibit, one which will probably be seen by more people as it is a first floor exhibit, I could have done without.  Three or four current portrait photographers.  Larger than life photographs (much larger than life) showing every blemish and crevice on the faces of such people as Barack Obama, John McCain, Jack Nicholson and Angelina Jolie, for example.  Do you know that if you blow up Angelina Jolie’s face so that it covers an entire wall, she is no longer attractive?  True.

Leaving the Portrait Gallery, we walked across the street to Zaytinya, the now well-known Turkish/Greek style restaurant located at 9th and I.  We drank a specialty drink which they, for some reason, call a Mykonos, after the Greek isle.  It has grape vodka, sour cherry juice, ouzo and who knows what else.  It is very refreshing, and just the thing to have with bronzini, a warm mix of various types of “green” beans, and delicious squash fritters.

Then, for our final activity of the day, back to the building adjoining the Verizon Center, where among other entertainment venues you find 14 Regal Cinemas.  The Washington International Film Festival has opened, and we have tickets for 6 (I think 6) films.  Last night was our first, an Egyptian film called “Hassan and Marcos”, starting Egyptian stars Omar Sharif and Adel Imam.  Opening last summer in Cairo, and showing at festivals around the world, the film has received well deserved positive reviews.  In Cairo however, these reviews were tempered by what appear to be typical Moslem calls for the film to be banned as blasphemous.  If only Moslems would stop taking  God so seriously.

Sharif is a Moslem, the brother of a fundamentalist leader, who wants nothing of politics or Islamic movements.  But he becomes the heir of his brother’s group after his brother his murdered, an offer he apparently cannot refuse.  Imam, is a Coptic Christian leader, a little too outspoken perhaps on the ways in which Christians and Moslems can work together, and he too becomes a target.  Both must go into hiding, and the Egyptian government gives each (along with their families) a fake identity.  Imam becomes a Moslem, and Sharif a Christian.

The movie is a French farce-like comedy for the most part, as the two families wind up living in adjoining apartments located by the government relocation agency, with neither family guessing the true identity (or religious beliefs) of the other.  And one has a teenage boy (handsome) and one a teenage girl (cute).  You get the idea – the movie is very funny, somewhat hammy, and very clever.

You also can guess that, in this situation, things cannot turn out for the best.  And they don’t.  But they don’t turn out for the absolute worst, either.  Oh, yes, Cairo doesn’t turn out very well, but you can’t tell about the two families.  The movie ends before the drama (that is, the drama of the comedic script) plays out completely.

One other thing:  this movie is apparently a remake of sorts of a movie made over fifty years ago in Egypt, that one called “Hassan and Morcos and Cohen”.  “Cohen” has now been dropped.  That is not surprising, since the Egyptian Jewish community is virtually all in Israel or elsewhere, but it would be interesting to compare the two films.  Whether the earlier one is available, and whether it has been subtitled in English, I don’t know.

Whether it will be possible to see this film soon, or not, I don’t know, but if it is, go see it.  In Egypt, the adverse reaction was swift in coming.  Apparently, there was (is?) a movement to boycott all films of Imam (perhaps the most famous of Egyptian actors) and, in a case of life imitating art, Imam and his family had to leave Cairo and move to a resort town on the Mediterranean, where to my knowledge, he remains.

We had not been to a film at the Regal Theatres before.  The particular theater showing Hassan and Morcos was quite large.  I am not sure what it holds, but I would guess at least 500 people.  But the lobby had billions of people coming and going to the 14 different theaters.  Billions.

And then, leaving the theater and going out onto 7th Street, at about 9:30 on a beautiful Saturday night, there were additional billions (make that quadrillions) of people moving in all directions, and congregating.  And, even more surprising, there were phalanxes of police officers.  On street corners (usually in groups of 6-8), patrol cars, bicycles (clearing traffic with electric kazoos), and so on.  Apparently, this is Saturday in the big city.  A visitor from outer space would be amazed.  As were we, even though we have been at the Verizon Center a number of times on Saturday nights, but you go right to the Metro after games, and don’t notice the crowds other than the hockey crowds.  And we have spent a fair amount of time on 7th Street, but probably not on a beautiful Saturday night.

A Morning Shot of Vodka (3 cents)

A strange dream……

It is 11 a.m.  I know that, although I don’t look at a clock.  I am in a large house.  I don’t know that I have ever seen this house before, but it is comfortable and familiar.  I want a shot of vodka.

I know that I never have had vodka at 11 in the morning.  I know that it is a depraved thing to do; it is something that only an alcoholic would do.  I know I am not an alcoholic.

But it is 11 a.m., and I want a shot of vodka.

I take the alcohol from the freezer and pour the drink.  I am afraid someone will discover me.  People come in and out of the room.  I am very sneaky.  I stand with it in front me facing the wall.  I cup my hand over the small glass.  I have a number of tricks.  No one guesses what I am up to.

Now, no one is in the room.  I feel safe.  I sit in a chair.  I pick up a book.  I start to read, and to sip.

A woman, whom I don’t recognize, an older woman, comes into the room.  I know she sees me.  I can no longer hide it.  I decide instead to act like it is the most normal thing in the world.  She says hello, and walks by leaving the room.

I wonder if she will tell on me.

I wake up.

There were many victims (27 cents)

Sometimes, we get so obsessed with Jewish victims of World War II that we forget the others.

Several years ago, we had a young woman from the Ukraine stay with us while she was on a short exchange program here.  She was from Chernigov, a mid-sized city in the northwest of the country, and in a conversation one morning told us that her grandmother was quite ill.  I asked about her, and learned that she was not that old (in her 70s), but that she had been in relatively poor health since the end of World War II, when she was a victim of dislocation and famine.  I then learned that she was the only surviving sibling in her family, and that the others had all been killed, either when they were in the army, or as victims of various invading forces.  They were not Jewish; they were, I guess, normal Ukrainians.

Then last night, I read quickly through a fascinating book titled Have You Forgotten?, “a Memoir of Poland, 1939-1945″, written by Christine Zamoyska-Panek.  The author was 16 when the Germans invaded Poland.  She was the daughter of very wealthy (emphasize the ‘very’) and aristocratic Polish families.  (Her father’s estate had 110,000 acres, for example.)

During the war, the estate was taken over by the Germans, the family dislocated and separated.  They lived with various friends and relatives, some of whom were hiding Jews and others wanted by the Nazis.  The Gestapo marked her father for execution because he was involved in hiding Jews, and he had to go into deeper hiding.  For a while she believed both her parents had been killed, as had many of her relatives and friends.

Her family were clearly Polish nationalists, active during the period between the wars, and she became involved in the underground both during the war and after the war (when the Russians took over, and marked Polish nationalists for elimination).

Eventually, after a series of adventures and numerous experiences where only luck (perhaps and good looks) saved her, she married an American (it sounded like theymarried to get permission for her to enter the country, and that they found out that the marriage, to a man much older than she, was much better than she expected), and wound up living in Maine, and the Virginia.  I do not know if she is still living or not.

At any rate, it makes you think about how awful it all was, how lucky we have been in this country, and quickly things can change.  It also makes you wonder about people and their past.  If you had met Christine Zamoyska-Panek as an older woman in Maine or Virginia, would you have guessed what she had done, and what she had gone through?

Of course, that goes both ways.  I think back to the early 1970s, when I was sitting in a cafe on the Algarve coast of Portugal eating breakfast.  There was an elderly (to my mind, he was elderly, probably in his 60s then), courtly gentlemen at the small table next to me, and we began to talk.  He was quite friendly.  He lived in Malmo, Sweden, and I asked him if he had always lived there.  He told me that it was his wife’s hometown, and that he was from Germany, but moved there when they were married.  I asked him when that was, and he told me it was some time in the early 1930s.  I asked him what it was like there during the war, but he told me that he had gone back to Germany then, that he felt it his duty as a German to defend his country.  Where was he during the war, I asked?  He told me that he was not in the military, but in the civilian administration and, in fact, was (and I forget the term he used) in charge of the civil occupation of Amsterdam.  He was, I then knew, a Nazi.

He then told me that there were three separate German authorities, the Gestapo (the crazies), the military and the civilian administrators.  The latter group, he said, tried to keep things together, and that he had done nothing wrong.  In fact, he said, he protected several Jews throughout the war.

I believed he was who he said he was.  I did not believe a thing that he said justifying his activities.  And I abruptly ended the conversation, telling him what I thought, and leaving the cafe.

But was I right?  Or did I reach conclusions too quickly?  I always have wondered.

Opening Day at Nationals’ Stadium

The final score was Philadelphia 9, Washington 8.

What were the worst moments?  Hernandez’ two errors at second base on two simple infield ground balls (one of which should have been a double play)?  Or Rivera’s hitting two batters for no reason at all and then allowing a 3 run home run?  Or Guzman’s hamstring injury after going 5 for 5?

Hard to say.

The Nats are now 0-7.  Their composite ERA remains above 8.00.

It makes no difference whether or not they are hitting.  They are being done in by pitching (or lack of it), and fielding(or lack of it)  [true, the Hernandez errors can be explained by his early return from injury occasioned by the two other second basemen's injuries].

On the other hand, other than Rivera, the pitching was not bad.  And it was good to see Dunn, Dukes and Zimmerman hit home runs.

What next?

Missing H-Bombs (?)

I read a fascinating obituary in the Washington Post this morning, the life story of Navy Captain Bill Searle, who speciality was salvaging sunken ships and other debris.  He seemed like quite a guy.

What caught my eye was this story, which (if it was ever there) had certainly faded from my mind:

“His involvement with the H-bomb grew out of the midair collision in January 1966 during the refueling of a B-52 over Palomares, Spain….Of the B-52’s four weapons, one parachuted to earth and was recovered intact two hit land and were destroyed when their high-explosive triggers went off, and one landed in the Mediterranean.  The so-called broken arrow incident prompted a 2 1/2 month-long search for the fourth bomb (valued at $2 billion).

“……The subersible Alvin [presumably some sort of a rescue vehicle] eventuallly located the bomb at 2300 feet, but lines broke as the 900-pound device was being hauled to the surface and it sunk even deeper.  The bomb was recovered two weeks later.”

H-bombs parachuting to Spain, their triggers exploding on impact?  H-bombs at the bottom of the Mediterranean?

Yes, this was more than 40 years ago, but something is very wrong with this picture.

The Week Ending (one cent)

1.  The seders.  One at our house; one at friends.  Highlight of ours was the generous use of friend Barbara Sarshik’s Passover songs.  Highlight of the second night: the fact that we did not get up from the table until 1:30 a.m.

2.  The concert.  This is the Smithsonian’s Jazz Appreciation Week, and we went to a concert of songs connected with Native American jazz singer Mildred Bailey (1907-1951), sung by a young Native American jazz major at the University of Miami named Julia Keefe.  She was backed up by a local jazz octet.  Keefe’s voice is extremely easy to listen to, and she can sing in a variety of styles.  Her voice is still a bit young, but as it matures, she may be someone who can really make a mark.  Most of the songs were old favorites:  Lover Come Back to Me, I Thought About You, Got My Love to Keep Me Warm, Our Love is Here to Stay and so on.  Some were old, but not favorites, only because I was not familiar with them.  We decided to go at the last minute.  Good move.

3.  The films.  Not as good a move.  The films scheduled to be shown during the Spring at the National Gallery of Art don’t seem as appealing as they usually do.  We went to see two semi-shorts (one 30 minutes, one an hour) on Saturday.  They were classified as avant-garde films of the 60s.  One, “A Town Called Tempest”, told the story of a disfunctional family who moved to a town in Kansas, and whose teenage son decides to build a storm center.  His parents think he should be out meeting girls and becoming a man.  Because of their disagreements, he locks them out of the storm cellar when the tempest hits, and they die.  The teenage girl who loves him gives him sympathy.  He has none himself; he thinks they deserved it.

The second, called “Chafed Elbows” was even more weird, and I am not going to try to retell the plot, except to say that it involves incest, and a hapless anti-hero.  It was produced and directed by Robert Downey, Sr., and stars his wife (Robert Downey Jr’s mother) playing all of the female roles.

4.  The walk.  To help daughter Michelle prepare for her upcoming Avon Cancer Walk, I accompanied her for a long walk on a beautiful, if a little cool, day.  Starting in Bethesda, we took the Crescent Trail to Georgetown, and then went through Georgetown on M Street and down Pennsylvania Avenue to 18th Street and down to Constitution Avenue and the Washington Monument, and then back to the Lincoln Memorial (walking by the WW II memorial and the Reflecting Pool), and finally up to the Foggy Bottom Metro station for the ride back to Bethesda.  We think we covered 11+ miles.  The backs of the knees are a little sore; will probably feel it more tomorrow.

5.  The second concert.  Today was the 70th Anniversary of Marian Anderson’s Easter concert at the Lincoln Memorial.  A nice crowd heard Sweet Honey in the Rock, the Chicago Children’s Choir, and Denyce Graves.  The only down note was Colin Powell, who was charged with reading Lincoln’s second inaugural address.  Poor guy.  I don’t think the crowd was interested.

6.  The restaurant.  A new one for me, Michelle and I tried Founding Farmers, a very interesting casual/not so casual restaurant, owned by the North Dakota Farmers Union, and dedicated to showing what good fresh, farm grown food can taste like.  We had brunch (eggs etc.), which were delicious (be sure you try their grits), but it looked like a place to come back to for lunch or dinner.  Extensive menu, and large wine and alcohol menu as well.

7.  The teams.  Well, the Caps blew their final game against Florida, but go into the playoffs as second in the east and first in their conference.  Their first series will be against the Rangers.  It will all depend on how the goalie does – this has been a little sporadic.  The Caps are second amongst all the 30 NHL teams in scoring, but below the middle in goals against.

And how about those Nationals?  0-6 record, with close to a 8.00 ERA.  The home opener is tomorrow, and we will be there (since we have tickets), but will anyone else?

After Losing Their First Three Games By Embarrassing Margins,

the Nationals lost last night in extra innings. Is this progress?