Sunday, May 13, 2012
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Under the River and Through the Woods
When I first moved to Washington DC fifteen years ago, my brother gave me a couple of pieces of advice for navigating the city - stay away from Dupont Circle (where the homosexuals tend to congregate) and don't go to Southeast DC (so I don't get shot). My brothers have a long history of looking out for my best interests, with notable exceptions including, but not limited to, crashing a bike with me riding on the handlebar, teaching me the art of shotgunning a beer, and loud baggy pants fashion sense. What are big brothers for if not for teaching you how to use a stun gun on your friends? Well I am happy to report, taking all advice with the appropriate amounts of salt, that all these years later I am still relatively unscathed by my experience in our nation's capital. Yes, gay men have flirted with me (although the gay women mostly seem oblivious to my charm), and I can recount several a tale of urban crime and ne'er-do-wells, but I do believe this city life has made me the stronger for what I have encountered... Even the date with the undercover lesbian.
Where was I going with this? Ah, yes, unscathed. It has been several years now since first I explored the neighborhood named for the famous rear admiral (no, really) Dupont, but last Sunday, I thought it was high time I cross the Anacostia River and explore the curious Ward 8, most specifically to see for myself what kind of place deems it beneficial to be successively represented by Marion Barry. The good news is, I didn't get shot; in fact no weapons appeared to be brandished nor any newsworthy atrocity occur. The few people I talked with were fairly friendly; I think I may have even been invited to a barbecue! My plan was to get off the Metro at the Congress Heights station and set out on a photographic journey. Truth be told, my few hours took me to the border of Maryland and back to Anacostia, but I will need to spend some more time there to make a competent discovery of any depth. My first impression, though, is that it is a hidden part of the city for a reason, and it seems to lack the innovative and expressive spirit of what makes our country great. It's more akin to a reservation where a people do not thrive, but rather continue to exist.
To be continued...
Where was I going with this? Ah, yes, unscathed. It has been several years now since first I explored the neighborhood named for the famous rear admiral (no, really) Dupont, but last Sunday, I thought it was high time I cross the Anacostia River and explore the curious Ward 8, most specifically to see for myself what kind of place deems it beneficial to be successively represented by Marion Barry. The good news is, I didn't get shot; in fact no weapons appeared to be brandished nor any newsworthy atrocity occur. The few people I talked with were fairly friendly; I think I may have even been invited to a barbecue! My plan was to get off the Metro at the Congress Heights station and set out on a photographic journey. Truth be told, my few hours took me to the border of Maryland and back to Anacostia, but I will need to spend some more time there to make a competent discovery of any depth. My first impression, though, is that it is a hidden part of the city for a reason, and it seems to lack the innovative and expressive spirit of what makes our country great. It's more akin to a reservation where a people do not thrive, but rather continue to exist.
To be continued...
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Greatest Fan of Your Life
Every once in a while you look around and you realize that God has placed angels amongst you. The trained eye will see beauty every step of the way in every person met, yet all of us know of certain people in our lives who are truly a blessing - truly a gift to the world.
Joan Doty was many things, I'm sure, but I will always remember her as a teacher, a mother, and a fan. She was heartily involved in her students' education, her family, and the lives of those who knew her well. Joan had a glow about her that touched so many lives. I mention her as a fan for a couple of reasons. Not only was she dedicated in genuine interest to the lives of those around her, but her love was robust for us all in sport. Few parents managed to appear in the bleachers at so many games as far away as Barstow or as inconsequential as an alumni soccer game. Sufficed to say, she was always with us, and undoubtedly, she always shall be.
Perhaps one of Joan's greatest gifts to the world was her ability to provide for her family. It would appear that opening her heart and her home to so many was her strategy to create a life so very complete for those left under her care. She was a fan of us all, and for this we lovingly applaud her, and we will miss her. Fortunately, we can always look to the sidelines, and she will be there with that wonderful smile.
Thank you, Joan. We all won. Rest, now, in peace.
Joan Doty was many things, I'm sure, but I will always remember her as a teacher, a mother, and a fan. She was heartily involved in her students' education, her family, and the lives of those who knew her well. Joan had a glow about her that touched so many lives. I mention her as a fan for a couple of reasons. Not only was she dedicated in genuine interest to the lives of those around her, but her love was robust for us all in sport. Few parents managed to appear in the bleachers at so many games as far away as Barstow or as inconsequential as an alumni soccer game. Sufficed to say, she was always with us, and undoubtedly, she always shall be.
Perhaps one of Joan's greatest gifts to the world was her ability to provide for her family. It would appear that opening her heart and her home to so many was her strategy to create a life so very complete for those left under her care. She was a fan of us all, and for this we lovingly applaud her, and we will miss her. Fortunately, we can always look to the sidelines, and she will be there with that wonderful smile.
Thank you, Joan. We all won. Rest, now, in peace.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
A Tale of Two Restaurants
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Okay, maybe that's a bit of exaggeration. As life would have it, for some unapparent reason I decided to help open, not one, but two new restaurants last year. Oh yeah, at the same time! Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you Graffiato and Jack Rose Dining Saloon.
I always appreciate when people tell me that the restaurant business is hard work. What they don't know, and what I've spent nearly two decades discovering, is that this business borders on insanity. It's not in the handbook, but my job consists of the following: barista, comedian, acrobat, childcare provider, bellhop, mathematician, public relations, wine expert, whiskey expert, nutritionalist, alcohol management enforcer, actor, student, food and beverage pairing expert, linguist, photographer, anger management specialist, tour guide, and yes... I do windows. Imagine having to satiate a basic human need, while tailoring to individual preferences, trying to make as many people happy as possible, with perfect timing, while not allowing anyone to ingest anything that might make them ill or die, all while trying to extract as much money as possible from them in an ethical fashion. All of this we must do on our feet, with a smile, for many whom will not even give us the time of day. We are critiqued several times per hour (and that's if there is no manager breathing down our necks), and our mistakes are many times difficult to hide. Repeat. Madness.
Luckily, my two newest restaurant endeavors have become quite popular, respectively. Upon my decision last May to undertake the responsibilities that come with two different places of business, I thought one might in fact win out and I would leave the other. However, both have kept me engaged in learning and challenged in my craft. Therefore I continue, damn the madness! In the words of Frasier Crane to close, although not entirely accurate, "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better butt-kicking I give than I have ever butt-kicked!"
I always appreciate when people tell me that the restaurant business is hard work. What they don't know, and what I've spent nearly two decades discovering, is that this business borders on insanity. It's not in the handbook, but my job consists of the following: barista, comedian, acrobat, childcare provider, bellhop, mathematician, public relations, wine expert, whiskey expert, nutritionalist, alcohol management enforcer, actor, student, food and beverage pairing expert, linguist, photographer, anger management specialist, tour guide, and yes... I do windows. Imagine having to satiate a basic human need, while tailoring to individual preferences, trying to make as many people happy as possible, with perfect timing, while not allowing anyone to ingest anything that might make them ill or die, all while trying to extract as much money as possible from them in an ethical fashion. All of this we must do on our feet, with a smile, for many whom will not even give us the time of day. We are critiqued several times per hour (and that's if there is no manager breathing down our necks), and our mistakes are many times difficult to hide. Repeat. Madness.
Luckily, my two newest restaurant endeavors have become quite popular, respectively. Upon my decision last May to undertake the responsibilities that come with two different places of business, I thought one might in fact win out and I would leave the other. However, both have kept me engaged in learning and challenged in my craft. Therefore I continue, damn the madness! In the words of Frasier Crane to close, although not entirely accurate, "It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better butt-kicking I give than I have ever butt-kicked!"
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Welcome Madeleine
Facing the Sea with Spring Blossoms
By Hai Zi
"From tomorrow on,
I will be a happy man;
Grooming, chopping,
and traveling all over the world.
From tomorrow on,
I will care foodstuff and vegetable,
Living in a house towards the sea,
with spring blossoms.
From tomorrow on,
write to each of my dear ones,
Telling them of my happiness,
What the lightening of happiness has told me,
I will spread it to each of them.
Give a warm name for every river and every mountain, Strangers, I will also wish you happy.
May you have a brilliant future!
May you lovers eventually become spouses!
May you enjoy happiness in this earthly world!
I only wish to face the sea, with spring flowers blossoming."
My photo was one of many taken on an afternoon spring walk through several neighborhoods in Washington, DC from Penn Quarter to Dupont Circle. It was March 25th - a peaceful, lovely day - and I later discovered that at the same time my friend Jennifer was bringing her daughter Madeleine into this world. She made her debut the following morning and shares a birthday with the Chinese poet Hai Zi quoted above. I thought it a happy coincidence.
By Hai Zi
"From tomorrow on,
I will be a happy man;
Grooming, chopping,
and traveling all over the world.
From tomorrow on,
I will care foodstuff and vegetable,
Living in a house towards the sea,
with spring blossoms.
From tomorrow on,
write to each of my dear ones,
Telling them of my happiness,
What the lightening of happiness has told me,
I will spread it to each of them.
Give a warm name for every river and every mountain, Strangers, I will also wish you happy.
May you have a brilliant future!
May you lovers eventually become spouses!
May you enjoy happiness in this earthly world!
I only wish to face the sea, with spring flowers blossoming."
My photo was one of many taken on an afternoon spring walk through several neighborhoods in Washington, DC from Penn Quarter to Dupont Circle. It was March 25th - a peaceful, lovely day - and I later discovered that at the same time my friend Jennifer was bringing her daughter Madeleine into this world. She made her debut the following morning and shares a birthday with the Chinese poet Hai Zi quoted above. I thought it a happy coincidence.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Blossoms Revisited
It was the 7 o'clock hour early in the morning in Washington DC. The annual Cherry Blossom Festival has yet to begin, but the pink buds are beginning to burst open with life and transform the view around the tidal basin once again. This precious fleeting beauty is a reminder of so much in life that seems to come and go in the blink of an eye.
Behold.
Behold.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Past Due
No, Mom, don't worry - my bills are being paid.
There is a reason we all study history. For centuries, societies have deemed it of necessary importance to remember the past. Explorers, leaders, heroes, tyrants, societal movements, cultures, successes, and otherwise unspeakable horrific events all have been documented to either forward the progress of humanity or forewarn of the scope and capability of evil men. History, grasped with a serious mind, can inspire and enlighten or it can frighten.
Just as studying political and cultural history provide a preparation for future events, studying one's own life history should necessarily provide a key to one's own future. I have always identified more with the school of thought that says it is more important where you are going rather than where you have been. However, what if certain events in your history held clues or keys to your future? If who we are is a collection of decades of actions, experiences, and thoughts, then it would seem appropriate to study one's own life history to come to a better understanding of, not only trends and themes, but perhaps even a model that relates to a purpose. Read any biography, and you will find clues that point to an eventual understanding of a life lived. How strange that few of these clues seem obvious in real-time to ourselves. I have always found it profoundly difficult to predict the future based upon my wants and needs. Just as dreams come to us in the night so that our brains can tell us a story, perhaps some research back into these brains will show us the right way to achieve our dreams in the light. The lesson of history surely can be found in its tendency for repetition, however more acutely, it may be evident in what's past is due.
There is a reason we all study history. For centuries, societies have deemed it of necessary importance to remember the past. Explorers, leaders, heroes, tyrants, societal movements, cultures, successes, and otherwise unspeakable horrific events all have been documented to either forward the progress of humanity or forewarn of the scope and capability of evil men. History, grasped with a serious mind, can inspire and enlighten or it can frighten.
Just as studying political and cultural history provide a preparation for future events, studying one's own life history should necessarily provide a key to one's own future. I have always identified more with the school of thought that says it is more important where you are going rather than where you have been. However, what if certain events in your history held clues or keys to your future? If who we are is a collection of decades of actions, experiences, and thoughts, then it would seem appropriate to study one's own life history to come to a better understanding of, not only trends and themes, but perhaps even a model that relates to a purpose. Read any biography, and you will find clues that point to an eventual understanding of a life lived. How strange that few of these clues seem obvious in real-time to ourselves. I have always found it profoundly difficult to predict the future based upon my wants and needs. Just as dreams come to us in the night so that our brains can tell us a story, perhaps some research back into these brains will show us the right way to achieve our dreams in the light. The lesson of history surely can be found in its tendency for repetition, however more acutely, it may be evident in what's past is due.
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