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After the Monument Walking tour, I decided that having recently been sick with a terrible cough and lame from a heal spur, I would be lazy and not participate in Wednesday’s activities. I was then able to completely fulfill the Army designation of sick, lame, and lazy. My sister, her family, and Gabe (for good measure) went to see the Spy Museum and the Museum of Natural History. I sat at home in my chair with my feet up reading the Saturday through Wednesday Washington Post. When they returned, Gabe declared the Spy Museum “Cool!” He purchased sunglasses with mirrors on the inside edges so that he can see if someone is following him. In the Natural History Museum, Marie liked the rocks, minerals, and jewels and Sam enjoyed the Mammal Room. Tired from all their touring, they decided to spend Thursday at my house and at the neighborhood pool. Instead of showing them sympathy and allowing them a restful day, I had my brother in law clean the gutter I can’t reach, weed eat the yard, change the oil in the lawn mower, and determine the pond pump problem. My brother in law is very handy. He tells my sister that she gets the double bonus of him being both handy and handsome. (Sometimes I think he gets too much sun on his bald head.)

(I personally don’t want to use paragraph breaks, but tech support has gotten a bit big for his britches now that he has less than 40 days left in Iraq.)

On the 4th of July, we headed back into DC for the final hurrah. We wanted to literally “Go out with a bang!” I had booked two rooms for the night and I was a bit worried that I had made the wrong choice. We pulled up to the hotel at 1000, and they graciously allowed us in one of the rooms. The hotel was lovely, my sister was happy, and I breathed a big sigh of relief. My nephew decided to take a page from his Aunt’s book of tricks and stayed in the room to rest because he was feeling ill. The rest of us marched down to the parade. We found a good spot and sat down on our blankets and chairs. We ate our picnic lunch and it was enjoyable at first. We had brought umbrellas in case of rain, but used them instead to block the sun. It was really hot, we were all covered in sweat and a woman stood right behind me leaning on my chair. She even complained about my attempts to ward her off with my umbrella. We all got a kick out of the guys in black outfits with large bells sewn on their legs. They danced and pranced down the street. They were sweating something fierce in 90 degree heat. After 3 hours in the hot sun, no end of the parade in sight, and a suspicion that the woman behind me was going to push me over in my chair, we decided we had seen enough. We returned to the hotel to find my nephew recovered and Raddapendence Day on Cartoon Network. Chowder is my kids new favorite show and I am often forced to listen to endless reenactments of it. Even Zeke walks around saying lines. So, I finally watched it with them. I was so happy to be in the air conditioning with a coke in my hand that I may have actually chuckled a few times. I think the heat had gotten to me.

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That night we ate at a really good pizza place and I was thankful to have my brother in law with me so that I could order something besides cheese and meat. We had walked over to the restaurant in a bit of a drizzle (spitting), but thankfully the rain waited to pour down until after we were inside. We got a bit wet walking to the Mall for the fireworks. My umbrellas are not of the highest quality, as we purchased them last 4th of July from the umbrella guy on the street. When we arrived at my favorite spot looking at Lincoln, the rain stopped for awhile. My sister was not a loyal fan of the lighted Lincoln Memorial and would have chosen a different vantage point, but I like to be so close to the fireworks that you smell the smoke, hurt your ears, and feel yourself shake from the explosions. Not as close as my Pastor, however, who got burned this year from a firework that hit him in the chest and started his clothing on fire. That would be a little too close for me. (Yes, Mom. Dennis is O.K. He taught Sunday School this morning. Although I think he was a little taken aback when the worship team sang, “Lord, Light the Fire Again.”) Last year, Zeke refused to hear or see the fireworks. I had to plug his ears and he kept his eyes clamped shut. This year, at least he looked at them, but any time I would attempt to remove my hand from his ears to adjust the umbrella, he would scream and cry. So, we got a little wet. The kids declared the fireworks, “Awesome!” We then walked back to the hotel. I was thankful that I didn’t have to drive my way out of the city.

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The next morning, we took our last tour in DC. We walked through the White House and I finally saw the Green Room, the Blue Room, and the Red Room. Now when I hear on the news that the briefing will be in the Green Room, I can say I’ve been there. The portraits and art, furniture and paneling, fireplace and chandeliers deserved an endless speech from our Library of Congress tour guide. Lucky for me, it was a self guided tour. There was a library about which a sign declared its many purposes, none of which was “reading books.” I am not sure why, in DC, libraries are not about books. It is very odd. Marie saw a great view of the Washington Monument. I admired some nice paneling. I hate the paneling in my basement, but the paneling in the White House is fabulous. There is a grand piano in there that would have provided a nice accompaniment to our walking tour. Marie was trying to view the rooms at a moderate pace. I was trying to keep all the kids in my sights. Zeke told me, “I need to carry Uncle Richard.” After our tour was completed, and we departed the visitor center. Police pulled up around us and told us to stay where we were. We watched the motorcade enter the White House. I saw only the Secret Service Guys. They are very large men and they carry really big guns. I stood real still and smiled politely. One guy waved at Marie, but she was too stunned to get the picture. The Wiitas are now safely home in Minnesota. I’ve washed the sheets and towels and need only to purchase some new umbrellas in preparation of my next DC sightseeing adventure.

We have been out and about with my sister and her family since their arrival. We started at Mount Vernon on Saturday. It is a lovely place and I highly recommend it. When we first entered, we got behind a tour group. We didn’t understand much of what the tour guide said. I suspect it was because she was speaking Spanish. We then came upon a replica of the Liberty Bell. Zeke enjoyed ringing it. At Mount Vernon, people dressed in period costumes stand at different locations and repeat the same speech over and over to everyone who walks by. At the replica Liberty Bell, the guy spoke of the tree that provided the wood for the cross brace and then cautioned everyone, “Grab the rope, pull it hand over hand slowly, not too fast or you’ll hurt your ears.” You can usually determine by the sound of the bell whether or not the individual speaks English. I enjoyed looking through the house. The baby crib and the key to Bastille were unique. I suspect that Rich enjoyed looking at the farm. Although he has been an Electrical Engineer for years, I believe he still has a fondness for chicken coops and barns. Marie enjoyed the museum and would not be hurried by her sister who enjoys glancing at a few things while moving forward at a steady pace. All the kids, save Zeke, loved the film about the battle of Yorktown. The seats shook during bombardment and they blew fog and snow at you. It was loud and had a few fight scenes, so Zeke cried throughout most of it. At one point I tried to take my hands off his ears to point to the falling snow, but he screamed and grabbed my hand back. When it was done, all the kids were talking about how great it was and he joined the chorus, informing me that he liked it. I sometimes think I make a great tour guide. Then, I do something like leave Mount Vernon on the wrong road and don’t realize my mistake until I’m about to cross the Potomac River. Note to self: “Just because the road you are on dead ends into Mount Vernon, you can not assume that it is the only road that dead ends into Mount Vernon.” When we left home, I had written my directions down and constantly checked them on the drive there to keep my self on track. My sister thought it a bit unnecessary. I told her that she didn’t understand how easily I can get lost. On our departure from Mount Vernon, she was able to see for herself. The interstate home was at a crawl, so we got on Highway 1 which was also at a crawl, but has the added bonus of a Five Guys and JoJo’s Ice cream stand along the way.

Our next tour consisted of walking the three mile loop of DC monuments. We started at FDR which everyone liked, visited Jefferson, walked past the Washington monument, through the WWII memorial, along the Vietnam wall, up Lincoln’s steps, and past the Korean memorial on the way back. Visiting the memorials on the Mall is the best part of DC. Some, I am incredibly fond of and others not so much, but I love to walk them. Every time someone jogged past me, I would think, “In just over a month, that could be Dale running during his lunch break.” When we lived in Canberra, he loved to run the bridges during lunch and I imagine he’ll pick up the habit again. It will be a bit more scenic of a route than his current tank trail.

After the monuments, I drove home and the Wiitas went to the Air and Space museum. They touched the moon rock, looked at the pictures of the Hubble Telescope, and wandered amidst all the planes and rockets. On Tuesday, we attended our official tours of the Capitol and Library of Congress that Marie had arranged through her Minnesota Senator. We started in the Senate office building and we were escorted by an Intern who was on break from University. He was a very nice, engaged the kids, pointed things out, but kept us moving. We got to ride the train that runs underground between the Senate offices and the Capitol. Zeke and I thought that was great fun. I had ridden on it when I visited DC during high school and was just as thrilled about it 20+ years later. We stared in amazement at the columns and statues and paintings. We saw King Kamehameha’s statue in the corner and thought fondly of the Wiita visit to Hawaii. After our tour, we ate in the Senate Cafeteria. There was a time not long ago, when I avoided cafeterias at all cost, but I was actually happy to pick up my tray and push it along the stainless steel track. I’m afraid there may be no going back and I’ll end up like my Father who I kept thinking would love the place. After lunch, we walked through the Botanic Gardens which were a small bit of peaceful beauty in the midst of the busy city where drivers like me unintentionally view the Capitol from all directions. It was all going so well.

Then, our tour luck ran out at the Library of Congress. I do not have a fondness for tours, unless my tour guide moves quickly and tells me a few interesting tidbits I don’t know. We were the dividing line for two separate groups and my sister tried to signal me that it would be better if we stayed with the final group. I have had 41 years to learn that my sister is always right, and have spent 41 years defying her decisions. I led us all into the middle group. From the minute our tour guide started speaking, I once again was forced to acknowledge that my sister is always right. He talked on and on and on and on and on and on about the architecture and art of the building. He pointed out every Roman goddess, explained every cherub, talked about statue size, told us of every paint color, and type of marble used. He had a script in his head and there was no stopping him. The question asking people were answered with a part of the script even if it didn’t apply at all. “Books!” I wanted to scream. “The Library of Congress is about books!” “Why won’t you tell us anything about books?” As a painful hour went by, I began plotting how to extract 11 people from a tour group of 25 without getting noticed. When we finally got up into the main Reading Room overlook, people collapsed onto the floor and put their heads into their hands. Never take the tour of the Library of Congress. Walk in, look around yourself, and walk out in an hour. When you see the tour group standing with a glazed look in their eyes, pass quickly by lest you get entrapped listening to the occupations of each and every cherub on the staircase.