Came out to Washington to go to a memorial service for Marita. Caught the Acela train from Baltimore airport to Union Station. On the train, a culture shift occurs: white shirts, ties, jackets, business folks, lawyers, expensive cloth...it ain't Colorado (ahhh, the feeling of being a bumpkin). But, then, anyone can buy a small bottle of white wine in the club car to settle down into this new world. And then one arrives, twenty minutes later, in the heart, well one of the hearts, of the District of Columbia (yes, DC does have a heart). The great hall of Union Station, reminding one of how the rails once tied the country together and still do and may do again.
I met Tom with time to share another glass of wine under the barrel vaults of the great hall, before grabbing a taxi to his place on Capitol Hill. And settling in with Charlotte and Halie for an evening meal.
