Inspired at the National Mall

I’m not sure what I thought D.C. would be like.

The Capitol at night...all to ourselves

I’d been before, once on a school field trip in 1980, again a few years later with my dad, though I couldn’t tell you exactly when. And then there was the early ’90s, a trip for a couple of Grateful Dead shows at RFK Stadium. For that one, we barely left the parking lot where we camped, except to wander into the shows themselves.

So in many ways, this felt like my first real visit as an adult and it was Joey’s first trip ever. I suppose I expected it to feel like other major cities we’ve visited, each with their own personality but connected by familiar threads: New York, Portland, Chicago, Atlanta, Los Angeles. D.C., though, felt entirely different. If it reminded me of anywhere else I’ve been, it was London though more in spirit than specifics. The architecture, the river, the deep sense of history, and the constant presence of government buildings and public museums gave it a gravity all its own.

I’m still not sure I can fully articulate what it felt like to be there. But as we walked the National Mall that first night, we couldn’t help commenting, quietly and almost reverently, to ourselves about how majestic everything felt. Regal. Imperial. That might sound dramatic, maybe even a little cheesy, but it’s the only word that fits.

Of course, that’s by design. The scale of the buildings, the wide avenues and boulevards, the generous open spaces framed by monuments, agencies, and elegant museums. All harken back to Rome and to Greek and Roman forms that have been used for millennia to inspire awe, power, and permanence.

We felt inspired… and we also felt the weight of the moment we’re living in.

I can’t say how different it might feel at another time of year, but being there at Christmas added something unexpected. We hadn’t considered how many people in Washington don’t live there full-time, at least not where we stayed, on Capitol Hill just a few blocks from Congress and the Mall. The neighborhood was practically deserted. Our hotel felt the same. Out of hundreds of rooms, maybe half a dozen were occupied. It felt as though the city had been quietly handed over to us.

And it was wonderful.

We walked straight into museums that usually have long lines. With our short window in town, it allowed us to take in far more than we otherwise could, though even then, it was just a taste. A sampling. Enough to whet our appetite for future visits.

We stood a foot away from the Hope Diamond. We walked beneath a T-rex skeleton. We saw works by Van Gogh, Jan van Eyck, Mary Cassatt, Picasso, and so many others.

One room stopped us in our tracks. Its walls were lined with paintings by Italian masters: Lippi, Botticelli, Castagno. But at the center hung the masterpiece: Ginevra de’ Benci by Leonardo da Vinci. The only painting of his in the Americas. Unlike the Mona Lisa, you can stand inches from the glass. Every painting in that room deserved admiration, each remarkable in its own right, but Leonardo’s work is different. I’ve always heard people say that about the Mona Lisa, but until you see something like this in person, it’s hard to understand. It’s timeless. It’s flawless. It exists on another plane entirely. I get it now.

Our visit revolved around the Christmas Day football game between the Washington Commanders and the Dallas Cowboys, and everything surrounding that was fantastic. But staying in the heart of our nation’s capital was the unexpected gift—the bonus we hadn’t even realized we were getting.

As we begin planning the trips we won from What’s in the Box! over the coming months, what we’ve started calling our “Adventure of a Lifetime”, this visit set the tone. A reminder to slow down, take it all in and be open to what’s planned and what’s not.

This was the perfect start. A great kickoff.