Most importantly, it makes me think about when I was working on the Hill and how awesomely politically nerdy everyone was. Sure, we liked to eat and drink at the various Happy Hours sponsored by random associations (the good people who make candy wrappers) and countries (this one had the best food, EVER, hands down) -- and we had to, because free food and alcohol were imperative when you are making $20K a year, living in the sixth most expensive city in the US, and having to wear suits and other dry-clean-only apparel every day -- but for events like the SOTU, we would all gather at a local dive bar and drink heavily and applaud and yell and talk back to the television and each other. Sure, there were arguments between staffers with radically opposing viewpoints -- you know, like the one who worked for Thurmond never agreed with the one who worked for Kohl -- but it was all in good fun. Somehow I don't think people are quite as congenial there these days -- their bosses certainly aren't. But, we got our wonk on and had a blast doing it.
Living in DC again with my husband after law and graduate school was a completely different experience. But we did live on the Hill and I once again got to go to the Hawk 'N' Dove to watch the SOTU. This time I was an adult, and while it was nowhere near as fun as when I was 22 (sorry, honey!) it was a sweet time before having kids, in a city with great mass transit and where we could walk 10 minutes to get to just about everything we needed, and it was just the two of us having great discussions about politics and everything else. Granted, there was more yelling at the tv because Bush was president, as opposed to Clinton, but it was still a great time.
I feel like the SOTU starts the new year off officially, and I like to look around and think about the state of MY union -- my life, my career, my kids, my big stack of not-yet-started knitting projects -- and maybe make some plans and imagine where I want things to be a year from now and how I'm going to get there. Hopefully, we can kind of just get on with the living part of life, now that the moving and new baby and new school and deaths in the family and everything has all settled down into "normal." But this normal is miles and what feels like lifetimes away from the lives I had in DC...and that's okay.
But on a Tuesday night in late January every year, I remember that I once walked arm-in-arm with an elderly Strom Thurmond around the basement of the Dirksen building and that he said I was a "pretty girl...a pretty, pretty girl." Sure, he was a huge racist, but I'll take the compliment just the same.
But on a Tuesday night in late January every year, I remember that I once walked arm-in-arm with an elderly Strom Thurmond around the basement of the Dirksen building and that he said I was a "pretty girl...a pretty, pretty girl." Sure, he was a huge racist, but I'll take the compliment just the same.
