We walked and we gawked.
Candidates for the Director's job were in the building. We saw none of them.
We walked past a Naval memorial which I found impossible to photograph, so I looked across the street and saw The National Archives.... or what turned out to be the back of the National Archives.
That's the thing about Washington, D.C. There's always something to see.
Perhaps the best view of a lot of it is from the balcony of the Newseum.
The view goes on for miles in the other direction, too.
It's a perfect frame for the Newseum itself. You look out to the seats of power and wealth and pockets of despair and then you go inside, to see how it is reported.... how it was reported.... a long long time ago.
1660.... this was hot news. The article is sincere and concerned and is no weirder than reading about Pippa's wedding last weekend.
The reason Daddooooo saved his WAR IS DECLARED newspapers (which disintegrated when I tried to rescue them) was to record a moment in time. This ad had me wondering if Mr. 13 might have signed on for this... if not for loving his mother so much.
There were Pulitzer Prize galleries and small theaters and a Comics gallery with Pogo
who made me smile and begin to sing, sotto vocce, Deck us all with Boston Charlie......
Of course, there was the serious side, too.
This is the Times Square Bomber's car.
The actual car.
And those artifacts were found in and around the vehicle.
The serious stuff lent itself to reading rather than photographing.
The schoolkids (and there were lots of them, color coded by t-shirt) were amazed and appalled and surprised by that which was part and parcel of my life and I smiled and felt old and experienced and full. I suppose that's a pretty good epithet for a splendid afternoon.