Time is wastin', time is walkin'

The Locomotion (Kylie Minogue version) 

Kylie Minogue releases her cover of the old favorite the year I'm in kindergarten. Day after day, we build small "stages" with the wooden blocks in our classroom and use the short, round, dowel-like sticks as microphones. None of us know what "locomotion" is, but the song sure is catchy.

Baby Baby (Amy Grant) 
During our summer visits, my sister and cousins and I choreograph elaborate dances in their music room, and it is very hush-hush--NO GROWNUPS ALLOWED. One afternoon, as we're rocking out to Amy Grant, I spot a tiny red light at the top of the stairs leading into the room. Our aunt is lying on her stomach in the dark, secretly videotaping our antics. We shriek and yell, and she laughs and laughs. 

Time (Hootie and the Blowfish) 

The concept of "wingman" has not yet been introduced to us, but I find myself in that role at the seventh grade dance. My friend is dancing with Brad, on whom she has a tremendous crush, and I am forced to take one for the team to dance with his friend Chris. Both of us are less than thrilled at this development and we are the definition of awkwardness, hands on hips and shoulders, arms locked at the elbows, shuffling reluctantly from foot to foot. I think to myself that this is the worst song EVER for a slow dance. When the music mercifully ends, I am furious with my friend, not only because I had to dance with Chris, but because she has nearly ruined Hootie and the Blowfish for me.

I Swear (All-4-One) 

In effort to hold our attention amidst the marches and waltzes, our sixth-grade band director programs All-4-One's current hit on our spring concert. It opens with a big trumpet solo, performed by JS, with whom I am in the midst of a tumultuous, on-again-off-again "relationship." (Though we are "going out," we rarely acknowledge each other in public and endure incessant teasing by his six-year-old-sister.) My 11-year-old heart finds it impossibly romantic, as if he is playing the song just for me. (Years later, I tell him this story, and he laughs so hard that he nearly sprays soda through his nose.)

Half Moon Rising (Yonder Mountain String Band) 

Sophomore year of college, I meet a guy who grew up an hour from my hometown--the closest of anyone I've met so far at school. Because I am, in his view, woefully ignorant of "good" bands, he makes me piles of mix CDs full of music from the sublime to the, um, less sublime. But between before-he-was-famous Jason Mraz and Kalai (and, randomly, some old-school George Michael), he slips in this anthem to the mountains where we grew up. It reminds me of home, and I listen to it over and over and over.

Livin' on a Prayer (Bon Jovi) 

The Bon Jovi concert is winding down, and G is on the edge of a righteous fit -- they have not played her song. But finally, as the unmistakable chords begin, the crowd -- and G -- figure out what's coming. Twenty-thousand people belt the chorus to Livin' on a Prayer at the tops of their lungs, and it is without question a religious experience of its own kind.


**Thanks to Alice for the post idea.

Old friends, bookends...

June was a busy month, beginning with my cousin Carissa's high school graduation and ending with a week in the North Carolina mountains and my cousin Elliott's wedding near Atlanta, plus a whole lot of work-related stuff thrown in there in the middle.  And aside from all the festivities with both sides of my extended family, I managed to shoehorn in some quick visits with some old friends.

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In North Carolina, I reconnected, pretty much by accident, with my old pal Sarah Ellen.  We were camp friends who saw each other for exactly six days each year during a church music week we attended with our families from the time we were tiny until we graduated from high school.  We kept in touch for a while, but as life progressed, we lost touch.  In recent years I scoured Facebook--no luck--and Googled her periodically, but got nowhere.  But I ran into her sister at music week this year, and lo and behold, Sarah Ellen was coming up later in the week!  And wow, was it good to see her--reunited after a full ten years.

Reunited, and it feels so good

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Mo was my best friend in high school.  She was a year older, and when she graduated and headed off to the University of Tennessee--along with a sizable majority of my other good friends--I was a bit lost.  Her family moved to New York City partway through college, making visiting opportunities limited, but we were a regular presence in each other's email and voicemail boxes, I was her maid of honor when she married her awesome husband Justin, and we remained close.  A few years ago, Mo and Justin had a baby, and somehow our friendship sort of....fizzled.  I don't remember exactly how or why. Suddenly, it had been nearly four years since we'd had any contact, though I'd thought about her many times in the interim, and it just seemed stupid.  

I have this theory that there comes a point in your life where you sort of stop making new friends. Not stop entirely, as though you suddenly become a hermit and don't meet new people, but there comes a point where you're done making those BEST friend kinds of people--the ones who remember when you cracked a raw egg on your head in front of 60 of your sixth grade peers, or with whom you spent an evening rinsing orange juice out of an entire suitcase of clothing in your hotel room at senior band clinic, or who suffered through countless nights of fire alarms with you in college.  The ones for whose weddings you'll travel to random midwestern towns, requiring a layover, a rental car, and multi-night hotel stays. Those are the people with whom you develop a friendship shorthand, and there comes a point where starting those kinds of relationships becomes rare. (Or maybe it's only me.  If so and I'm just antisocial, please, let me live with this delusion. It'll be better for everyone.)

Anyway, based on this theory, it seemed like letting one of those people go without a fight was a pretty dumb idea.  Mo lives a mere four hours away from me.  In a city where part of my family lives.  There was no excuse. This could not, nay, WOULD not, go on.

So, a few days before I went to Pittsburgh for Carissa's graduation, I sent an exploratory Facebook message.  How about, say, lunch?  She was game.  And so, on my way back to DC after graduation events, I made a detour.  And voila!

Old friends, plus one

Mo and Justin met me for brunch, I met their hilarious son, and we caught up on as much of the last few years as we could cover over a two-hour meal.  A month later, I got a two-word response to some comment on my Facebook page and burst into laughter.  It wasn't anything outwardly funny, but there was that friendship shorthand again, sending me straight back to high school and our hijinks in the French horn section of the wind ensemble.

The decade that was

On New Year’s Eve 1999, I went to a party. It was held by a guy from school—not a close friend, but a fellow band member with whom I had numerous mutual friends. I don’t remember how I ended up there. All I remember is watching “Good Morning, Vietnam.” At 11:30, I was bored and went home. I rang in the millennium in my pjs, with my family, and was asleep by 12:15.

A lot has happened since then.

2000: With my family, went abroad for the first time to Austria, Germany, and Liechtenstein and developed a taste for travel.

2001: Graduated from high school; started college; met Jules, Michael, and Ashley

2002: Apparently nothing happened in 2002. That I can remember.

2003: Picked a major (and a minor)

2004: Spent semester in London; met Ed, Val, J, Annie, and Karen; was offered an internship that that would turn into a career; traveled around England and to Ireland, France, and Italy

2005: Graduated from college; got my first (paid) job—financial independence!

2006: Got promoted

2007: Bought a car; moved into my own apartment

2008: Quit a job and started a new one

2009: Got promoted

A lot happened over the last ten years, but the thing that has stuck with me most is that in the 00s, I met the people who would become my second family—some here in D.C. and some not near enough.

On New Year’s Eve 2009, I made chili, watched the Vols lose their bowl game, and then walked to Ed & Val’s apartment. With them and J and Heather, we played Scrabble and Apples-to-Apples, watched Anderson Cooper and Kathy Griffin, and toasted the new year. Not a bad way to start the new decade.

Story time

As many people know, Washington had, at one point, a fairly high crime rate. To this day, every time I’m home Betty Jo, a rather nutty lady at my church, says to me, “But it’s so dangerous! Aren’t you scared living there?” To which I reply that most of the city is quite safe, and I tend to avoid the areas that aren’t. Not to mention that this is the seat of government, home of (huge and fancy) embassies, and a tourist hotspot. But to listen to Betty Jo, you’d think I lived in South Central LA in the '80s.

That said, in the seven years that I’ve lived in Washington, I have experienced exactly two, shall we say, unsettling incidents. Today is story time here at Unagi, so I shall tell you about them.

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Unsettling Incident #1

It was December of 2003. Jules, Miguel, our friend Iain, and I had just had dinner and finished visited the White House Christmas Tree. We were walking down F Street to the Metro when a lady crossed the street and called, “Excuse me!” Jules and Miguel kept walking. Iain and I stopped.

That, it turned out, was a mistake.

She said that she was from Baltimore and had been in town volunteering with some sort of Catholic charity, but her purse had been stolen and she had no money to get home. We told her we didn’t have any cash, but offered to wave down a cop for help, but she freaked out at the suggestion. At that point, we noticed her bloodshot eyes and bitten down fingernails. Stranded do-gooder? Not so much. Tweaked out druggie? Bingo!

For ten minutes, she begged for money and we tried to extricate ourselves from the situation. Eventually, we gave her three dollars and she left.

Jules and Miguel, it should be noted, were standing behind a column, out of sight, avoiding the whole situation.

“I could tell immediately that she was high,” said Miguel, ever helpful.

“And it didn’t occur to you to come rescue us?” I replied.

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Unsettling Incident #2

This one goes down really well at parties. A couple of years ago, I was walking home from Friendship Heights—home to Neiman Marcus, Saks, and numerous other high-end stores—after an afternoon of shopping. It was the middle of the day, with people out enjoying the nice weather, and I was moseying down Wisconsin Avenue, with my Booeymonger’s iced tea in one hand and a shopping bag (probably from Ann Taylor Loft—I can’t be sure, but really, what are the odds?) in the other, minding my own business.

A lady was approaching from the other direction on the sidewalk. She was pushing a Cart O’Stuff, as many of the homeless in this city do, and she appeared to be talking to herself, but that’s not really all that unusual in this town, so I thought nothing of it. But then! Our respective paths met, and she suddenly yelled “AAAAHHHHH!” and hauled off and walloped me—HARD—in the arm with an umbrella!

$#%&*?!?!?!

I, obviously, picked up the pace to get away from the crazy lady, who had proceeded in the other direction as if nothing had happened. But a half-a-block later, I abruptly stopped, looked around wildly to see if anyone had witnessed the proceedings (there was no one else in the vicinity), and said, loudly, to no one in particular, “Did that SERIOUSLY just happen?!”

And that, friends, is the story of The Time I Was Assaulted By a Homeless Woman in Broad Daylight on Wisconsin Avenue. Not in Anacostia, or northeast DC, or even the more questionable areas downtown, but in tony* upscale, normal FRIENDSHIP FREAKING HEIGHTS.

*UPDATED Friday at 1:36PM:
Dude. Never have I received so much ridicule as for this stupid adjective. IT'S A WORD. Dictionary.com confirms it! It comes up as a synonym for "stylish". Don't you people read?

1.20.09

I went alone.

That wasn’t the plan. Val and I were supposed to go together, as Ed was working. But at about 8pm last night, she called with the news that she had a scored a ticket through Ed.

On to plan B! I called Nick and Shelley. We made arrangements to meet up at 8:15am. I was ready to roll. Clothes were laid out. Necessities—cash, Chapstick, keys, Metro card, granola bars, camera, cell phone—were neatly tucked in coat pockets, to avoid having to carry a purse.

At 11:15, I had just turned out the light when my cellphone rang. “Um, Hannah?” It was Shelley. “We sort of…just got tickets.”

So I was on my own, or at least I’d have to wait until tomorrow to see who else would be headed downtown, and where they’d be.

I got on the Metro at 7:40am. It was full, but not the sardine tin that I’d anticipated.

A few minutes after 9am, after 30 minutes on the Metro and nearly an hour of trekking—the long way, since 7th and 14th Streets were not, as previously announced, open to cross the Pennsylvania Avenue parade route—around the parade route and down to the Mall, I found a spot on the Washington Monument grounds, facing the Capitol, with an easy view of a jumbotron, which was replaying the We Are One concert from Sunday afternoon. My attempt to walk down the Mall to get closer to the Capitol was foiled by the ubiquitous security forces, who had closed off the Mall because it was already full.

DAR Constitution Hall, where Marian Anderson was banned from singing
in 1939, leading to her famous concert on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial

I texted a bunch of people to see who was down on the Mall. And! CZ! Guess where she was? At the Washington Monument! For about ten seconds, I thought about trying to find her, before I realized that the odds of spotting someone in the hundreds of thousands already surrounding the monument was slim to none. So I stayed put. Over the next hour, the Washington Monument grounds also filled to capacity, and by around 10, I was so wedged in that I had to say “excuse me” to the guy next to me whenever I raised my arm to take a photo or attempt a text message.

I couldn't raise my arms, so the guy next to me
took this (very close up) photo.

Was it weird being alone? No, and it was kind of great. The mood was buoyant, with people conversing with their neighbors and waiting patiently for the festivities to begin. I was temporarily adopted by two huge black men who stood next to me, one a pastor (Pastor Willie from a church in NE Washington) and his friend, visiting from Brooklyn for the occasion. They provided their own commentary for most of the day and, as the crowd jostled around, made sure I could see. A group of 30-something scientists—all of them quite tall, except for one girl who perched on a crate—stood in front of me (until Pastor Willie and his friend shifted around so I could see). Another gentleman stood to my left and did not open his mouth the entire time.

The view behind me. Note that the crowd
stretches up around the Washington Monument.

The crowd cheered as various dignitaries and VIPs took their seats on the platform. The biggest cheers were received by Ted Kennedy, Jimmy Carter, and—twice the volume of anyone else—Bill Clinton. I helped my neighbors identify people as they were introduced.

“Who’s that?” “That’s Joe Biden’s mother.”
“Who’s that? He looks familiar?” “Howard Dean.” “Oh, right.”
“Who are those girls?” “The Bush twins.” “But who’s the guy with them?” “That’s Jenna’s husband, Henry Hager.”
“HEY, Beyonce! And there’s Diddy!” (They didn’t need my help for those.)

But then the crowd spotted Malia and Sasha Obama, and they went BERSERK.
And then Michelle. More hollering.
And then the President-Elect himself. Flags waved wildly. The noise was deafening. “O-BA-MA! O-BA-MA!”

So. Many. People.

Aretha took the stage, prompting more cheers from the crowd, plus comments on her festive topper. “That,” said Pastor Willie, “is a Sunday-go-to-meetin’ hat.”

As soon as the oath was complete, the crowd went nuts again. Everybody was hugging everybody else. People pulled out their cameras and photographed or videotaped the scene. Tears were plentiful. It was a joyous moment.

Obama takes the oath.

Getting home was an adventure in itself. The crowd oozed slowly toward the exit points, with no one able to tell where the exit points actually were and just hoping that the crowd was going in the right direction. (It was a well-behaved ooze, though. “This is the ruliest crowd I’ve ever seen,” said one guy during the exodus. “Ruliest?” “Yeah, opposite of unruliest.” And he was right. All day, massive crowds were inescapable, and things were confusing, and people had to walk A LOT. And stand in a tiny amount of space for A LONG TIME. And people were calm and pleasant and go-with-the-flow about everything. It was remarkable.) We slowly oozed off the monument grounds, then up Constitution to Virginia Ave to 23rd Street. And from there I walked north to Dupont, where I bought a newspaper, hopped on the Metro (amazingly, with no trouble or delay), and got home around 2:15.

The crowd oozes, at a glacial pace, past idling tour buses.

It was tiring. I am sore. My toes are still a little numb. But I would not have missed it for the world, and I will not soon forget it.

Yay!

Dude Moments

People often get reflective around the new year. I don’t like to conform, of course, so it has taken me until the 14th day of the year to get there.

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When we were in London, Ed and I had these things that we called “Dude Moments.” These were instances when we would suddenly realize where we were or what we were doing and one of us would stop and say, “Dude… Can you believe we’re here?” Given the number of new and awesome experiences that semester, we had a lot of Dude Moments.

Anyway, do you ever have one of those moments? The ones where you think to yourself, ‘Dude. How great is this?’ I’ve been doing that a lot recently. I have a wonderful family; friends who I can count on and who make me laugh; a rewarding and challenging job; a great little apartment of my own in a city I love; and a lot of good books. I mean, really, what else is there?

I have these moments fairly regularly, which I think makes me a pretty lucky person. Just this year, I’ve probably had hundreds, but there have been a few that I can remember in the last several months (some of which I’ve already talked about, notably November 4, 2008, when much of the country was having a collective Dude Moment), and—in the interest of reflection and whatnot—I shall share them with you now.

1) October 30, 2008: I sat in a small room in the U.S. Supreme Court with 190 other people, among them the Justices of the Supreme Court, Plácido Domingo, and other local and government persons-of-interest, listening to Renée Fleming sing “Deep River,” and thinking, “How on earth did I end up here?”

2) August 29, 2008: Lola the Corolla was at full capacity as I drove back from BWI with a car full of people, a trunk full of luggage, and six conversations going on at one time—which was saying something since there were just five of us—me, Jules, Miguel, Ash, and Jason—in the car. The Trio, once inseparable, is spread across the country now, but our annual rendezvous is a joyous event—and a loud one.

3a) December 21, 2008: I stood in the choir loft at my home church, with Mom on my left, Dad on the podium, a full orchestra in front of me, and the glorious sounds of the Munsey choir seriously bringing it on Handel’s Messiah, when suddenly, the glorious sound of a trumpet—and one, in particular, that I’d know anywhere—burst forth from behind me. It surprised the hell out of me (though I’m not sure why, because what self-respecting choir director forgets to hire a trumpet player for the Hallelujah Chorus? Certainly not my father!), but brought the biggest smile to my face. (Also bringing a smile to my face? When my father, five bars from the end of the piece, snuck a peek at his watch while conducting. What, you can't wait another ten seconds?)
3b) December 25, 2008: I considered not mentioning this, since it happens every year, but whatever. Christmas Eve worship is my absolute, undisputed favorite two-hour period of the entire year, from beginning to end. It also happens to be the one time of the year when I want to be a soprano. It wouldn’t be Christmas without G rolling her eyes at me as I squeak my way through the descants. And at the end, in the first few minutes of Christmas Day, hundreds of candles are lifted skyward simultaneously on the final stanza of “Joy to the World,” and I literally get chills.

4) November 18, 2008: The Israel Philharmonic performed at the Kennedy Center, conducted by Gustavo Dudamel, and it was, bar none, one of the most incredible musical experiences I’ve ever had. Aside from the stellar performances of Tchaikovsky’s 4th and Brahms’ 4th symphonies, the orchestra began first with the national anthem—and, of course, many people sang along. But then they launched into the national anthem of Israel—a gorgeous, haunting melody—and, amazingly, much of the audience sang along with that, too! It was a powerful moment, and one I’m not likely to forget anytime soon.

5) October 14, 2008: At her request, we kept the festivities for Val’s birthday small this year—just a low-key dinner with her, Ed, J, and me. Since J doesn’t live here anymore, it was the first time in a long while that just the four of us had spent any time together since the Roommate (Plus Val) Dinners that we regularly had at the River Road house, and it was fabulous. Thus, they were the perfect three people to spend the first few (awake) hours of 2009 with at brunch on New Year’s Day.

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So anyway, there it is. 2009 will bring many new challenges, adventures, trips, and people. Oh, and weddings. Lots of weddings. But ’08 was a good year. Thanks to all those who were along for the ride.

Little known facts*

Many of my favorite blogs have these sections called "100 Things" (or some variation) where they list a bunch of random facts about themselves, so I--being devoid of anything interesting to say these days--decided to give it a go. I made it through 64 facts, and then I read back through them and realized DUDE, this is BORING. Except for a few of them, which actually made me laugh and which may not be common knowledge. So, in lieu of a real post, I offer you Random Tidbits of Hannah-ness:

1) When I was in 6th grade, we were studying medieval times in all our classes, and my English teacher invited my father in to sing medieval ballads to our class. OH, THE MORTIFICATION. Having your dad sing "Scarborough Fair" and assorted other ditties in front of all your friends (and, worse, enemies) ranks somewhere just below getting your braces tightened and above getting your hand slammed in the car door. Shockingly, he seemed surprised by this. (He also came to my class in preschool dressed as an elf, or something, and played the tin whistle. Apparently I was much more receptive then.)

2) I was a band nerd in high school (GO TOPPERS!!!!) and marched in both the Rose Parade and the Macy's Parade. For Macy's, I was one of the drum majors, and I was responsible for making sure none of us ran into anything (since we marched backwards), so I spent the entire parade looking over my shoulder, watching for manhole covers and curbs and the float in front of us. I needed a serious massage once we were done.

3) The only C that I ever got in high school was the first time through Algebra II (I ended up taking it again later because I couldn't stand to have it on my transcript). I blame it on my friend John and Tetris on my calculator.

4) After having traveled the subway systems in Washington, London, Paris, Boston, and Toronto with no problems, I spent years being baffled by the New York subway. I finally conquered it this spring, and the personal satisfaction that I derived from it cannot be put into words.

5) I have had exactly one illegal (under-age) drink in my life, consumed two days before my 21st birthday when my high school friend BMac threw me a surprise party at his apartment. It was half of a Bailey's milkshake, and I felt guilty about it the entire night.

6) That was the second of three surprise birthday parties that I've had: age 17 (by my high school friend Monica), age 21 (BMac), and age 23 (Jay, Ed, and Jules).

7) I have traveled to 22 states and eight foreign countries (Canada, England, Ireland, France, Italy, Germany, Austria, and Liechtenstein). This does not count states/countries where I have landed (like in the airport), but not actually spent any meaningful time. (For instance, I have flown through the Zurich airport, but I don't count Switzerland as a place I've visited.)

8) At parties, I'm the girl who cleans up (even when it's not my house).

9) One evening, a couple of years ago, Jay and I were dressed to go out on a Friday night, but we ended up playing Scrabble and falling asleep on the floor of the living room, fully dressed, before 10pm.

(Wow, I sound like kind of a loser, don't I?)

10) Despite attending college in D.C., I never took a political science class. Plenty of international studies and global communications stuff, but no straight U.S. poli sci.

11) The first time I was ever asked out was in a note "disguised" (badly) as a questionnaire and stuck in my locker. I chickened out and said no. But I think I still have the note somewhere.

12) I have a song for every occasion. It is a useful skill (if sometimes obnoxious), and I credit my parents for it. (*The title of this post, for instance, was inspired by a song. First one to guess wins... my undying love and respect.)

13) I think Julie Andrews hung the moon.

14) My southern accent only emerges when I'm tired or mad or both (and occasionally if I'm talking to someone from home). I do, however, say "ya'll" a lot.

15) The first musician/group that I ever fell in love with was Simon & Garfunkel. It was junior year of high school, and I vividly remember buying the Greatest Hits album. It also provided the soundtrack for one of the more memorable weekends of my adolescent life, a band trip to Miami.

16) No! Wait! That's not true! Hootie and the Blowfish came first, in seventh grade (I had Cracked Rear View on CASSETTE, ya'll) but their impact on my life was not as lasting as Simon & Garfunkel, which endures as one of my favorite albums to this day.

17) In college, Jules and I would lay out complete sets of clothes every night before bed in case of a fire alarm, which we had at least once a week during sophomore year. I always had to climb out of the top bunk and nearly killed myself every time.

18) I am afraid of rollercoasters, but I don't know why. I don't mind heights or speed, and I don't get carsick easily, but they scare me to death.