Friday August 1, 2008... I bid farewell, y'all

When L’Enfant laid out the District of Colombia in the 1790s, he was deliberate, not only in his immediate civil plan for the capital of the new republic, but for growth and development of the seat of government for posterity. He wrote in 1789:


"No nation had ever before the opportunity offered them of deliberately deciding on the spot where their Capital City should be fixed, or of combining every necessary consideration in the choice of situation, and although the means now within the power of the Country are not such as to pursue the design to any great extent, it will be obvious that the plan should be drawn on such a scale as to leave room for that aggrandizement and embellishment which the increase of the wealth of the nation will permit it to pursue at any period however remote."

Habitually in a state of over-analysis, I have labored for the past seven months to characterize my experience. Clichés including “life changing” come to mind, but when asked about “how it is”; I reply with the following anecdote:

During a walk from the US Capitol to the White House, I was struck by the considerable distance between the two when I arrived 35 minutes later at 1600 Pennsylvania. Neither building has changed locations for the better part of 208 years. In a ramshackle developing nation with no transportation infrastructure- the US in the early Nineteenth Century - one would think that the Capitol would be right around the corner from the seat of executive power. Not the case in ca.1800. Not the case today. The city was planned with growth in mind and the government initiated with its powers distinctly separated – right down to the placement of buildings.

After half of a year in the federal government, I’ve become, to say the least, cynical about the state of our inefficient bureaucracy and the paralysis of our legislative body. I haven’t been made cynical about the state of our Union, however. Somehow, 232 years after the signing of the Declaration of Independence, we have come this far and as I walked from the Capitol to the White House, I gained an appreciation for more than just sustainable urban planning… I gained a reverence for the Founding Fathers, the Constitution that they wrote and the wisdom that guided them to do it. Some folks use words like destiny and fate to describe this wisdom. Divine Intervention rings mysteriously truer to me.

To depart from my anecdote, I have also refined my perception of success in national politics.
Washington DC is not short on power. It is severely lacking in deliberate, decisive leadership. In a city where EVERYONE is important, those very few actual leaders are not necessarily the most powerful, rich, or even experienced. Rather, those with character and principle as personal endowments are poised for the greatest success. These individuals don’t rely heavily on money, patronage, the media, the leveraging of influence or any of those stereotypical bastions of political capital. They are simply trustworthy. Their word and commitment are their primary bargaining chip. They will do what they say they will do, when they say they will do it. The result is resounding influence, both with other politicians and with constituencies who allow leeway and provide support back home as they truly trust the leader they selected to manage their stake in the Democratic Republic.

Sic Vos Non Vobis

J. Lee

The Much Anticipated "Scrapple Entry"


Way back in month of January, I lived in the Eastern Market area of Capitol Hill in the white townhouse pictured. It has turned out to be my all- around favorite area of town. Capitol Hill itself is a gentrifying grid of 1890s row houses immersed in history. While it can be pricey and crime is always an issue, there are a number of young families with children who are constantly about and there is a continual friendly air about the place. The market itself stands about eight blocks east of the Capitol on Independence Avenue. The following journal entries detail two of my experiences there:
Saturday, 1/12/08, Market Lunch, Eastern Market

Slept ‘till about 11:00. Well deserved, I think, after working two consecutive 12 hour days. Fell asleep at Chinese restaurant for an hour last night!
Sitting down for lunch at the legendary “Market Lunch”, which serves everything from crab cakes to blueberry buckwheat pancakes. It’s a part of the Eastern Market, which, despite a fire in 2006, has been in continuous operation since 1873 and is 3 blocks from my flat! It is the last of the DC fresh food markets originally envisioned by city planner Pierre L’Enfant in the 1790s. The sights and smells are exquisite and include fresh flounder, choice meates and vegetables, fresh fruit, and even pigs’ feet!

8:12 AM 1/29/08
Market Lunch, Eastern Market
Just had my first taste of what the Yankees call “Scrapple”. It appears to be a patty of some type of fried fat- perhaps pork. Never heard of it ‘till I came up here, but it is so greasy and SO good! Southerners would love it! I had a scrapple, egg and cheese biscuit, combined that with an early morning run around the Capitol, and I’m off to a great morning.
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High Fuel Prices? Why not burn more!?

Crazy protests are a common occurrence and come with the territory in Washington. Whether or not they make a difference, they serve as a check valve for participants– a medium through which to blow off steam. You learn to shrug them off and continue on with business as usual. Thursday, April 10th was a most peculiar day in the District, however as a unique protest culminated shortly before lunch time on Independence Avenue.

Hundreds of dump trucks, their drivers apparently fed up with skyrocketing fuel costs, lined up and paraded past the Departments of Energy, Transportation, and, yes Agriculture. I mean, when an input cost such as diesel fuel gets this high, why not drive around to make sure everyone knows it?

They blew their horns at full blast as they drove. Admittedly, they got my attention – and the attention of at least a few of the 7,500 employees at USDA headquarters.

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Easter Egg Roll = BIRTH CONTROL


So the Monday after Easter, I was privileged to be among the volunteers at the annual White House Easter Egg Roll. Yes, I was ever so grateful to have the chance, but allow me to briefly describe the experience...

Just how many small children and their parents would you allow on the South Lawn of the White House, one of the most secure facilities in the world? 500? 1000? Try 22,000. This thing was NUTS. Picture it for a moment: Kids falling out of every nook and cranny. Noses were running and children screaming. Parents were parading their kids around, dressed in kiddy suits and bowties, with high hopes of running into W. himself. Children were getting tired and cranky, and, yes, there were plenty of kids having a great time.

I worked the “goody bags” line – for six hours- and was proud of it. The most prized possession of the day was a commemorative wooden egg with an engraved signature of the Prez himself. One egg was included with each goody bag – which were ONLY for kids ages 9 and under. When I checked in I was informed by a very empowered woman with an earpiece that the goody bag line workers were the few, the proud, and the heartbreakers:
“You must learn one word ‘no’. Its one bag per child nine and under that is present. I don’t care who their daddy works for, how many other kids they have at home, or what gruesome handicap they have; if they want another bag, you tell them ‘no’. If they get in your face, send them to me and I’ll tell them ‘no’. If they get in my face, the Secret Service can tell them ‘no’ in a more special way.”
She prepared us well. I have never heard more groveling at a free event. I don’t want children for a long, long time. The kids weren’t so bad, but the parents were really an embarrassment. I was swindled, accosted, and cursed. The line was formed by three metal barricades and always jammed with 50-100 people. Some moms went through 5-6 times. Some sent their crying kids back through to get more bags. It was CRAZY! I have sold football programs to 92,000 drunken fans at Sanford Stadium, and I can say that this was much crazier, by far!!! All in all, however, it was a great day in our nation’s capital.

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POTUS



(From Journal)
Thursday, February 7, 2008
National Mall

President's event yesterday was surreal. It was a grand event. Bush was in the USDA South Building Auditorium to swear in Secretary Ed Schafer. He also invited Ag leadership from both parties from Congress AND several members of his cabinet. He wanted to make clear that he would veto Farm Bill if new taxes were present.
I am most impressed with former Acting Secretary Chuck Conner who has now taken a step back to support Ed Schafer. It takes a solid gut to do such a thing. I got my picture made with him.
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Day 1
Monday, January 7, 2008

The words of Professor Izlar ring true: "you DO NOT deserve this!"

I was greeted by my supervisor, a redheaded Texanette, at the door of the Jamie L. Whitten, USDA Federal Building on the National Mall. We then essentially walked straight into a staff meeting where I was introduced to the Deputy Chief of the Forest Service, the Chief of the NRCS, my new boss, the Under Secretary of Agriculture, and my whole office who gazed intently at their new addition. I stammered over my greeting when the Under Secretary interrupted, "who wants to tell the intern that he forgot to tell us his name?"

From there, the preliminaries followed. An ID snapshot, paperwork, boocoos of introductions, but the best one came as my supervisor walked me into US Forest Service Headquarters, the Yates Building, and who happens to walk up but the CHIEF herself! (FYI, in Forestry, the chief, who runs the 35,000 employee, 100+ year old US Forest Service is essentially at the left hand of God Almighty, or at least His heavenly timber cruiser, Gifford Pinchot, the first American forester.) I say "Hi Ms. Gail, I'm Jonathan," and after the ensuing conversation and her departure, I am clearly informed that she is to be called "Chief", not Ms. Gail! Oops.

The surreality climaxed at 2:00 PM when I sat down with the Chief and her Deputy, Sally Collins, as they briefed their boss, who happens to be my boss. His name is Mark Rey, and as the Under Secretary of Agriculture for Natural Resources and Environment, he answers to two people: the Secretary of Agriculture, and the President of the United States. Out the window as I listened, the latter of the two cruised over the National Mall in his Marine One helicopter.
Pinch me please.
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