I’m sitting in a hole-in-the-wall breakfast place, wondering what “scrapple” is, and do I want it with my waffles while gazing at Ford’s Theater, when my cell phone rings. It’s my mother and, while she doesn’t know what scrapple is either, she does have news to tell me.
It was Wednesday morning. She thought I might like to know the school space study had passed.
I let out a small cheer. It was a little bit of Grafton, right in the middle of Washington D.C. All around us, people were discussing national politics; outside a cart was selling shirts with the faces of Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton and John McCain. The heck with all of that, for the moment.
Of course, this is still the beginning of what’s going to be a lot of work. Now that the study’s approved, we have to… you know… study the issue. Figure out how to tackle the high school space needs. New building? New addition? A series of floating classrooms on Lake Ripple? Can it be done economically? If we build it, can we afford to staff it?
Flash forward to Thursday afternoon. We’re all tired, sweaty and sore from three days of more walking than we normally do in an entire month, and we’re heading back to the hotel after a day at the zoo. The family passing us looks somewhat familiar and, sure enough, the boy calls out my son’s name. It’s a teammate from Little League and he has good news: they’ve made it through the playoffs and will face off in the final Saturday.
It’s a small world. Visit pandas from China, bump into neighbors. Eat waffles across the street from Lincoln’s assassination site, in the political vortex of the nation, find out about the Grafton vote.
Thanks for updating the blog, Chris. Mom wouldn’t have known the results without you!