Rolling on the Rails, Philadelphia-Bound

Crossing the Susquehanna River

Anyone who knows me, knows I love trains. This week I’m working on an essay that is about this particular train trip, but has nothing to do with the reason I headed to Philadelphia in late January — on the heels of a snow and ice storm, in intensely dense fog mixed with dripping drizzle. For part of this particular journey I felt like I was back in Seattle, so enveloped in grayness, that it’s tough to find landmarks outside the grit covered windows of my business class seat.

On to the purpose of my trip. I wanted to meet with my internship organization in-person (hq’d in Philadelphia) for a few reasons, most importantly because over the course of my working life, this organization has been part of it in some fashion since late 1998 — and 25 years means something in the broader scope of how we change and morph our careers over time, but can still find ways to work with organizations and people with whom we’ve connected over vast swaths of time and geography.

For this week’s MFA work, I am tasked with writing about my favorite thing with my internship placement — and hands-down, it is the opportunity to work with people and an organization that I admire, and to foster and continue to build relationships. This reflects also what this organization works on each and every day, as well as these over-time relationships: how do we take what we know, consider new ways to use that knowledge (and in this case historic spaces) and imagine what the future may look like where communities are embraced and welcomed. To me, this speaks to a much larger need across the realm of publishing, as well as writing; it feels that too often, closed doors are more often the case and gatekeepers abound while “new” is set aside, because, “that’s just now how it’s done.” I’m not a particular fan of disruption for disruption’s sake, but it does have its place. As an older, professional woman, these issues are of great concern to me as I continue in the workforce and examine new potential roles inside and outside of publishing, writing and education.

In addition to relationships, the nature of how my internship is evolving is also a favorite aspect — as it not only goes to my skills and interests — but also leads me to my roots of professional life as well, where I can (in those rare moments of quiet) envision roles for myself that combine the best of the old life with the best of a new life. Crossroads would be an apt comparison. So far, I’ve been tasked with writing a 1,500 word profile of a dynamic arts organization and next I’ll be working on case studies; both of these involve interviewing a number of people, figuring out a narrative approach, and weaving the story together. For the profile, it will appear in the spring issue of the organization’s magazine; the case studies will appear on the organization’s blog. Next, I’ll be working on interviewing conference attendees that will lead to a published report/proceedings. I’ll only be tangentially involved in production, but I’ve held that role before, so when we recently went over the production schedule for the spring magazine issue — all kinds of details I hadn’t thought about in a long time came back pretty quickly. All of these actions and activities are in-line with the world of organizational, and scholarly/educational publishing which is a lane in which I feel comfortable and one in which I know I can and will explore more possibilities.

Name Changes, Patina Remains #morningview #15thStreetHistory

The 15th Street Historic District, located just steps from the White House and The Mall, is most likely overlooked by most that visit downtown DC. This corridor aligns and in some cases facades face, the historic Treasury building in Beaux Arts and Queen Anne styles. The photo here, the former National Savings and Trust Bank (now Truist), anchors the corner of 15th and Pennsylvania — its windows keeping solid watch in roundabout fashion toward the southwest and southeast, a day and night watch on an ever challenging streetscape.

Guarding this corner since 1888, it is hard to grasp the sheer number of people that have entered its doors, worked inside, and passed by on its sidewalks. Riots, protests, government shutdowns, pandemics; digging of Metro tunnels, motorcades, inaugurations and funeral processions — all have passed within site of these windows and those that look down to the streetscape from the comfort of being behind the glass. The stoner skateboarder kids clack and crack over the words of Walt Whitman, “Never, til the capital had cost the life of the beautiful and the brave of our land , did it become to the heart of the American citizen” and Frederick Douglass, “Washington has certainly an air of more magnificence than any other American town. It is mean in detail, but the outline has a certain grandeur about it.”

The windows see it all — and hold it all, the words, the clacks and cracks surrounded by a protective glaze of age– perhaps these windows are the heart of Washington: names (and allegiances change), while patina shines despite the rains and hardships that any window must endure.