My Home Town

This is my home town. Being born in this place has always been a great source of pride for me. I have a distinct memory of sitting on the lawn at the base of the Washington Memorial when I was about 3 years old and looking up at it from my comparatively insignificant viewpoint. Having moved to California shortly after that occasion, our family returned for a visit when I was 16 years old. Among the many sites we visited was the Lincoln Memorial which was a surprisingly moving experience (a first of that nature for me) and one that I have never forgotten.

I am not sure if it is because it is my birthplace or because I love my country but I have an enormous sense of admiration and affection come over me whenever I gaze upon even so much as a photograph of it. It is a feeling that is difficult for me to describe. Perhaps the word 'longing' comes close to what I feel. I long to walk down its streets, up the steps of the Capital and into the enormous rotunda with its distinctive artwork. Another fantasy of my imagining is being permitted to enter the White House at Christmas time while the snow falls - or in direct contrast - experience the crushing humidity of August because I know that shortly a drenching rain will begin and I can relish the tremendous thunder and lightning. I long to be there so that I am more keenly aware of each history-making event that takes place.

This leads me to a similar longing, which is that whosoever is privileged to live in the White House be somehow worthy of it. Foreordained even. It should be a place where goodness dwells. That is how I feel about it. It is important for our nation and our people and our future and therefore important to me. I pray that this may be so.