I took a walk...

I took a walk last night. It was a warm night in our nation's capital, perfect for a stroll after dinner. Walking through the courtyard of the Reagan Trade building, a fairly new structure, I couldn't help but appreciate the architecture and stonework. In a time when current design means glass and steel, exotic composites and soaring heights, it is somewhat heartening to see a building that embraces the structures around it, the history, and the materials. Exiting the arches next to the Environmental Protection Agency, I was treated to a show I would have never imagined on a busy city street. There, beneath the shade trees, cavorting across the carefully landcapded greenery between the sidewalk and sculpted walls were dozens of fireflies. These phosphorescent beetles streaked through the air like the stray embers of fireworks gone by, and it made me smile at how appropriate they should appear at the foot of the EPA.

I joined the throngs of tourists and the few remaining stragglers released from their offices into the night. Negotiating the dwindling evening traffic, I headed in the direction of the reflecting pool. At the eastern edge, sits the National World War Two memorial. These 56 columns identifying our 50 states, the District of Columbia and outlying territories are each adorned with a bronze wreath to honor the fallen soldiers from that great and terrible war. At either side, a soaring arch sits, inscribed with the words Atlantic and Pacific. Gatherered in the shelter of each arch, in a majestic aerie are a group of bronze eagles, suspended from their mighty talons, they hold aloft another memorial wreath.

In the spacious sky over the lighted fountain, the full moon has made her way to sit now over the National Mall. I turn to the footpath by the pool, and head toward the marble temple to the west. The trees lining the way are fully clothed and I can only catch glimpses of the Lincoln Memorial as I walk. I am soon there, though, and climb the steps past groups of schoolchildren excited to be out in the city, after dark. I imagine the echoes of Martin Luther King's "I have a dream" speech mingling with the opera of Marian Anderson, African Americans both denied so much, who showed the world passion, strength and determination on these same steps. As I enter the memorial, the youthful squeals of the school groups diminish, and I find myself in the gaze of our 16 th president, sculpted by the Massachusetts artist Daniel Chester French. To the left, inscribed on the wall is the text of his famous address, given at the battlefield in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. The closing lines in this short, but perhaps most famous oration in history, "It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us-that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion-that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain-that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom-and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth", speak across the ages and remind us, that whatever our petty political differences of the day, our great nation cannot, must not be ripped asunder.

It is a fitting dedication engraved above his head, "In this temple as in the hearts of the people for whom he saved the union, the memory of Abraham Lincoln is enshrined forever". As I follow his gaze back out across the reflecting pool, friend, the moon is peeking around the Washington Monument. This great obelisk stands as an exclamation point of our liberty, and further on, the Capitol Building sits on its hill. This is a true symbol of freedom; for what America's sons and daughters have died for. It is here that we take up the responsibility of governing the nation our ancestors fought to create. Gracing the top of its elegant dome is "Lady Freedom". She stands, draped in her robes, her right hand resting on a sheathed sword, her left holding a wreath of victory. She gazes not on the sights behind her, the great statues and memorials, but eastward, to greet each day as it dawns on our Nation.

Breaking from my reverie, I descend the steps and head to the east along the northern edge of the pool. There are still lively groups of people about, but as we all move back into the shaded pathways, conversations fade and eventually cease. We have arrived at the black wall. Inscribed on this wall, which starts unassumingly at ground level and, as the path dips, rises above our heads, are the names of fallen soldiers from another, bitter war. A war that threatened to divide our nation once again. One such soldier, Major Michael Davis O'Donnell, from a foreign land so far away leaves us with a prayer, "If you are able, save for them a place inside of you and save one backward glance when you are leaving for the places they can no longer go. Be not ashamed to say you loved them, though you may or may not have always. Take what they have taught you with their dying and keep it with your own. And in that time when men decide and feel safe to call the war insane, take one moment to embrace those gentle heroes you left behind." Major O'Donnell was listed KIA in 1978.

Rising to the footpath once again, I find myself almost alone, now. The more than 58,000 names behind me cannot go where I now go, but they are a part of all of us, and we must remember them. Waiting for the traffic lights, I decide to walk up Pennsylvania Avenue. I pass the Organazation of American States, The Constiution Hall at the Daughters of the American Revloution, where once Marian Anderson was denied a performance, the American Red Cross, and eventually I am gently, but firmly guided by the guards to the fence outside "America's House". Across the expanse of lawn, past the stately fountain sits the White House. I stop and wonder what it is like to live and work in such a building. You may agree or disagree with the men and someday women that inhabit this home, but regardless of politics each has been inspired by some vision and dream for America, and the wish to help shape it. It is a fitting end to my evening stroll, as I am nearing my room. I cannot help but reflect on this weekend before Memorial Day, that America is a great nation, shaped by our victories and yes, our mistakes and shames. Like Lady Freedom, gazing into the face of each new day, we must look ahead and vigilantly protect our freedom, but must never forget what lies at our backs.