Yesterday I gave grand jury testimony against the suspects charged with mugging me. I had never been involved with a grand jury until yesterday, and it was a fairly painless process. A grand jury determines whether there is probably cause to indict the defendants, and thereby bring the case to trial. Neither the defendants nor their attorneys are present, which means that I didn't have to face cross examination.
I was there all day, and hung out with the two men who stopped and called 911 for me. I also got to take them out to lunch -- it was the least I could do. In talking to them, I learned that I had an incomplete version of what happened that night. Apparently, when they showed up, they saw my assailants kicking and punching me, repeatedly. One said he initially assumed that he was witnessing a drug deal gone bad, the other thought it looked like they were pounding on a bicycle. I asked the witnesses if they thought my assailants were stopping, or if the assailants only stopped because the witnesses pulled over. Both of them were pretty sure it was the latter, and that the beating would have continued otherwise. One thing I had known but I don't think I've blogged about it -- it turns out that one of the suspects was already awaiting trial for attempted homicide, which involved the use of a gun.
Already I felt pretty relieved that nothing worse happened to me, but now I'm rather astounded at my "good fortune." Reviewing all my lucky breaks:
1. The two witnesses came by when they did to stop the attack. If they had shown up a minute or two earlier, they might only have seen me talking with my assailants. Had they come by a couple of minutes later, I might have been more seriously injured, &/or the assailants would have been long gone.
2. The only thing stolen was my wallet. True, I don't like being out the cash that was in my wallet, and it's a pain to cancel my credit cards and get a new driver's license, but they could have actually used the credit cards, and they could have stolen my car.
3. Despite being beaten, I had no additional broken bones or bruises -- my injuries were consistent enough with being punched out and landing on my left side to support the assumptions I had made about only being punched once and then falling to the ground (though the amount of abrasions on my left side did seem to be a little more than I would have expected).
4. I have no memory of the beating. I don't know whether it's because I blocked it out, or that I was rendered unconscious with the first punch, but whichever it is, I don't think there's any benefit to have that trauma be part of my memory (other than a generalized desire to have my memories intact).
5. The police were out in massive force that night, enabling a fast response to the 911 call, and the arrest of the two suspects.
6. It appears that I'll have no permanent injuries, and if I do, they will be comparatively minor. All that's lingering (beyond another month or so for the two broken bones to completely finish healing) is some numbness in three teeth due to the damaged nerve. All the feeling in the other numbed teeth has returned. One of the three feels 90% of the way back, and the other two are well over 50% of the way back. There's a very good chance that all feeling will return.
At the moment, the trial is scheduled for the start of October, which seems pretty quick to me, being only three months after the attack. I'm a little nervous about having to testify, but regardless, I'm happy that it'll be so soon.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
Sisyphus was an Environmentalist
I came out of L'Enfant Plaza under the overpass, and as I approached the street I saw three plastic bags, the smiley face with "Have a Nice Day" on it. Unused, just lying there, probably from a roll of them. I started to go past them, but I couldn't, so I doubled back and picked them up. Got to the street and as soon as I took a left, I saw two more bags, so I bent over and picked them up as well. Walked a little further and saw about two dozen of them against a construction fence, just cursed and walked by.
At day's end, I did pick up another bag that was still lying there, but most of the others were out of reach, on the other side of that construction fence.
At day's end, I did pick up another bag that was still lying there, but most of the others were out of reach, on the other side of that construction fence.
Saturday, August 09, 2008
Maine Vignette No. 4
A Milestone Reached
Brief naps after the wedding on Friday provide insufficient rest after Thursday night's drama, so we head to bed fairly early, especially knowing we want to hit the road early the next morning. Unfortunately, around 11pm, Emelia is back up complaining of a tummy ache, crying out "Poopy!" just as she did the night before. Her cries don't reach the level that they did the previous night, but all the same, it takes over two hours for her to start feeling better. A little after 1am, she asks for some milk, so I get up to prepare some for her. As the milk is warming, she gets up out of the bed where she's been lying next to Kathy, and starts playing in the kitchen. When the milk is ready, she drinks it all up, and seems quite content.
Then I tell her it's time for bed, and she starts screaming. She continues to cry when I put her back in her crib, and she even screams. As tired as I feel, I figure I might be able to sleep through the noise. She cries out, "Mommy!" several times, and gets no response. Then she cries out "Up Please!" but no one gets her. Then she cries, "Poopy!" several times, and Kathy gets up.
"Put her down!" I hiss. "Don't you see what she's doing?"
There's a pause, and Kathy puts her back down. Kathy wants to comfort her baby, and she can't be sure that she isn't genuinely hurt. I'm figuring it's manipulation pure and simple, but even if it isn't -- we can't stop the hurt, but sleep can. The screams return, but within 20 minutes she's sound asleep, and shortly after that we are too.
Brief naps after the wedding on Friday provide insufficient rest after Thursday night's drama, so we head to bed fairly early, especially knowing we want to hit the road early the next morning. Unfortunately, around 11pm, Emelia is back up complaining of a tummy ache, crying out "Poopy!" just as she did the night before. Her cries don't reach the level that they did the previous night, but all the same, it takes over two hours for her to start feeling better. A little after 1am, she asks for some milk, so I get up to prepare some for her. As the milk is warming, she gets up out of the bed where she's been lying next to Kathy, and starts playing in the kitchen. When the milk is ready, she drinks it all up, and seems quite content.
Then I tell her it's time for bed, and she starts screaming. She continues to cry when I put her back in her crib, and she even screams. As tired as I feel, I figure I might be able to sleep through the noise. She cries out, "Mommy!" several times, and gets no response. Then she cries out "Up Please!" but no one gets her. Then she cries, "Poopy!" several times, and Kathy gets up.
"Put her down!" I hiss. "Don't you see what she's doing?"
There's a pause, and Kathy puts her back down. Kathy wants to comfort her baby, and she can't be sure that she isn't genuinely hurt. I'm figuring it's manipulation pure and simple, but even if it isn't -- we can't stop the hurt, but sleep can. The screams return, but within 20 minutes she's sound asleep, and shortly after that we are too.
Friday, August 08, 2008
I am not a Vegetarian
Almost three months ago, Kathy and I decided to try becoming vegetarians, primarily for the reason that it's better for the environment. In the time since then, we haven't bought any meat for home consumption. We've still eaten some meat at home -- we weren't going to throw out the meat in the freezer or pantry, but the supply there is dwindling (and it's not like there was that much to begin with). We're learning as we go -- we've found a veggie burger that we both like, Kathy is experimenting with all sort of new grains (quinoa being the one she's used the most, but tonight she offered up a stew with amaranth, "forbidden rice," millet, and wheat berries in addition to corn, white rice, and quinoa), and we're both cooking some with tofu (Kathy more than me) .
Also generally speaking, we haven't ordered meat when eating out. Some of our favorite cuisines -- Thai, Pakistani/Indian, Vietnamese, and of course pizza -- provide ample vegetarian alternatives, so we've had no trouble on that end. We've had Turkish/Lebanese a couple of times, and found lots of vegetarian mezza. About the only time we've been eating meat other than finishing up our supply at home is when we've been traveling. Our trips to Hilton Head and Maine included meat consumption, as did our stints in Connecticut. In the case of the former, it would have been difficult to do so when we were in a house full of meat eaters and we were eating communally (similar when we were with Connecticut). In the case of Maine, there weren't many options available to us, particularly given that our kitchen was essentially unusable. Plus, when they're offering up Maine lobster at the wedding, it would have been hard to say no.
At this point, our approach is that we're not hard-core vegetarians, and we don't want to inconvenience others, and, to a lesser extent, ourselves. So although we don't consider ourselves vegetarians, we're eating a tiny fraction of the meat we used to.
Little steps.
Also generally speaking, we haven't ordered meat when eating out. Some of our favorite cuisines -- Thai, Pakistani/Indian, Vietnamese, and of course pizza -- provide ample vegetarian alternatives, so we've had no trouble on that end. We've had Turkish/Lebanese a couple of times, and found lots of vegetarian mezza. About the only time we've been eating meat other than finishing up our supply at home is when we've been traveling. Our trips to Hilton Head and Maine included meat consumption, as did our stints in Connecticut. In the case of the former, it would have been difficult to do so when we were in a house full of meat eaters and we were eating communally (similar when we were with Connecticut). In the case of Maine, there weren't many options available to us, particularly given that our kitchen was essentially unusable. Plus, when they're offering up Maine lobster at the wedding, it would have been hard to say no.
At this point, our approach is that we're not hard-core vegetarians, and we don't want to inconvenience others, and, to a lesser extent, ourselves. So although we don't consider ourselves vegetarians, we're eating a tiny fraction of the meat we used to.
Little steps.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Maine Vignette No. 3
Kilts on Parade
Tom ordered a kilt to wear for his wedding. When it arrived a couple of weeks before we drove to Maine, he and Anna dropped by with him wearing it, and Kathy thought I'd look good in one. So she immediately ordered one for me. Anna and Tom were being married by a Cecil, a friend of theirs, so they ordered him one. And Tom's best friend Troy had to get one.
When we got up there, Gene saw Troy wearing his when we went out on Sunday night and thought he should get one. Then he promptly forgot about it. Until Tuesday night. Wednesday he ordered a kilt, and they were able to overnight it from Seattle to the little coastal town in Maine where we were.
So the five of us wore kilts for the wedding.
Cecil, Troy, Tom, Gene, and Me
Tom ordered a kilt to wear for his wedding. When it arrived a couple of weeks before we drove to Maine, he and Anna dropped by with him wearing it, and Kathy thought I'd look good in one. So she immediately ordered one for me. Anna and Tom were being married by a Cecil, a friend of theirs, so they ordered him one. And Tom's best friend Troy had to get one.
When we got up there, Gene saw Troy wearing his when we went out on Sunday night and thought he should get one. Then he promptly forgot about it. Until Tuesday night. Wednesday he ordered a kilt, and they were able to overnight it from Seattle to the little coastal town in Maine where we were.
So the five of us wore kilts for the wedding.
Cecil, Troy, Tom, Gene, and Me
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Maine Vignette No. 2
The Sound and the Sulfury
Two picturesque cottages, very small, each with a bedroom/living room and a small kitchen, and that's about it. Across the street from the only sand beach in the area, beautiful view. Available for the week of the wedding, so we get them, taking one of the cottages for ourselves and leaving the other one for another couple up for the wedding. The fact that dogs are allowed lets us bring Nora and Junebug with us, something they would certainly enjoy.
The night before we head north, I work out the details of our arrival with the owner's son, at which point he informs me that the well water isn't drinkable, and that as a courtesy he's sticking a couple of gallons of bottled water in each refrigerator. It doesn't fully sink in what that means until we arrive. The word of the week is Spartan, as in, we have Spartan accommodations. The water reeks of sulfur, and the iron in it causes it to be brown sometimes. Kathy reluctantly showers in it, and despises that we have to wash Emelia's bottles in it. We don't cook with it, partly due to health fears, but equally because the tiny kitchen isn't meant for cooking. It allows for little more than heating frozen pizzas. Among other defects, the sink is very shallow, and leaks around its edges. The cottages are in a beautiful location, to be sure, and hanging out on the deck or by the fire pit is quite lovely. All the same, the interior makes for a trying week.
Word to the wise -- never rent a place that doesn't show its interior among the photos. And a request for anyone who rents out a house -- you really should disclose in your ad if your accommodations don't provide drinkable water.
Two picturesque cottages, very small, each with a bedroom/living room and a small kitchen, and that's about it. Across the street from the only sand beach in the area, beautiful view. Available for the week of the wedding, so we get them, taking one of the cottages for ourselves and leaving the other one for another couple up for the wedding. The fact that dogs are allowed lets us bring Nora and Junebug with us, something they would certainly enjoy.
The night before we head north, I work out the details of our arrival with the owner's son, at which point he informs me that the well water isn't drinkable, and that as a courtesy he's sticking a couple of gallons of bottled water in each refrigerator. It doesn't fully sink in what that means until we arrive. The word of the week is Spartan, as in, we have Spartan accommodations. The water reeks of sulfur, and the iron in it causes it to be brown sometimes. Kathy reluctantly showers in it, and despises that we have to wash Emelia's bottles in it. We don't cook with it, partly due to health fears, but equally because the tiny kitchen isn't meant for cooking. It allows for little more than heating frozen pizzas. Among other defects, the sink is very shallow, and leaks around its edges. The cottages are in a beautiful location, to be sure, and hanging out on the deck or by the fire pit is quite lovely. All the same, the interior makes for a trying week.
Word to the wise -- never rent a place that doesn't show its interior among the photos. And a request for anyone who rents out a house -- you really should disclose in your ad if your accommodations don't provide drinkable water.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Maine Vignette No. 1
A Long Night
Tom and Anna's wedding is Friday morning at 10:30am, and Anna has asked Kathy to come over around 9. Emelia woke up crying Thursday evening at 11pm, saying "Poopy" over and over again. Her stomach hurts, and there's nothing we can do for her except comfort her. Kathy does this for a few hours, but as time passes the intensity of Emelia's cries increases, to the point that as the waves of pain hit her, she's screaming "Poopy Poopy Poopy!" and writhing on the bed next to Kathy, grabbing her crotch in extreme distress. We have no medication for stomach aches, no house phone, no signal for our cell phones, and no hospital or emergency clinic within 30 minutes of us. At 2am, Kathy says we have to do something, so we get dressed and go out to the car, in the wind and moderately fierce rain, and drive several minutes until we get a cell signal. I pull over and call my father, the retired pediatrician, seeking his advice. He says to go to the emergency room, because if she's constipated, they'll be able to help. We drive into the nearest real town, searching for a hospital, not at all sure where one might be located. We go past the pharmacy and grocery store, where we hoped to find some sort of medication to provide relief, but they're both closed. Meanwhile, Emelia seems to be doing ok, her cries have evaporated and we consider simply driving back. Dad calls and says that if she's constipated, the problem will return unless we get it removed. So we follow the blue signs with the "H" until, on the far side of town, we find a hospital.
I'm struck by the contrast of my trip to the emergency room, not even four weeks earlier -- the emptiness of the facility, and the immediate response to our arrival. An intake receptionist gets our insurance info. As soon as she's done that, a nurse gets Emelia's vital signs and asks for a description. She then escorts us to a room, and five minutes later, a doctor arrives and examines Emelia. He feels her stomach and declares that Emelia has a lot of gas, and orders X-rays to confirm his diagnosis. Within minutes we head to radiology, which shortly thereafter confirms the doctor's diagnosis that Emelia has a lot of gas. The doctor sends us home with suppositories. Emelia falls asleep on the drive back, and she doesn't awake when we get back to our cottage -- thus, she doesn't even get her medicine. It's 5am, and we climb back in bed, determined to get a couple of hours of sleep before the day begins.
Tom and Anna's wedding is Friday morning at 10:30am, and Anna has asked Kathy to come over around 9. Emelia woke up crying Thursday evening at 11pm, saying "Poopy" over and over again. Her stomach hurts, and there's nothing we can do for her except comfort her. Kathy does this for a few hours, but as time passes the intensity of Emelia's cries increases, to the point that as the waves of pain hit her, she's screaming "Poopy Poopy Poopy!" and writhing on the bed next to Kathy, grabbing her crotch in extreme distress. We have no medication for stomach aches, no house phone, no signal for our cell phones, and no hospital or emergency clinic within 30 minutes of us. At 2am, Kathy says we have to do something, so we get dressed and go out to the car, in the wind and moderately fierce rain, and drive several minutes until we get a cell signal. I pull over and call my father, the retired pediatrician, seeking his advice. He says to go to the emergency room, because if she's constipated, they'll be able to help. We drive into the nearest real town, searching for a hospital, not at all sure where one might be located. We go past the pharmacy and grocery store, where we hoped to find some sort of medication to provide relief, but they're both closed. Meanwhile, Emelia seems to be doing ok, her cries have evaporated and we consider simply driving back. Dad calls and says that if she's constipated, the problem will return unless we get it removed. So we follow the blue signs with the "H" until, on the far side of town, we find a hospital.
I'm struck by the contrast of my trip to the emergency room, not even four weeks earlier -- the emptiness of the facility, and the immediate response to our arrival. An intake receptionist gets our insurance info. As soon as she's done that, a nurse gets Emelia's vital signs and asks for a description. She then escorts us to a room, and five minutes later, a doctor arrives and examines Emelia. He feels her stomach and declares that Emelia has a lot of gas, and orders X-rays to confirm his diagnosis. Within minutes we head to radiology, which shortly thereafter confirms the doctor's diagnosis that Emelia has a lot of gas. The doctor sends us home with suppositories. Emelia falls asleep on the drive back, and she doesn't awake when we get back to our cottage -- thus, she doesn't even get her medicine. It's 5am, and we climb back in bed, determined to get a couple of hours of sleep before the day begins.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
In the Wake of the FISA Rollover
Is it really any wonder that Congress is polling at its lowest levels ever, with Democrats rating it lower than Republicans despite both the House and Senate being in the control of the Democrats?
Sunday, July 13, 2008
A Long Overdue Experience
Kathy and I have been together for over ten years (married over nine), and never in that time had we gone camping together. About six years ago we even bought a tent, having the best of intentions. About three years ago, we made tentative plans to go camping with friends, but it didn't happen. Tom and Anna have asked us a few times to join them, and we never had. Finally this past weekend, we went camping with a group of beer-loving folk in the general area.
Initially we had planned to bring the dogs with us, but given all that we'd be bringing, we decided there really wasn't space for them in the car, so we reluctantly decided to leave them home (the fact that we're bringing them on a one-week vacation starting this upcoming weekend made it an easier decision to make).
We shared a site with our friends Margie and Chris, two veteran campers who drove up from around Raleigh to hang with us for the weekend. They tended to the fire, but otherwise I think we carried our weight at the site. We didn't need them to help set up our tent or anything, and in fact we pretty much took care of our stuff just fine. We didn't do anything too adventurous with the food, but hey -- it was our first time. At least we got a better sense of what would work and what wouldn't.
Emelia had a good time even though she was the only kid there. She enjoyed a nature show on owls (when the ranger asked what she was holding, before the ranger called on one of the kids with their hands up, Emelia called out, "Owl"), and we had to caution her not to go up to the multitude of deer at the campground. Many of the adults we were with were happy to engage Emelia in conversation, and she was delighted with all the attention. Our one hike with her was when we were leaving today -- we learned about a 1.6-mile hike that would take us to a great mountain view. Good thing we sought a short hike, because Emelia wasn't interested in walking any. Kathy carried Emelia on her back for about 2/3 of the way, and I carried her all but about 50 feet of the rest of the way. Getting Emelia to walk even that far was a rather arduous process, largely because she was overtired.
For the weekend, she slept way less than she normally does, and we spent too much time trying to get her to sleep. She finally went down around 11pm on Friday night, compared with her roughly 7:15 bedtime at home (tonight she was asleep before 7 given how tired she is). Between all the stimulation, the altogether new environment, and being asked to sleep in a tent for the first time, I suppose it's no surprise she had trouble. Saturday she fell asleep for her nap while being carried on Kathy's back, but even then it was only for about an hour (compared with 2+ at home). That night she got to sleep at around 9pm, after screaming herself beyond exhaustion. The people across from us (not in our group) said we reminded them of themselves twenty years earlier when their kids would do the same thing. They learned to let the kids stay up while camping, that they'd eventually exhaust themselves and in the meantime, the adults shouldn't ruin their time worrying about the kids getting enough sleep. I think it's advice we might follow next time.
And yes, I said next time -- both Kathy and I enjoyed ourselves enough that we'd like to go camping again, even regularly. I'm not sure we'll reach "regularly," but I feel confident that the next time will be sooner than ten years from now.
* * * * *
Before I end this post, I just wanted to comment on the obvious, that the birth of Emelia has made travel quite a bit more complicated. There are so many things that go into planning and prepping a trip with a small child that aren't an issue when the travelers are self-sufficient adults. Despite this change, my trip planning essentially hasn't changed a bit -- I take care of myself, and leave Kathy with having to take care of Emelia as well as herself. Part of this is due to the fact that Kathy is home with Emelia on Thursday and Friday, when most trip prep happens, but it's also because I'm lazy about this aspect of parenting. Kathy occasionally grumbles about this (justifiably), but generally does it graciously, and always does it splendidly. So I wanted to take this corner of this blogpost to publicly acknowledge all she does to make travel great. The fact that she's mostly a homebody who'd just as soon hang out at home for leisure, while I'm the one who would travel more if time and money allowed it, makes what she does all the more wonderful. This is just one more reason why I consider myself a very lucky man. Thank you Kathy.
Initially we had planned to bring the dogs with us, but given all that we'd be bringing, we decided there really wasn't space for them in the car, so we reluctantly decided to leave them home (the fact that we're bringing them on a one-week vacation starting this upcoming weekend made it an easier decision to make).
We shared a site with our friends Margie and Chris, two veteran campers who drove up from around Raleigh to hang with us for the weekend. They tended to the fire, but otherwise I think we carried our weight at the site. We didn't need them to help set up our tent or anything, and in fact we pretty much took care of our stuff just fine. We didn't do anything too adventurous with the food, but hey -- it was our first time. At least we got a better sense of what would work and what wouldn't.
Emelia had a good time even though she was the only kid there. She enjoyed a nature show on owls (when the ranger asked what she was holding, before the ranger called on one of the kids with their hands up, Emelia called out, "Owl"), and we had to caution her not to go up to the multitude of deer at the campground. Many of the adults we were with were happy to engage Emelia in conversation, and she was delighted with all the attention. Our one hike with her was when we were leaving today -- we learned about a 1.6-mile hike that would take us to a great mountain view. Good thing we sought a short hike, because Emelia wasn't interested in walking any. Kathy carried Emelia on her back for about 2/3 of the way, and I carried her all but about 50 feet of the rest of the way. Getting Emelia to walk even that far was a rather arduous process, largely because she was overtired.
For the weekend, she slept way less than she normally does, and we spent too much time trying to get her to sleep. She finally went down around 11pm on Friday night, compared with her roughly 7:15 bedtime at home (tonight she was asleep before 7 given how tired she is). Between all the stimulation, the altogether new environment, and being asked to sleep in a tent for the first time, I suppose it's no surprise she had trouble. Saturday she fell asleep for her nap while being carried on Kathy's back, but even then it was only for about an hour (compared with 2+ at home). That night she got to sleep at around 9pm, after screaming herself beyond exhaustion. The people across from us (not in our group) said we reminded them of themselves twenty years earlier when their kids would do the same thing. They learned to let the kids stay up while camping, that they'd eventually exhaust themselves and in the meantime, the adults shouldn't ruin their time worrying about the kids getting enough sleep. I think it's advice we might follow next time.
And yes, I said next time -- both Kathy and I enjoyed ourselves enough that we'd like to go camping again, even regularly. I'm not sure we'll reach "regularly," but I feel confident that the next time will be sooner than ten years from now.
* * * * *
Before I end this post, I just wanted to comment on the obvious, that the birth of Emelia has made travel quite a bit more complicated. There are so many things that go into planning and prepping a trip with a small child that aren't an issue when the travelers are self-sufficient adults. Despite this change, my trip planning essentially hasn't changed a bit -- I take care of myself, and leave Kathy with having to take care of Emelia as well as herself. Part of this is due to the fact that Kathy is home with Emelia on Thursday and Friday, when most trip prep happens, but it's also because I'm lazy about this aspect of parenting. Kathy occasionally grumbles about this (justifiably), but generally does it graciously, and always does it splendidly. So I wanted to take this corner of this blogpost to publicly acknowledge all she does to make travel great. The fact that she's mostly a homebody who'd just as soon hang out at home for leisure, while I'm the one who would travel more if time and money allowed it, makes what she does all the more wonderful. This is just one more reason why I consider myself a very lucky man. Thank you Kathy.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Confronting Fear
Gonna stand my ground, won't be turned around
and I'll keep this world from draggin' me down
gonna stand my ground and I won't back down
-- Tom Petty, "I Won't Back Down"
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
-- Chumbawamba, "Tub Thumping"
I went out to a beer tasting last night, back in Takoma Park. I didn't drive, because I haven't gotten my replacement license yet since the last one was stolen. So I took the Metro, which meant I walked home alone across Capitol Hill at 11:30 at night. It was a walk I'd taken many times before, but it has at least a small element of risk, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't anxious covering that ground at night for the first time post-mugging. Even as I set out at the start of the evening, I kept thinking about the late-night walk that would be there for me at the end. I felt that the walk was necessary, to put myself back into what I consider a normal part of life -- life's too short to live in fear.
Two songs kept running through my head as I took the 20-minute walk, along with memories of my pounding heart in that pitch dark garden in Prague.
and I'll keep this world from draggin' me down
gonna stand my ground and I won't back down
-- Tom Petty, "I Won't Back Down"
I get knocked down
But I get up again
You're never going to keep me down
-- Chumbawamba, "Tub Thumping"
I went out to a beer tasting last night, back in Takoma Park. I didn't drive, because I haven't gotten my replacement license yet since the last one was stolen. So I took the Metro, which meant I walked home alone across Capitol Hill at 11:30 at night. It was a walk I'd taken many times before, but it has at least a small element of risk, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't anxious covering that ground at night for the first time post-mugging. Even as I set out at the start of the evening, I kept thinking about the late-night walk that would be there for me at the end. I felt that the walk was necessary, to put myself back into what I consider a normal part of life -- life's too short to live in fear.
Two songs kept running through my head as I took the 20-minute walk, along with memories of my pounding heart in that pitch dark garden in Prague.
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