From Ballantine to the Beltway

I'm waging a war with Washington. I grew up under the cloud of smog produced by the steel mills in Northwest Indiana. My lungs conformed to the industrial aura, and I grew to love the local ghost stories, back roads and blizzards. I could navigate Chicago without a map by the age of 12 and came to appreciate Carl Sandburg's Chicago poetry. \nBloomington made perfect sense, a city enchanted by the millions of surrounding trees and the flood of ideas and musical notes that drift from its halls.\n My hometown and college town are places I can easily wrap my mind around, but Washington eludes me. \nSo now I'm battling every pre-conceived notion I had of D.C., trying to define this territory that will be my home for the next four months. Before I arrived here for a semester, an image of the city was burned in my mind by a photo I saw in a journalism class. \nIt is a photo of a little girl. A glance reveals poverty, a rough neighborhood and her lifeless gaze of defeat. Towering in the background is the dome of the United States Capitol, unnaturally white and proud. \nWhen I saw the photo, I had no idea that in a year I'd be spending the semester working in the shadow of the same building as a participant in the School of Public and Environmental Affairs' Washington Leadership Program.\nThe photo shows a stark contrast in this city that dances a tango of power and poverty. But it was black and white, and what I've seen so far is a Technicolor world constructed for tourists.\nI've been exploring the city, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, for a week now, camera in one hand, map in the other. The ideals and images of the founding fathers are larger than life, competing for attention from one intersection to the next. Each building rivals every other in Athenian grandeur, trumping the next by the size of its columns.\nThe city is certainly impressive, extravagant and mysterious. I was fascinated to learn D.C. is deeper than it is tall -- few buildings exceed the height of the Capitol, and 25-30 floors of basement lay beneath major federal buildings.\nI was naively disappointed to learn that the speeches we see on C-SPAN -- complete with sweeping gestures and dramatic facial expressions -- are often given to an empty room. The speeches are made for record, but the real business takes place in meetings throughout the city.\nNow the streets are lined with bleachers, the Capitol is surrounded by a sea of empty folding chairs and a fleet of sealed-off Port-A-Potties. Workmen have been hammering away at an imperial grandstand that will seat the president-elect with his nearest and dearest as he watches the inaugural parade.\nThe pomp will mark the end of a profoundly disappointing administration -- so full of hope and promise but so mired by controversy. The new administration will be ushered in by a crowd who might as well be asked "peaceful, protesting or first available?" upon arrival. \nAs I integrate into the flow of the city, commuting to my internship at the National Governors' Association, I hope to gain a better understanding of the people, power structures and politics. My mission in this column is to transport you from Ballantine to the Beltway, revealing more than the "aw, shucks" grin of president-elect George W. Bush and sweeping camera shots of the mall. \nI'm hoping to sort through the shades of gray and form my own image of this city. It will require my full attention at all of the inaugural events, attending a governors' conference in February, and watching a few congressional hearings. Not to mention examining D.C. night life and the conversation opportunities at after-work happy hour. \nLooks like this is a war I'm willing to wage after all.