For its entire history it was "the Mall," known worldwide. Now, thanks to Home Depot, Macy's and Victoria's Secret, the front yard of the Nation's Capital, home to icons of democracy and freedom recognized from Timbuktu to Kalamazoo, has to be distinguished as "the National Mall."
Well, the long and short of it is that I can't tell you anything because I signed a document agreeing to the PIC's rules, including, if you can believe this, no blogging!!!!
So I am on thin ice already. On Jan. 20, I am hoping for no ice at all, because I am expected to be in full volunteer mode -- with red watchcap and layers of clothing (but no denim or sweatpants) at 5 a.m.
I am thrilled, however, (and not just cuz of the cool red hat but) because I am lucky enough to live here, and it would be a sin not to take part in those things that I can. I saw the parade for John Glenn after he orbited the earth, I saw the JFK funeral cortege from White House to Capitol and now this.
Call me square, but I would stand out on the Mall at 5 a.m. on a January day much sooner than I would trudge to the Lincoln Memorial on Saturday at 2 p.m. to hear Bono, Bruce Springsteen and Stevie Wonder.
My music is internal, and, of course, involves a different drum.