So this week I reached into the giant stack of old schoolwork and other papers that my parents sent me several years ago. This time I pulled out a contribution to that great American literary genre, the epistolary road trip memoir:
When I was a kid we took regular trips to nearby attractions, “nearby” meaning “The Northeast and Atlantic Seaboard”. One of our favorite destinations was Washington, D.C., home of (at the time) very clean subways, some parks, the Smithsonian, and an unusual concentration of memorial sites. Oh also there are a lot of lobbyists there. But when I wrote this letter to my grandmother, I had bigger things on my mind than stuff like that.