Drumline
Sometimes working in D.C. – on Pennsylvania Avenue, no less – is cool. Right now, the tap-tap of my keys mixes with the roll of drums as various school bands march their way to Freedom Plaza (a few blocks down the street from my office), in celebration of Emancipation Day (Lincoln freed slaves in DC on April 16, 1862 – several months before the Emancipation Proclamation).
Looking through my office window, I see the dome of the Capitol and below, as Pennsylvania Ave. stretches towards the marble, the pavement is shattered by the glittering brass of syncopation and symphony, alternating styles marching in waving lines. Drumbeats and horns, footsteps and shouts. The noise of memory.
ABC 7 News – D.C. Streets Closed for Emancipation Day Parade
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I get the same feeling a couple times a year, working right next to MCAS Miramar in San Diego, home of several wings of the Marine Corps Air Unit, as well as an annual Air Show.
Something awesome about having to hold up an outdoor company meeting (the only place we all fit) because 5 Chinook heavies are flying about half a mile overhead.
There is something about working on or next to a large military installation. For summers during college, I was a greenskeeper for a local public golf course that happened to be right next to a large Air Force base.
Every day, I watched F-15 Eagles and F-117 Nighthawks fly over over day, always amused when some hack golfer angrily shook their fist to blame the overhead noise for their terrible shot.
I have to say, I prefer the noise of marching bands (and my cool office) to the jet noise (and 100+ degree summers).