Isnt There Someone You Could Have Called?

Caroline Kennedy, 3, kissing her baby brother John F. Kennedy Jr. in 1961 in Palm Beach, Florida

Copyright © Richard Avedon. All rights reserved.

As we are driving down, quasi hungover to the great capital of our nation, I say to my husband "...but really, I do want to see it. I mean, after all, when else are we going to be in Washington DC."

We had had this discussion for about 15 minutes. It was one of those where I got aggravated early in because I thought the decision was made, he agreed then in the actual moment started prevaricating. And being a dick about it.

"I didn't think you were THAT interested," he said.
"I am. I really am." I said.
"I thought you had just seen it in the magazine." he qualified.
"I did. I mean, yes, I DID see it in the magazine because otherwise I wouldn't have known but it's only an hour away, and what's an hour, really? What else are we doing?"

I must have apologized 15 times as we wended our way through the equivelent of Rt One's Automile. But longer. And more congested.

Stop, go. Stop, go. Stop, Stop now go ...QUICK!

We parked a thousand miles away. We saw a meter, we are both used to NY and Boston. So we grabbed it. We parked. It was broken.
"Let's just move" he said as I was already on the phone getting the pass code from the state department that deals with broken meters. I mean, for them to have the number printed ON the meter with instructions to call? Well, it seems like they expect you to call it.

It's hotter then we expected in Washington. Likely we should have worn shorts, but really, my legs are chubby and I never wear shorts so even knowing the weather, I'd have worn jeans. But a cooler top.
We walked. Careful of each others feelings.

"This was a good idea." he squeezed my hand. "Im sorry I was such a jerk about it."
"Oh NO," I said. "It was my fault. I didn't expect there to be so much traffic. I thought we were just going to be on the outskirts. I didn't realize where it was..."
"No no" he said. "Its fine. Look, you can see the monument."
"Oooooh. Cool. Phallic. Looks like Bunker Hill." I said. Unimpressed. Washington Monument. Check.
I regaled him with the story of the four of us, almost 18 years ago, sitting in
front of the Capitol building, thinking it was the white house, looking for Barbara Bush's dog in the windows. "It wasn't until WELL after we got home ad we showed the pictures to Walt that we understood that it wasn't the white house." I finished. He laughed obligingly. We kept walking.

Over 8 blocks I think. City blocks.
I asked him the day before if he knew where it was. Then that morning if he had looked it up. If it was open.

As we rounded the final corner, crossing in front of an embassy, tour buses, the monument walkway, the Daughter of The Revolution house - we stopped in front of the gallery.

CLOSED.
Monday and Tuesday.

Ask me honestly. Honestly,
And I'll answer you honestly,
if I cried.

"Did you cry?"

For about 25 seconds my heart was in my throat and I swallowed. Hard.
Honestly.
Because Doug almost cried.
Because he really DIDN'T call. Although he led me to believe that he had.

And that's the story, my friends, of how I missed the Richard Avedon exhibit in Washington DC by one day.

We should have driven back Wednesday. But I missed Ellie, and I wanted to come home. and now that I'm home? I wish I had just waited one day.
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