“Aside from the murders, DC has one of the lowest crime rates in the country.” -Marion “Mayor For Life” Barry
I don’t know that I have a place I’d call “home.” I’ll use the work “home” to describe my apartment, of course. Or I will say I’m going home when I go visit my parents.
I was born in one small Pennsylvania town, moved to another small Pennsylvania town when I was young, then moved to the Eastern Shore of Maryland when I was in high school, then left there for college in the DC area. My dad remarried and left Maryland and moved to Delaware. I’ve been back to the town I went to high school in maybe a handful of times since graduation and I’ve been back to the town where I spent most of my youth even less than that.
To recap, ages 1 – 3 in one town, ages 3 – 14 in another, ages 14 – 18 in yet another, and from 18 on inside the Beltway. I’ve almost lived here as long as I’ve lived in any other place.
I can’t really explain why I love DC. Something about this place has gotten under my skin. I hate their football team (E-A-G-L-E-S EAGLES!), the traffic here is one of Dante’s circles of hell, the lack of a vote in Congress, and a whole host of other complaints.
Maybe what draws me in is all the political action, the running into Harry Reid when you’re out to dinner. Maybe it’s the people. Or being at the power center of the world. Perhaps it’s simply the familiarity, I’m used to this city, so I love it.
This is my city: