Food for Thought
The Center of the Universe
Yesterday was an interesting day. My oldest son came to town for an interview and we had lunch together. He’s staying with a friend, so it was nice to spend a couple of hours with him and to hear the enthusiasm in his voice about a possible paid internship with a government agency that would be perfect for him in his quest for a happy future.
After lunch as we said our goodbyes and I drove him to his friend’s house for the rest of the weekend, I decided I was going to go into DC to pay my respects as Ted Kennedy’s motorcade made it’s way from the Capital to Arlington Cemetery. I don’t know why I suddenly decided that I needed to go see this short procession of vehicles make their way through the city, but it’s no real surprise. I wanted to be a part of this event that was at “The Center of the Universe” for the day.
I took mass transit in and when I arrived I made my way to the intersection of 12th and Constitution for what I knew would be a brief drive-by. Ironically, without realizing it, I’d parked myself next to the cameras and team from Fox News and watched as they looked for someone to agree to do a quick “man on the street” interview.
I had to pick up my phone and tap out a Tweet when I heard the man in the Red Sox tee shirt say to the reporter, “I’m a liberal,” as though the decision to choose him was a terrible mistake. And although it made sense to pick the guy in the Red Sox shirt, his political views might be inappropriate for a Fox spot, but the on air talent made a comment about loving the Red Sox and brushed off any thoughts of how this guy had the potential to be a poor choice just like that.
I sat for about an hour while waiting for the caravan to make its’ way from the Capital past the intersection I was standing on and watched as the hearse and limos carrying family members made their way past us.
The family looked genuinely happy to see so many people out on the streets. They had their windows open and were smiling and waving as they slowly passed by. I saw Vicky Kennedy, Robert Kennedy and Teddy’s sister, Jean Kennedy Smith and the grandchildren and others, but I failed to get good photos. Although I was standing right there on the edge of the street, when the police came by to push us back to the side walk, people rushed out and stood in front of me. My great camera shots up and down the avenue were destroyed.
I suppose what was most important was observing and not documenting in pictures, so I saw what I went to see and that was that. It was another one of those moments to file in the memory bank. One of those spontaneous adventures where the news outlets make you think that very event is the Center of the Universe — as though there is nothing else happening on our planet that day. And like others I’ve experienced, I can say I didn’t miss out this time.
In January I was disappointed that surgery kept me from being able to attend the events during President Obama and our country’s big day and I think when I heard about yesterday’s funeral procession I thought — “I’m not going to miss this one!” I like attending one of a kind events — historic, “center of the universe” events.
I remember almost as though it was just last year the day the Iran hostages came home after 444 days of capture from 1979 – 1981 and that they were going to be welcomed home with a bus ride down Pennsylvania Avenue, past the white House when they came back to the US. I was a young 20 year old working in Georgetown and I felt an overwhelming need to get to the White House to see the hostages as they came by in their busses.
Getting out of work was no easy feat. I was inexperienced in the corporate world and nothing more than a secretary (yes really, that’s what we were called in the late 1970’s) and wasn’t sure how I’d manage to slip out and down to the White House to bear witness to this event, but I knew I had to do it.
I approached the attorneys I worked for and told them I had this desire to see the hostages coming home and much to my surprise, they easily agreed to let me take a long lunch.
I quickly picked up my purse and headed to the Metro so that I wouldn’t miss any of it. It was winter and it was cold, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to be there. It was quick. The busses came down the street and we waved and welcomed the hostages home after their 444 day nightmare. It just felt good to be one of those that took the time to get there.
But just before that event, I strolled down to the National Mall from our apartment on Capitol Hill to witness President Reagan’s inauguration. I didn’t vote for him, but I wanted to be a part of that history. I lived just a few blocks from that day’s “Center of the Universe” event where it was all happening. Why wouldn’t I attend? As he drove by and waved, I waved back.
And there were other events. I remember attending a rally for Walter Mondale in the garment district when I worked in Manhattan. I think my father and sister and I all attended. I seem to recall it being on 7th Avenue, the heart of the garment district and a short walk from our offices. There was a platform set up and we watched as Mondale told us what he would do if he were elected, which of course, was not to happen. But I still have the sweatshirt! 
There was the Earth Day celebration in DC in the late 70’s, the N.O.W. rally in the late 80’s and the festivities in DC for the end of Desert Storm that my boys and I attended in what must have been 1991.
Things didn’t change when I moved overseas. I lived in the Philippines when President Estrada was deposed and the build up to that event was long. We knew it was coming, but not how it would happen. We’d been hoping for a peaceful coup another “People Power,” and it happened that way, but building up to the transition of power was a series of peaceful rallies in Manila that we were advised to avoid. So we watched on TV as day after day people would gather to sing and chant and cry out for change. While my colleague and I were hosting a leadership summit in a 4 star hotel in Manila with our team of 18 managers, the coup was inevitable. Suddenly, streets were closed and our security consultants told us we would have to stay at the hotel another night. Not a tragedy. The Shangri-La, Makati was a slice of paradise in a city teaming with people. The next morning, as soon as possible we piled into our vehicles and high-tailed it back to Clark. It wasn’t that we were so afraid of something untoward happening to us, but we were responsible for others and we needed to get them home where we knew they would be safe and sound and far from the hub-bub in the city. I would love to have been able to stick around and watch things unfold, but that would have been terribly irresponsible.
Later, I had a couple of “Center of the Universe” experiences while living in India. Strikes were not unusual, but transportation strikes were all too frequent during my year there. Like this strike in January, 2008, transportation was disrupted and getting employees to and from the office was impossible, not to mention, potentially dangerous. Our only option was to have cots and food brought in and to keep the employees overnight — that included all of us. But you couldn’t just ask employees to stay, even if for their own safety. Many were young women and their parents did not take kindly to their daughters staying in the office with mixed company. We had to make arrangements and ensure we communicated properly to calm nerves and let people know we were taking care of all details and there would be separate rooms for male and female employees.
Oh how fun, we were going to have a sleep over! And we did, but I didn’t bother to sleep and I’m very happy about that since we found that the cots were infested with lice and fleas. Oh joy! But again, it would have been irresponsible to ask my driver to take me back into the city which in traffic was a 60 – 90 minute journey and during a strike could be much longer and very dangerous. Protestors did not take kindly to vehicles plying the roads, so again, it would have been terribly irresponsible on my part to “escape” the “Center of the Universe” that day and expect the 1600 people I was responsible for to stay.
Speaking of irresponsibility … the Summit of the Americas was planned in Mar del Plata, Argentina when I was living in Buenos Aires. I received a call from AOL’s Chief of Security (AOL was my employer) asking me if I could please make my way home for the weekend of the summit, until everything blew over. See, President Bush was not well liked there. I’d been seeing anti Bush posters appear around town and cab drivers loved to talk about their dislike for our president when they realized I was a Norte Americana. I knew there was the potential for problems when a Blockbuster and a couple of CitiBank branches were targeted with small explosive devices and while it seemed a bit extreme to spend the money to fly me back to the US for a last minute trip for a couple of days, it looked like it was probably prudent to send me home. I didn’t feel like making the overnight trip home and back in a weekend, so I was given the option of going to Chile instead. A great option. I’d been wanting to get Chile for months! What a great getaway and I wouldn’t have to pay for it. But then as I was attempting to make reservations, I learned that the international airport was closed and sealed in anticipation of trouble as the Prez was heading back to the US so getting out of the country was just not possible.
My new friend from Security was concerned and made me promise that I would not go to work for 4 days — Thursday through Sunday. Oh my, I was to be held hostage in my apartment for FOUR DAYS because W’s presence in Argentina was possibly going to cause a problem? Alright, I wasn’t happy with the man to begin with, but now his presence in the country was causing this disruption in my life and I was feeling rather isolated.
Well, I could not bear to be alone and cooped up in my apartment for so long so I went to work on Thursday. I mean, what could happen. Bush was still 250 miles south in Mar del Plata. I went to work and all was fine. It was just like any other day. Chavez made an endless speech with Diego Maradona in attendance, looking like he wished he could be on the futbol field, or anywhere but there for much of it and all was quiet in Buenos Aires.
I decided to heed the warnings on Friday — at least for part of Friday. There were reports of possible hostilities in the city and major protests so I thought it best to stay home. But when I watched the news and saw events unfolding in the city I began to get antsy and I had that feeling … that, OH NO! WHAT MIGHT I BE MISSING IF I DON’T GET DOWNTOWN to that day’s “Center of the Universe” events. I could only understand about every 5th word of the news I was watching on TV so I didn’t really know what was going on, other than seeing people with placards marching down the streets. I could hear drums banging and noise on the streets 10 stories below my apartment and I felt like I was missing something.
When I chatted with my dad online he said to me, “Frannie, make yourself a sign and get out there and protest!” That was all I needed to hear. Someone I respected and trusted told me it was ok to head out into the “Center of the Universe.” I didn’t have any sign-making equipment, but I did have my camera and my legs so I washed up, put some money and identification in my purse and headed out to the street.
Was I ever disappointed! I’d missed the rallies near my house and I didn’t know where they’d headed so I made my way to 9 de Julio and walked to the office. In a relaxed atmosphere I worked and when it became dark I decided it was time to head home, but I thought it was probably best not to walk, so I headed downstairs to hail a cab. That just wasn’t possible. Where usually there were cabs as far as the eye could see, there were none. Nada. Nunca. Zip. Zilch. Not a black & yellow car in sight. I headed back inside and up to the office and asked someone to please call a cab for me.
But that wasn’t possible. WHAT?! I was now being held hostage at the office. It was dinner time and there were no vending machines, nothing to eat unless I headed out to the street and apparently, from what we could tell from the TV’s we had mounted above the call center floor, there was a problem in the city. Retail establishments and banks were being hit by protestors and some small explosive devices and fires were becoming problematic.

Cab companies didn’t want to be plying the roads and were reporting very long wait times. So I hunkered down and waited until things stopped sizzling and a cab would agree to come pick me up.
All the while I was feeling embarrassed and rather foolish for thinking I knew better than the trained professional that made me promise him I would not go to work for a few days. Why did I think I knew better?
If someone called me today and told me not to go to work for 4 days I’d be dancing a jig with one hand tied behind my back!
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