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CLOSE TO HOME JAMES P. CLARK WASHINGTON THE DISTRICT On a jury, but hardly a peer
Last month, I stepped off a Red Line train at Judiciary Square, reported for jury duty in D.C. Superior Court and was transported to a part of the District that I had never encountered before. I discovered the Washington where “zips” refer to single-serving bags of heroin sold to drug dealers in 10-packs of 11, so the dealer can keep one for himself as a bonus. I learned about stashes (where dealers hide drugs from police or would-be thieves). And I learned the street price of heroin ($8 to $10 per zip). I will keep the details of my case vague enough to blur the
identity of the defendant, but such details don’t really matter: My experience taught me that drug-related crimes are all too prevalent on our streets and in our courtrooms. In my courtroom, a very sad, self-described drug user was on trial for possession of heroin with intent to distribute. The law says that every person is entitled to a trial by a jury of peers, but I doubt this defendant had any peers on our jury. How could any of us understand his plight? The defendant was homeless at the time of the crime; soon
after his arrest, he found a room to rent for $450 per month. That’s approximately what I pay in monthly condo fees. During his testimony, this grown man spoke to us with what sounded like third-grade language skills. To the best of my knowledge, I have never met anyone who uses heroin. I don’t know what it feels like to sleep in a shelter, or worse. And I have certainly never felt such despair that I turned to heroin to ease my pain. Our jury was mixed in age, race and gender. But we hardly added up to a jury of the defendant’s peers. After hearing the evidence and conducting a truly thoughtful deliberation, we jurors concluded that the defendant was guilty of possession with intent to distribute. After the trial, we learned of additional damning evidence that had been withheld as a result of pre-trial hearings. We also learned that our verdict usually carries a sentence ranging from probation to two years’ incarceration. I left the courthouse with one question: What is the point? What is the point of the D.C. government putting so much time and effort toward trying a man for a crime for which he might receive only probation? And if he does go to jail, what is the point of that? This defendant has no job skills and a minimal education, and he exhibited no interest in stopping his use of various narcotics. What is the best-case scenario for his future? As these questions washed over me, I stepped back onto
my Red Line train. As I moved farther and farther from the defendant, the vast ocean between our two worlds began to reform. I returned to Ward 3, where my neighborhood’s greatest problems involve the construction of a local supermarket and a dog park. I wonder what I can do — or should do — to help this other Washington. The people of the District decided to take one more teaspoon of sand off our city’s own narcotics beach, and they asked me to help hold the spoon. Cortney Weinbaum,Washington
Local Blog Network
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Some of the region’s best bloggers share work on the All Opinions Are Local blog. Below, one of last week’s posts.
Bike-sharing is going to be awesome Tangible evidence of the region’s new bike-sharing system
has started to appear on the streets of the District and Arlington in anticipation of the opening of service on Monday, Sept. 20. Capital Bikeshare promises to turn cycling into mass
transit for people who live or work near one of its 1,100 or so bicycles. The idea is that registered users can rent a bike from any of 110 stations located around town, ride it to any other station, dismount and leave the bike. You’ll be able to go just about anywhere in town using the system, and you won’t have to worry about finding a secure place to lock your bike all day. The concept has worked fabulously in cities all over Europe, and with large systems in Montreal, Denver and Minneapolis, it is starting to catch on in North America as well. I plan on using the station near my home in Ward 2 to bike
to the Farragut West Metro station every day as part of my commute. It will make my commute faster, more reliable, healthier and less expensive. I could not be looking forward to it more. You can learn more about bike-sharing and sign up for a membership at
CapitalBikeshare.com. Dan Malouff,
Beyonddc.com
tion for the Washington Monu- ment Grounds, and he will say: “I want myidea to be part of history!” The purpose of this competition is to encourage Americans to de- velop innovative and creative ideas for making the monument grounds more welcoming, educa- tional and effectively used by the public. It is an appeal to designers and thinkers of all ages. It’s an intriguing space, to say the least. The Washington Monu- ment grounds are huge — equiv- alent to more than 28 football fields. Some believe that the grounds remain a big empty can- vas filled with design potential, while others feel that the simplic- ity of the monument on the great green expanse is perfect as it is. I have organized many design
A
competitions, including the In- terschool Design Competition held annually for more than a decade at the National Building Museum. What I enjoy most about them is the way they teach and allow people to share diverse viewpoints. This competition is designed to do that and more, spurring interest in American his- tory, art, planning, landscape ar- chitecture and more. It will join the monument’s legacy to its fu- ture, historical context and con- temporary thinking. On this page appear ideas that others have developed for this site during our nation’s history. Each reflects the values and aspirations of Americans at a particular time. The National Ideas Competition for the Washington Monument
One monumental design opportunity
Local Opinions, a place for commentary about where we live, is looking for submissions of 300 to 500 words on timely local topics. Submissions must include name, e-mail address, street address and phone number, and they will be edited for brevity and clarity. To submit your article, please go to
washingtonpost.com/localopinions.
NEXT WEEK’S TOPIC What are your thoughts on the Sept. 14 primary results?
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 2010
PHOTO AT TOP COURTESY OF THE SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION; OTHER IMAGES COURTESY OF THE STEERING COMMITTEE FOR THE NATIONAL IDEAS COMPETITION FOR THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT GROUNDS
sk my teenage son why he is hounding me to allow him to participate in the National Ideas Competi-
1902
Clockwise from top: The Washington Monument grounds now; an artist’s rendering of the 1901-02 McMillan Plan vision for the monument grounds; an aerial image with superimposed boxes at left and right denoting locations for a restored Sylvan Theater and the planned Smithsonian National Museum of African American History; and an 1852 image of the Andrew Jackson Downing-Robert Mills plan.
Grounds gives us the chance to ask what current values and aspi- rations our generation would see expressed on this site. Have a look, and then reimag- ine the grounds for yourself. Any- one can do this. Register by Oct. 31 at
wamocompetition.com and make your submission by mid-
1852
December. The first stage simply requires you to submit two 8½- by-11-inch pages of writing and/or graphics explaining your idea. The competition is sponsored by universities, schools, individu- als and design associations. It will be judged by an elite jury consist- ing of a futurist, an urban design-
er, an artist, a writer, a landscape architect and historians. Participate, learn and be part of
history!
The writer is chairman of the steering committee for the National Ideas Competition for the Washington Monument Grounds.
2010
JANICE LYNCH SCHUSTER RIVA, MD. Raising our glasses to the return of school
My mother’s best parenting ad- vice came the summer I be- moaned my plight as a mother of six: the endless driving back and forth to the mall, to one camp or another, to friends’ houses, to the pool. I was spending entire days on the road, and, in the wrong way, summer really did seem eter- nal (and infernal): the sunblock, the bathing suits and the mildew- ing towels strewn like flags the length of the deck. The children’s constant boredom and complain- ing. The heat. The whining, mine and theirs. “I can’t wait till school starts,” I
told my mother. “I am going to cheer when the bus pulls away.” “When you were little, we’d
have a party on the first day of school.” I must have rolled my eyes, be-
cause she quickly added, “Not for the kids! To celebrate that you all were finally gone. When the bus left, we celebrated that your sum- mer was over!” Thirty-five years ago, my moth- er and her friends partied with coffee and cake. But that was be- fore “Sex and the City” and People magazine made ordinary women cosmopolitan. One night, I half- joked to a friend that I was throw- ing a back-to-school party: “Mi- mosas for Mommies.” (“Bloody Marys for Mommies” or “High- balls for Housewives” sounded too sober for what I had in mind.) I was kidding. My friend wasn’t. “What a great idea!” she said.
“When will you have it? Where? I’ll bring something chocolate-y. Real chocolate. Dark chocolate. The twins’ bus comes at 8:45. I can
get to your house by 9.” I began inviting other friends. Some hesitated, as if only a bad mother could celebrate the depar- ture of her children. But they soon succumbed. We agreed to meet af- ter the buses pulled away on the first day of school, before the day’s to-do list could take hold of us. (My small circle included no stay- at-home dads, or they’d have been invited too.) A few working moth- ers took the morning off. I would provide the mimosas — including orange juice with and without pulp — if the others would bring something sweet/fattening/choco- late. That first year, the party began
just after Bus 82 left Granville Road bound for Davidsonville El- ementary. By Year Five we were starting at a more leisurely 11.
Some years the gathering has been harder to convene than others. There have been bittersweet mo- ments; despite the thrill I felt at seeing all five teenagers race down the driveway at 6:30 a.m., I had some trepidation when my young- est, now 7, made his way off to kin- dergarten. In fact, I was so upset over that transition that I told my friends I couldn’t have the party that year. Someone offered to host it for me. Eventually, I pressed on. Our gatherings have come to mark such transitions: Children grew up, left for college, became adults. We crossed the thresholds into middle school and high school. One friend’s divorce came just as her daughter was to start her senior year; another moved her child from an exclusive private school to a public middle school.
Those with temporarily empty homes wondered what to do with all that time. Drinking mimosas together reminded us that transi- tions, no matter how difficult, are easier when shared with friends. The first year my horrified chil- dren came home to all the food and said, “You really had a party because we went back to school?” They’ve learned to skip the whin- ing and eat the leftovers. Some years, the party has lasted until the school bus returns. Each year, as the kids bumped
up a grade, I waited for my life to become less hectic. The year five of them were in elementary school, I could hardly breathe for having so many little people with so many needs. Papers to be signed, parties to attend, school plays, soccer, soc- cer, soccer. I couldn’t wait until
they were teenagers, able to feed, clothe and entertain themselves. Then they became teenagers, able to engage in all manner of outra- geous and inappropriate behavior over which my control seemed in- creasingly limited. I thought the time they torched a pineapple in the driveway would mark an end to their juvenile behavior, but it proved to be just the start. The kids have moved up from kindergarten to sixth grade to high school, from sweetness and light to surly and lethargic, from grade school to college with hardly a mo- ment in between. The kids move on, and I’ve learned, along with my friends, to move with them. And for me, the morning of the
first day of school, moving on means pouring champagne and orange juice.
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