Chrysostom

We all knew, from the day he burst on the scene, that Barack Obama is a great talker. And great talk can sometimes accomplish a lot. But there’s a reason why we talk about “walking the walk.” And, for better or worse (mostly worse), George Bush appears to be the better walker. (Maybe Obama could ask to borrow Bush’s middle name.)

Case in point: the Armenian genocide. (We’ll get to more “topical” issues involving Obama’s fine talk and wobbly walk in a subsequent post.) We can imagine why Obama merely alluded elliptically to the genocide while speaking to the Turkish parliament recently, and sidestepped a direct question at a photo op by saying his “views are on the record.” Maybe he thought it impolite to restate them in those venues. True, it would have given a tiny bit of encouragement to brave Turks who risk jail and worse for talking openly about it, but as the leader of a country with deep and twisty entanglements of mutual self-interest vis-à-vis Turkey, it was prudently ingratiating perhaps to keep mum about it while on Turkish soil.

On April 24, 2009, back in the USA, Obama chose to commemorate “one of the great atrocities of the 20th century,” in which “1.5 million Armenians [were] massacred or marched to their death in the final days of the Ottoman Empire.” He used an Armenian phrase—Meds Yeghern—in referring to it, and he called for “a full, frank and just acknowledgment of the facts.”

Obama seems to intend to imply that meds yeghern means “great atrocity.” The “great atrocity” is the continued Turkish denial that a genocide took place, and that an American president chooses to refer to it in Armenian rather than plain English. As Harut Sassounian writes in “Et tu, Obama? Letter from a Former Admirer”:

You may want to know that “Meds Yeghern” does not mean genocide; it means “Great Calamity.” Armenians used that term before the word “genocide” was coined by Raphael Lemkin in the 1940’s. “Genocide” in Armenian is “Tseghasbanoutyoun,” which is a much more precise term than “Meds Yeghern,” in case you decide to use it in the future.

Not only did your aides come up with the wrong Armenian word, but they failed to provide its English translation, so that non-Armenians could understand its meaning. What was, after all, the point of using an Armenian word in an English text? Did your staff run out of English euphemisms for genocide?

It just so happens meds yeghern fits nicely with the official Turkish position that the murder and death marches “just happened”—that a big war was going on and everyone suffered, Armenians and Turks alike. Sorry, a government-run genocide doesn’t just happen. And there can be no doubt, unless you have been paid off, that it did happen.

The ABC News blog Political Punch has collected some of Obama’s previous remarks on the genocide. Most compelling is his July 28, 2006, letter to Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, protesting her decision to recall the US ambassador to Turkey for letting slip the G-word:

“That the invocation of a historical fact by a State Department employee could constitute an act of insubordination is deeply troubling,” then-Sen. Obama wrote. “When State Department instructions are such that an ambassador must engage in strained reasoning—or even an outright falsehood—that defies of common sense interpretation of events in order to follow orders, then it is time to revisit the State Department’s policy guidance on that issue.”

Obama told Secretary Rice that the “occurrence of the Armenian genocide in 1915 is not an ‘allegation,’ a ‘personal opinion,’ or a ‘point of view.’ Supported by an overwhelmingly amount of historical evidence, it is a widely documented fact.”

Well put.

Obama has had plenty more to say on the subject, often to audiences filled with Armenian Americans, who voted heavily for him in 2008. As reported by Political Punch:

Mr. Obama said that “America deserves a leader who speaks truthfully about the Armenian Genocide and responds forcefully to all genocides. I intend to be that president.”

In a January 2008 letter to the Armenian Reporter, Mr. Obama said he shared “with Armenian Americans—so many of whom are descended from genocide survivors—a principled commitment to commemorating and ending genocide. That starts with acknowledging the tragic instances of genocide in world history.”

Naturally, many Armenian Americans—and any person who thinks (1) words matter and (2) history not only matters, it isn’t even past—are disappointed. Others appear to be in shock: not a peep from my wife’s cousin in Colorado, an ardently voluble Obama supporter from the start. As for myself, I was never enchanted enough to be disenchanted. He’s an improvement—how much of an improvement remains to be seen.

The sound of crickets chirping from Yerevan after Obama’s statement on the 24th has led some to believe that his meds yeghern moment is part of a sophisticated bargaining strategy, as the US tries to broker an agreement between Armenia and Turkey that would normalize relations. Among other reasons, this is why I have put off commenting on this textbook example of how to go back on your word. And maybe the purported bargain will pay off. I tend to think it gives cover to the hardliners in Turkey and will not help heal the rift. But if it allows him to play hardball with Turkey in the background while playing patty-cake in public, it’s probably a small price to pay. The problem is, longstanding geopolitical thinking puts the ball and bat and bases (pun intended) and just about the whole playing field in Turkey’s hands, and Obama has shown no interest in slaying the beast of conventional wisdom in US foreign policy.

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McGuffey

See WorldWideWeber.
See WorldWideWeber neglect his blog.
Bad, WorldWideWeber, bad!

See Tim Go

Refrigerator magnet

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Autobiograffiti

Not only am I getting tired of Facebook (after a mere 13 months of use), I’ve started wondering how much time I’ve already wasted there. It didn’t take very long for me to get fed up and shut down all applications, so if a Facebook bot sends me an egg or kidnaps me or asks me to list x number of fascinating things about me, I just ignore it. And I’ve always been free to not look at new photos, new self-quiz results, new complaints about the rain or snow, new updates on happy or rocky relationships, etc., although it’s hard not to see them. But the time spent composing status messages—well, for that I have no one to blame but myself.

It seems to me that my blogger friends are blogging less and Facebooking more. I don’t think we can attribute that all to the fact that the election season is over (although I’m sure Nate Silver has seen a precipitous drop in his visits). Maybe they’re just living life more, which is great. I know that’s what I’m doing when I’m not blogging.

Still, I couldn’t let March pass without a single post. Being a fundamentally lazy person, and finding myself in the mood to memorialize my year on Facebook as I prepare to cut back on my participation (admittedly modest, compared to some of the addicts I see out there), I figure I’d pull all my status messages from Facebook’s ravenous maw and copy them here as a pathetic but possibly admonitory example of Facebooky navel-gazing. Some of the entries still almost make sense; some elicted rejoinders that far outshone the status message itself. And the earliest ones show just how lost I was at first in the Facebook universe. Does this traipse backward in time qualify as autobiography? Hardly. But it’s something, and that’s better than nothing. Maybe.

At any rate, here goes …

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Kindling

Some quick impressions of the Kindle reading device after two days of use:

It’s smaller than I expected. The screen is larger than those on several PDAs I’ve used heavily to read on in the past, but not as large as even a small-format paperback. The small size is good and bad, of course. It’s incredibly thin, but it has a good heft to it, allowing you to feel comfortable handling it (i.e., not feel as if you’re going to break it). The keypad is correspondingly small, and at first I felt I was going to keep hitting two keys at once; but after getting used to it, and not being worried about pressing hard, I’ve managed to type decently well without typos (I’ve never had a phone/PDA with a keypad, so this thumb-typing is new to me).

The “electronic ink” performs as well as the hype: incredibly clear type and very nice grayscale images (when the device goes to sleep, the text is replaced by pictures of famous authors and old engravings). The type is scalable to six sizes, and I’m finding the second-smallest puts the most comfortably readable text on the screen. (One thing I didn’t like about reading on the PDAs was the scant amount of text per screen. I tend to circle back in my reading a lot, and it’s nice not to have to page back to get at the text.)

You really need adequate light to read on the Kindle. The surface is moderately nonreflective, so glare is pretty well under control. Coming from the PDA world, where I could read Great Expectations in low light (or no light), this will require a change in my lighting habits. Perhaps this is partly due to the fact that the “paper” is an unexpectedly deep shade of gray, but it’s mainly due to the fact that the Kindle isn’t self-illuminated like a PDA or computer monitor.

Downloading new material from Amazon via the built-in wireless (“Whispernet”) is incredibly fast, as advertised. It’s almost too easy to buy new stuff—purchases go through Amazon’s One-Click checkout without the need to key in any personal information. The Manage Your Kindle page at Amazon is nicely designed, so it’s easy to keep track of your purchases and subscriptions.

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Wasabi

I was looking forward to “crazy” on Tuesday, but didn’t expect so much of teh stupid.

Up until late Monday, Laura and I planned to head down to the Mall at a not-too-unreasonable hour and see what we could see of the swearing-in. We are, after all, just ordinary folk. But a former neighbor (and extraordinary guy) stopped by Monday evening, offering two tickets to the standing-room area of the Capitol lawn. The tickets had a nice purple border, corresponding to the area designated for our humble presence.

But like a one-way sign that is no guarantee you won’t be run over by a car going the wrong way, this pretty ticket—signed by Senator Dianne Feinstein, chair of the Joint Congressional Committee on Inaugural Ceremonies (JCCIC)—didn’t mean we’d actually get to stand in the purple area and watch Barack Obama be sworn in from a few hundred meters away. Due to a complete breakdown of crowd control and security management, we were among the tens of thousands of ticket holders who never made it through the purple, blue, and silver gates.

The details of this mess are now being sorted out in the proper places (e.g., within minutes a Facebook group was created, “Survivors of the Purple Tunnel of Doom”) and in the mainstream as well. So I’ll spare the details. Just Google it. I’m tired of the whole thing. As I said in a comment I dropped somewhere, I don’t feel sorry for myself. Despite the subfreezing temperatures and idiocy of standing around for three hours (some stood around for twice that and didn’t get in), I’m glad we went down there. We met some great people from all over: Michigan, Florida, New York City (Queens); even a guy from my wife’s hometown in Wisconsin—a quiet gentleman in an impressive black fur coat, who works for Racine’s most renowned and community-conscious employer, Johnson Wax. Those are the folks we felt bad for, people who were our guests in the District of Columbia and who were treated so shabbily. Unfortunately it’s a moot point whether those in charge will learn a lesson from this fiasco: the inauguration of Barack Obama was a once-in-a-lifetime event, and they blew it: the JCCIC, Capitol police, and Secret Service (which unpredictably closed off streets that were supposed to be clear, creating a fluid maze and ensuring that lines would turn into mobs—although, as I said elsewhere, these were the most docile, genial mobs I have ever been part of).

At a little after noon, after hearing the distant cheer of an unseen crowd and the echoing booms of a 21-gun salute, we left the area near 1st and C Streets NW, but not before Laura banged on the temporary fence and got one of the cops to come over. (It must be said, they did a most excellent job of ignoring us for three hours.) While she tried to get an explanation from the guy, I leaned against a tree with my eyes closed. When I opened them, one of our new friends from Michigan was taking my picture. I smiled wanly, and she said, “To help remember the day.” Earlier she had gently scolded me when I called out through the fence: “Thanks for nothing!” She said they were just doing their jobs. I said, if that’s true, their jobs were pretty pointless. I said I was letting them know I’m disappointed since I’ll never be face to face with whoever designed their “plan” and set it in motion (or did neither). She said, rightly: “That’s not what this day is about. Let’s be grateful and enjoy that.” How could I disagree with this lovely African American woman who had traveled so much further than I and whose feelings about the new president most likely run deeper?

Laura and I started walking toward a Metro station, encountering hundreds of vendors hawking tacky memorabilia and noticing the trash collecting like snowdrifts against curbs and buildings. We started down into the Gallery Place station, took one look at the crowd at the turnstiles, and turned around. We walked up to Faragut Square and had lunch at a place Laura has wanted me to try for some time, Wasabi. As the name implies, it’s Japanese, but with a twist: little plates of food move along a conveyor from the kitchen to the other end of the restaurant and back. There are booths along one side and bar seating on the other. The plates are color-coded* by price and labeled; if you see something you like, you just take it off the conveyor. When you’ve eaten your fill, they tally up the plates. Delicious and fun.

When we finished, we kept walking north on 18th, which was basically taken over by pedestrians north of K Street. It’s always a liberating feeling when the people take over the streets, so my spirits soared a bit a this point. We ended up walking all the way home, sparing Metro two additional riders on their record-breaking day. (We had taken the Metro from Tenleytown to Judiciary Square in the morning—a crowded but boardable train appeared within two minutes. They actually were running on the rush-hour schedule, as advertised.) We watched some of the TV coverage and called it a day.

And that’s the way it was, January 20th, 2009.
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*Color-coded! The irony just now hit me.

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Auguration

Far be it from me to try and predict how the Obama presidency will turn out. Many of us had a feeling the Bush years would be bad, but did any of us dream it would turn out as disastrous as it did?

I saw a teaser today at the New York Times saying that David Brooks is “satisfied” so far with Obama and that Gail Collins is “worried” (didn’t bother to read the article). I’m a bit of both, which says a lot about both Obama and myself; but it’s the possibility of agreeing with the self-satisfied, strange-thinking Brooks that really has me worried.

Show Some TeethA lot of people are having fun making their own pseudo-Shepard Fairey posters at Paste Magazine. I hope Barack likes mine.

I’m looking forward to seeing how crazy it gets down on the Mall on Tuesday. Maybe I’ll get a nice photo of me next to Obama (i.e., a Jumbotron Obama). Last week I saw a truck hauling about twenty pedicabs into town, and WABA is sponsoring bike valet parking at two locations. Other than that, I have no idea how people are going to get around. We may end up walking to the Mall from Tenleytown (and back) if Metro is swamped.

Then again, maybe temperatures in the low thirties Fahrenheit will keep the crowds down—maybe only a couple million. We shall see.

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Sundries

The year is rapidly drawing to a close, and activity here has dwindled to a trickle. The world outside continues to undergo sundry shocks and transformations, while life in the basement has become more inward.

After all the excitement and anxiety of the presidential campaign, Barack Obama is off to a solid start. He has already disappointed some of his most ardent supporters in choosing Rick Warren to give the invocation at his inauguration. I sympathize with those who are angry at this apparent betrayal, but if this is the worst decision Obama makes in his presidency, we should all be very happy indeed.

What I want from Obama are three things: implementation of a two-state solution in Israel/Palestine; universal health care; and a reversal of the US policy of projecting its military might around the globe. He can have Howdy Doody give an invocation for all I care, if it offers the possibility of fruitful dialogue between progressives and puppets.

I’ll note in passing a story that has pretty much been ignored in the mainstream press: the sudden death of a person with a key role in the alternate (nongovernmental) e-mail system used by Karl Rove and other White House operatives to evade official archiving and other inconvenient things. The news knocked loose a memory of blogging by Thomas Nephew on the subject back in April 2007. And a chain of clicks led me to Larisa Alexandrovna, who intends to stay on the story, since the deceased had been a major source for an investigation she has been conducting.

But let’s end on a happy note, shall we? Back in September the president of Turkey, Abdullah Gül, paid a visit to Armenia to watch a soccer match. Although his route to the stadium was lined with protesters, Gül said he was pleased with the reception. This incipient thaw in relations between Armenia and Turkey is very welcome indeed.

Recently a petition has appeared on the web, initiated by a group of Turkish intellectuals, apologizing for the Armenian genocide (without actually using the word “genocide”). The petition reads: “My conscience does not accept the insensitivity showed to and the denial of the Great Catastrophe that the Ottoman Armenians were subjected to in 1915. I reject this injustice and for my share, I empathise with the feelings and pain of my Armenian brothers. I apologise to them.” Some Turks immediately took umbrage, and others probably made more of the petition than it could logically bear. It was as much about the Turkish government’s attempt to control debate as it was about the Armenian genocide per se. According to Hürriyet Daily News, Cengiz Aktar, widely considered the architect behind the petition, said the petition was not “a campaign about the genocide debate.”

“This is about private individuals, citizens, acting according to the voice of their conscience, and apologizing for the last 90 years this topic was not even discussed,” said Aktar, a Bahçeşehir University academic. Pointing out that the topic had always been a taboo, but still so far 13,500 signatories have broken it, he said. “It has never been discussed like this before. Next time it comes up, everybody should take into account the 13,500 people who feel this way.”

Providing an odd cherry on top of this delightful confection, a member of the Turkish parliament has declared that President Gül’s maternal grandmother is of Armenian descent (making him a “crypto-Armenian,” as a Turkish journalist sarcastically put it), and that’s why he’s “supporting the Armenians.” What makes this delicious to me is that the Turkish word gül (“rose”) is part of my wife’s name, along with the Turkish word for “white.” I guess that makes my Armenian “white rose” a crypto-Turk!

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Anticipation

Shepard Fairey's Obama poster from OBEYFor someone who keeps asserting that the presidential contest is proceeding pretty much as expected, and who spends much of his time trying to calm the nervous Nellies, I have been spending an awful lot of time lately at FiveThirtyEight.com, watching for signs of disaster. By and large I have been made happy by what I’ve not seen: any serious movement in the polling that would indicate trouble for Obama on November 5.

So, tomorrow I vote, the voting ends, and someone will be elected president. Naturally, I hope it’s Barack Obama, but my vote in the District of Columbia will have scant effect on the outcome. It would be nice if I could vote in Ohio and make more of a difference, but until we decide that “place of birth” can be substituted for “current residence” in registering to vote, I will continue to merely pad the results in a place of little consequence, as far as the Electoral College goes.

Before we leave this campaign behind, I can’t help taking note of a particularly ridiculous mantra that the McCain camp has recited for the last month or so. While patiently explaining his tax proposals to a Republican “man in the street” in Ohio by the name of Samuel Joseph Wurzelbacher, soon to morph into a cartoon character called Joe the Plumber, Obama said the tax plan would “spread the wealth,” specifically to the “Joe the Plumber” of early times, when he wasn’t on the verge of cracking the $250K barrier (which, it turns out, he wasn’t anyway) and could use some financial encouragement in the form of lower taxes. In the retelling by GOP operatives, this became “redistribution of the wealth,” and to support this stronger version of what Obama didn’t say, they dug up a radio interview from 2001 in which law professors were discussing an old and generally discredited and unused theory of redistributive mechanisms in the hands of the courts. In the course of the scholarly discussion, Obama expressed skepticism that the courts were configured for that sort of activity. This the McCain camp waved around as evidence that Obama is a “socialist.” Later, as is their wont, they upped the vituperative ante to “Marxist.”

It’s all nonsense, of course, and a sign of the desperation that descended on the McCain campaign in October. The Obama campaign dealt with this junk moderately well, at times with a welcome dose of humor. But they never said the obvious: McCain apparently does not like to see wealth spread around. McCain and his party prefer to see wealth concentrated.

It took an old Republican operative and Reagan staffer, David Gergen, to put the lie to the McCain campaign’s tomfoolery:

Gergen suggested that the Democrats should invoke the example of Teddy Roosevelt, who was both a Republican and one of the greatest advocates of progressive taxation in the years immediately preceding the enactment of the current income tax.

Gergen also noted that the Reagan administration was responsible for enacting the Earned Income Tax Credit, an extremely successful redistribution program which returns money to the working poor.

“Sometimes they get so carried away that they don’t realize the realities of what we’ve been going through,” Gergen added. Apparently referring to McCain’s promises to “create more wealth,” he explained that “the wealth over the last 30 years has been redistributed—it’s been redistributed upwards. As we grow, the top one percent’s getting a disproportionate share.”

(Note that Gergen includes the Reagan years in his criticism.) Wealth redistributed upward—i.e., concentration of the wealth in a few hands. Progress will entail active efforts to reverse the trend to oligarchy and plutocracy in the United States of America.

Perhaps the first step will be taken tomorrow.

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Georgious

Not many notes have been emanating from the basement recently. A lot has been happening upstairs, but the excitement generated there is unlikely to be of particular interest to you. And of course something big is afoot in the world outside, yet whenever I’m on the verge of writing about an especially funny or shocking or disgusting or seminal episode in the presidential campaign that is finally, finally coming to a close, I find that someone has already said it, and the urge passes. By and large I have been content to let everyone else do the talking online, and stick to kvetching and comparing notes with a few folks in person or in our venerable family forum—which, again, concerns you not.

And so, to kill some time between now and Tuesday, and to get a post in for the month of October, I’ll cobble together a personal, far from comprehensive, somewhat belated roundup of Russian news.

In late July one of my brothers gave me a T-shirt, for no reason other than the fact it had Russian writing on it and he figured I might like it. I do like it, but as luck would have it, I couldn’t wear it for a while.

Kiss Me, I'm Russian

It says, “Kiss me, I’m Russian!” (In the States, anyway, you come across such stuff all the time—“Kiss me, I’m Italian,” “Kiss me, I’m Lithuanian,” etc., etc.) Just the thing to wear during my bicycle commute, since my other T-shirts are getting ratty. Unfortunately, in August the Russians invaded Georgia, and my commute takes me past the Russian embassy, where the Georgians picketed for several weeks: “Russian tanks … out of Georgia” was the chant I heard the most as I pedaled by. I resisted the urge to congratulate them on having a president who is just about as reckless as ours. Speaking of whom, how could a person not laugh when George W. Bush, with no trace of irony (of course), criticized Russia’s “bullying and intimidation.” He said “Georgia’s sovereignty and territorial integrity must be respected.”

The Russia bashing started in earnest, as prescribed by our fetid foreign policy conventional wisdom—even Barack Obama felt the need to join in, unfortunately. One could find scattered attempts in the US press to put the conflict in context, but the tenor of the coverage was Cold War redux. Here are a few pieces I found evenhanded or sympathetic (gasp!) to the Russian point of view:

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Bespoken

And now for a quick roundup of bicycling news.

The city of Washington, DC, finally launched its long-heralded bike-sharing program. It proved to be a smash hit, and plans are afoot to expand it. Within days, an attempt was made to steal one of the bikes from its very public parking place. You didn’t expect that, did you? The bike was fatally damaged, but unstolen. So there, you bad person!

From sunny Racine, Wisconsin, our favorite resort town on the slate-gray shores of Lake Michigan, comes news of a new outlet for the competitive urges of devotés (and devotées—let’s not be sexist) of the derailleur: the Tour de Racine. This is long overdue. Racine is, after all, a French name. Whether it respectfully evokes the renowned writer of that name, or is an arch reference to the river that runs through it (viz., the Root River), or both, I do not know for sure. Perhaps the devoted reader does.* Who won, you ask? Some guy from Winnipeg. Winnipeg! The one in Manitoba, presumably. Did he travel all that way just for the Tour? (Tour? Actually, a dizzying number of laps around a 0.78-mile stretch of downtown Racine.) Or did he just happen to be in town? Do I care enough to research it? No.

Speaking of Canada, good news from Toronto: the bicycle thief is caught. Not just any bicycle thief (like the sad sacks in De Sica’s movie). No, this guy stole around 2,800 bikes. He was a Bicycle Thief. And not just. This guy, Igor Krenk, “was something of an informal social worker, … giving work to street people and outpatients from a nearby mental health institution. Of course, the police say some of that work involved stealing bicycles.” The funny thing is, for a long time Torontoans strongly suspected what was going on—some of the victims of bike thievery would actually buy their bikes back from him. (Did I mention he ran a bike shop?) The cops needed to catch him red-handed, apparently, so they set up a sting. And lookee here: he’s Slovenian! What an intrepid race! What an impressive bike-stealing record! Here’s a more personal take on the whole biking vibe up in Toronto, and I provide this link only to show what a handsome Slovenian dude Igor Krenk is when he’s cleaned up a little.

On a personal note, I finally did what was necessary to bring my Trek 750 out of mothballs (or, more precisely, the road dust and cobwebs of garage level three at my location d’emploi): new cassette, new crankset, new chain, new rear wheel, new brake pads, and, in an unexpected development, a new shifter cable. It’s good to be back on the good old Trek, and it always feels good to have done the work yourself. As usual, I picked up a new tool or two along the way. And I’ve become a chain fanatic, or chain evangelist, or whatever. Chain obsessed. That new chain-wear tool will see a lot of use. Sick of buying drivetrain components.

I read that some employers are taking baby steps toward incentives for bicycle commuters. That’s all—not much to this yet. I know I ain’t getting anything from anyone for biking to work.

Finally, and sadly, a bicyclist was killed this summer in the Dupont Circle neighborhood of Washington. A trash truck traveling westbound on R Street turned right onto 20th and nailed a young woman who was biking to work at the Middle East Institute. The DC police have yet to release a final report. The Washington Area Bicyclist Association placed a ghost bike at the site of the accident and is staying on top of it. She may have made a fatal mistake, or it may have been the driver, or both. But it goes without saying we need to make the streets safer for bikes.
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*Wikipedia says the latter (sans the “arch” part), but begs the question: What was the Root River named after? Is that what “chippecotton” means? Or “kipikawi”? Or “ot-chee-beek”? Or was there some white man named Root who named it? More questions than answers, as usual. [back]

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