Our Nearest and Dearest In D.C.

Tim and I finally made it to Washington, D.C. just in time for our annual physicals.  So far this visit, we've been peered at, poked, prodded and palpated by our internists, dentist, dermatologist, optician and for me, my audiologist, ophthalmologist, gynecologist and the dreaded mammogram technician.  We've logged 12 doctors' appointments in ten days.  I'm sure our health insurance benefits representative is going crazy trying to keep up with our claims.  But it's been worth it!  We got to spend precious time this weekend with our son and daughter.

Richard lives in D.C. just a few blocks east of the Capitol.  Because he teaches school and coaches extracurricular sports, his free time is practically non-existent so I made sure we claimed a spot on his calendar well in advance for this past weekend when his sister Jillian could join us.

Jillian was transferred to Philadelphia earlier this year.  Like so many other urban dwellers in the northeast, she's selling her car and plans to use public transportation to get around.  Tim and I met her when her bus rolled into D.C.'s Union Station right on time Friday afternoon.

We dropped her bag at her brother's rowhouse and walked over to the National Gallery of Art, stopping to take the requisite snapshot of the Capitol along the way.

Paul Cézanne.  Self Portrait On Rose Background, 1875-1877
Private Collection

There was an exhibition of Paul Cezanne's portraits that we wanted to see, the same exhibition that Melania Trump brought French First Lady Brigette Macron to view just a few days prior to our visit.  The First Ladies had a private tour with the curators of the exhibit.  Our visit found the gallery much more crowded, but still there was room to stop before paintings that captured our attention.

Paul Cézanne.  Boy in a Red Waistcoat, 1888-1890Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Mellon

One of Cezanne's greatest masterpieces is Boy in a Red Waistcoat.  Unlike many artists commissioned to paint portraits of wealthy patrons, Cezanne painted his family, his friends or working class people of his native in Aix-en-Provance.  I'm not certain who this boy was but both Jillian and I agreed that Cezanne captured the angst of an adolescent boy.

Paul Cézanne.  The Artist's Father, Reading "L'Événement", 1866

Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Mellon

One portrait we all liked was the one Cezanne painted of his father.  The painting pokes fun at his father's aspirations for his son whom he'd hoped would become a lawyer--not a painter.  Despite that disappointment, Louis-Auguste Cezanne supported his son financially for years while he experimented with art that found few buyers.  In this portrait of his father, Cezanne shows him reading a journal that was known for its defense of avant-garde art.  Undoubtedly, that was the opposite view of his father who wanted his son to make a decent living painting conventional images popular with the masses.  I could just hear his father saying, "All this is fine, Paul, but it won't pay the bills!"

Saturday after a delicious brunch at a restaurant Richard wanted to try, we wandered through the National Arboretum for a couple hours.  The Arboretum's annual Spring Plant sale was in full swing.  Richard picked up a few pots to set out on his patio.

Then on to the Kennedy Center where we had tickets to the improv production of Shear Madness, a whodunit comedy that's been running there for more than 13,200 performances.  In fact, Tim and I first saw the show back in 1987 when we initially came to D.C.  The insider jokes about D.C.'s politics have changed but the laughs are still plentiful.

Sunday morning church, a leisurely brunch and then it was time to take Jillian back to the station.  I can hardly wait to see her again next weekend in Philadelphia.