My first “real” job was with the Bureau of Economic Analysis at 14th and K Streets NW in the District in 1988. The patrons at the nearby McDonald’s were a mix of morning professionals and those coming off the “night shift.” With my first apartment in Silver Spring, my friends and I frequented Quarry House Tavern, Ha’Penny Lion and any place on the Red Line.
In 1990, I searched for a house in the Maryland suburbs. Looking at a house in Glenarden, a real estate agent asked me, “What do your Montgomery County friends think of you moving to Prince George’s County?” After moving into my townhouse in Columbia, a guy at the gym asked, “You’re single — why did you move to Columbia?”
A job change put me in Upper Marlboro and kept me outside the rush-hour congestion of D.C., but also kept me out of the dating scene. From my base in Columbia, I got to know Baltimore better: Sunday Orioles games at Camden Yards with friends and hanging out in Federal Hill, Fells Point and Canton. In between, we had great barbecues on the deck at home — partly because Columbia didn’t have much to offer 30-somethings in the 1990s.
By chance, one of my Camden Yards mates went out with a woman too tall for him. I asked if I could step in; he agreed, and 2 years later she and I married and moved to Virginia.
My wife and I were both working in Tysons Corner in the late 1990s. Houses inside the Beltway were too expensive, crossing the Legion bridge each day from Maryland was a horrific notion, anything south of the Mixing Bowl was out of the question, and Loudoun County just too far away. We found a place just east of Fairfax City, three miles outside the Beltway with back roads to Tysons.
We settled in: good neighbors, good schools and convenient to everything. Our neighborhood and a picture of us were featured in an edition of The Post’s “Where We Live” section.
The Post has always been my “hometown newspaper.” As a kid I would head to the kitchen for breakfast and find it draped over the back of a table chair. (My dad would work through each section, but always back to front). Over the years, The Post has indulged me: a Local Opinion here, a small op-ed there, even a (mildly) cranky letter to the editor on occasion. And editorial board member Chuck Lane took me to lunch after a few friendly Twitter exchanges.
After I ran for Congress as an independent in 2012. I failed to get on the ballot in 2014. I served as an election official until 2020. While it’s a worthwhile endeavor that I highly recommend to everyone, the experience highlighted Virginia’s too-frequent elections in which voting seems to occur every six months and voting fatigue can overwhelm voter interest and sense of duty.
Now my family is about to move to the other side of the Chesapeake Bay, on one of Delaware’s “inland bays.” Though our house is not on the water, we can see the bay from the front porch and put our kayaks in across the street. And we have a community beach where horseshoe crabs spawn, herons wade and sunsets dazzle.
What will we miss from the DMV? Friends, great food, everything so close. What won’t we miss? Traffic, annual vehicle inspections and outdated alcohol laws (and no alcoholic beverages at Delaware grocery or convenience stores either). Southern Delaware is growing and changing. Yes, there are chicken coops and intolerance. Yes, there are residents who feel entitled to tell farmers that they can’t develop their land, though those residents’ houses were built on farmland.
But development brings younger families with receptive attitudes and open arms. Some seeds are already sown: A butcher shop near us is owned by a middle-aged White man who speaks Spanish and has many Black and Latino customers.
The Post won’t be delivered to my driveway in Lower Slower Delaware (a.k.a. “LSD”), so the paper on the kitchen chair will be replaced by a laptop on the kitchen island. I’ll rely on a smattering of online local news along with The Post and a few other trusted outlets.
My love for the DMV won’t end, but my love for Delmarva will grow. And I hope to get a little love in return.
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July 19, 2021 at 09:02PM
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Opinion | A DMV love story - The Washington Post
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