I really wanted to share with you . . .

. . . an experience I had today. But I felt my feelings could be best captivated in my personal journal. Not cause they are private. It's just the whole "audience" thing that hinders me.

But to give you an idea, I crossed a familiar overpass. It's located just off North Capital Street. I've crossed this bridge at least two other times. Once at night as I was taking home some of my students. And once on foot, in broad daylight, with Ben, when we first moved to the city. But today was the first time I realized I'd been in this neighborhood one other time -- without crossing the overpass. Instead I must have driven under it, on a street running north-south. On that occasion, I didn't even realize I was in the same neighborhood.

This rambling may not make sense. But for me this was all so clear. Once in our small Delta, UT library there was a Smithsonian exhibit on the history of fences (it was up when Topaz was recognized as a state park). I'd read on one of the displays that fences weren't the only things that acted as barriers in our human society. But that many times bridges, rivers, train tracks, and over passes could act as dividers.

Each time I've crossed one of DC's East/West overpasses I've been reminded of that exhibit. But today I realized just how strongly these structures act as fences. Without going over the over pass, I'd never noticed I was "on the wrong side of town." Seriously, does our government create these things to serve as constant reminders to those living on the wrong side? "You belong here. Oh, and it's going to take lots of climbing to get out."