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I WAS BRIEFLY FASCINATED by the ceilings of Washington, DC, but only briefly:


at the Jefferson Memorial,

at the Metro Station,

















and then in the president's office of the Old Pension Building, which is also known as the National Building Museum, which is where Tina and I ended up next on our slightly haphazard jaunt through the city.

What happened was--we got to this place, it was just five minutes to wait if we wanted a tour of the building. We did; and we waited; and, after viewing the entire building--seeing as how the architectural creativity and the artistry and the sheer stupendous workmanship that went into building this edifice one hundred and twenty-nine years ago had me simply agog--I forgot about ceilings!


What was offered was a half-hour tour, and we tagged along asking questions and exclaiming at appropriate times.
"How many bricks would you guess were used in building this place?" Our short little frazzly-haired guide posed the question as we bunched around him and gazed at the front of the building from across the street. Right away I thought--Aha! the answer is way more than I'd suppose. So I doubled my guess to four million.



"Fifteen million!" he declared, and he went on to give us all kinds of facts and interesting tidbits,










and pointed out scenes depicted in the frieze, and the varying architectural designs of the windows, and the building's built-in, naturally air-conditioned state.

"Listen up!" I said to Tina. "When we're on our way home, I'm giving you a quiz."




Of course, then I had to keep notes--
$600,000 to build it in 1881--70,000 bricks inside each column--

And about then he launched into a tale of the pensions that were being paid out, way back in the 1880's. It was all very interesting, and it was a gorgeous day, but twenty minutes had gone by--Tina and I were starting to despair of getting a thorough and unrushed tour of the building's inside.



We needn't have worried, of course; the tour lasted more than an hour. We made our way up such pleasing sets of brick staircases--two long flights for each floor.


We stopped off at every level, our tour guide continuing to be a fount of knowledge,

until we rather nervously perched up there on the highest walkway--some seventy-five feet from the ground. (I noticed that no one seemed inclined to hang over the railing.)





That's where the guide finally wrapped up his talk, with details on a variety of near-the-ceiling features, and a description of changing the lightbulbs still far overhead (it can only be done from the roof, where one climbs in a window and performs a daredevilish act).

Tina and I made our way back down the glossy brick stairs, stopping to look at a few exhibits (finding nothing as intriguing as the building itself).


We sat near the indoor fountain (included by the architect to make the air pleasantly humid) while we plotted our next destination.

I know where we should go next! How about one more visit to our favorite room in this building? one of us suggested.

Oh! Great idea! That room's definitely worthy of another look! the other responded.






The afternoon sun cast a yellow glow on the yellow walls
and the yellow fixtures.
Once again we raved.

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