The Foreign Service Journal, February 2006

Denver’s cultural life is 200 miles away, and I’m seldom called by any- one in Washington to ask my opinion on a policy matter. But I have a great ski mountain to play on for four or five months each year and an expansive wilderness region to hike and bike between June and October. Great golf, bountiful wildlife, rushing creeks and rivers, incredible wildflowers in the spring, no air conditioning required, and no Beltway traffic to deal with. For me the trade-off is easy. The Ute Indians who inhabited the valley before white fur traders settled here spoke of the “Curse of the Yampa Valley.” It was that anyone who spent a season in the valley would be cursed from then on always to return. I have suffered from the curse since my first season in Steamboat Springs; and each and every time I return home from a trip, I heave that knowing sigh of relief as I cruise over Rabbit Ears Pass and look down on my valley: Home in paradise, safe at last. Don Mathes Steamboat Springs, Colo. Walking Through Retirement Luck and an overseas experience played a role in our satisfactory retire- ment. First, the good luck: Our two children are creative, self-sufficient adults who profited from their Foreign Service youth (although they may not have thought so at the time). We are also lucky to have good genes, and are pretty hale and hearty at 78. Second, the experience abroad: During the oil crisis of the 1970s, we were at the consulate general in Rotterdam. The sensible Dutch, faced with a gasoline shortage, declared “Autoless Zondags.” So we cycled or walked on Sunday outings, even though diplomats were exempt from the restriction. That was the first time we gave serious thought to walk- ing as a means of transportation. Assigned to Washington soon after, we bought a house in the District where we could walk to everything, including the department. In addi- tion, a narrow house with multiple stories and lots of stairs meant built-in aerobic exercise. That was 1977, and our colleagues thought we had taken leave of our senses. The neighborhood had been abandoned by both the black and white middle class after the riots fol- lowing the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in 1968. But beautiful old 19th-century residences and vibrant Dupont Circle were making a comeback. Today we stroll to U Street for designer pizza or to the 14th Street theater district, the Phillips Gallery or the Dupont Circle Cinema. Realtors tout the neighborhood: luxury town- houses in the low seven figures, ideal location, walking distance from every- thing. For almost 15 years we walked Io, our beloved husky/German shepherd, up to Meridian Hill, down to Lafay- ette Square, around Roosevelt Island and along trails in Rock Creek Park. When we visited San Francisco, we explored the peninsula’s Coastal Range and the Berkeley Hills with Io. For many years my spouse was zoning chair for the Dupont Circle Citizens’ Association, and Io provided cover as he prowled neighborhood alleys to check on questionable new decks or additions. Rain, shine or snow, my spouse walks three round-trip miles to his job as a behind-the-scenes volunteer at the Smithsonian. For almost 20 years he has worked in the numismatic section of the American History Museum, where he catalogs and attributes one of the finest collections of Russian coins in the world. It was given to the Smithsonian by Willis B. Dupont in the 1960s and 1970s, and contains many great rarities. My spouse has published articles in the scholarly Jour- nal of the Russian Numismatic Society ; one of them, “Count Emeryk Hutten- Czapski, His Interest and Expertise in Russian Numismatics,” was received with acclaim in numismatic circles. Although coins have been his first love since youth, my spouse insists he vol- unteers at the Smithsonian because he can walk to work. My volunteer commutes, also on foot, to the Woman’s National Demo- cratic Club and to DC Vote to advo- cate full voting rights for residents of the District of Columbia are clocked in minutes. Shortly after settling in Washington in 1985, I began record- ing oral histories, first with Foreign Service spouses and later with mem- bers of WNDC. I could walk to con- duct FS interviews in Georgetown and Sheridan Circle, and to transcribe interviews at the organization’s his- toric mansion just off Dupont Circle. We plan to stay in our house and keep on walking. More and more frequently I eye the basement, well aware that we should finish the roughed-in bedroom and bath for a caregiver, should walking ever 54 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / F E B R U A R Y 2 0 0 6 The sensible Dutch, faced with a gasoline shortage, declared “Autoless Zondags.” That was the first time we gave serious thought to walking as a means of transportation. — Jewell Fenzi