Monthly Archives: January 2020

Kalorama by Call Box

On a recent walk in DC, my husband and our young friend Gabriel and I parked the car at Woodley Park and wandered around, through Adams Morgan. We took a couple of turns and found ourselves confronted by the rarified architecture of Sheridan-Kalorama.

This historic district is home to ambassadors, politicians (and their relatives), ex-presidents, and various other rich folks. Gabriel, an avid smart phone user, gave us a running commentary as to whose house was whose, but there was another form of interpretation that, to me, was a lot more fun: repurposed call boxes.

What’s a call box? Well, according to the project’s web site, call boxes were used in the past (from “the 19th century” until the 1970s when the 911 system made them unnecessary) to call police or firemen in emergencies. You may have noticed them on city street corners – boxes of various shapes on a pole, painted red.

In 2003, the committee heading this project starting working to turn the abandoned call boxes into “mini-museums” with interpretive labels on one side, and original art work on the other. There are sixteen of them; we only saw three or four. Finding them all could make for a fun scavenger hunt/walking tour.

The “Women of Influence” box is located just inside a security fence surrounding a stately home. All along this fence is a sign that warns the viewer that you will be violating the law if you get any nearer. This turns out to be Ivanka Trump and Jared Kushner’s digs. The call box is more interesting than that fact in my opinion.

Another box detailed the history of a nearby house called The Lindens, which was built in Massachusetts in 1754 and moved to Washington, DC in six railway cars and reassembled in DC in 1935. Without the call box, you’d just walk past the house and probably admire it, but you’d have no idea it was so well traveled.

You can read about the rest of the Sheridan-Kalorama call box mini-museums here. There’s a map of the neighborhood so that you can embark on your own walking tour as well.

“Kalorama” means “fine view” in Latin, and the view is indeed fine there, which we found out as we walked across the bridge back to Woodley Park as the sun was setting.

Getting the Hang of It

Let’s go jump off a mountain!” No thanks. Standing cautiously on the very top a ramp that ends in nothingness makes me queasy. I take in the view, but step back to safety seconds later.

Visiting The Pulpit, a hang gliders dream launch spot near our vacation cabin above McConnellsburg, PA is a must to take in the splendors of south central Pennsylvania. The rocky promontory, located a little ways beyond the iconic biker beer joint The Mountain House, apparently got its name from a visiting preacher who expounded from the stony perch.

Up a small rock strewn slope, there are two wooden (and, to me, sort of creaky looking) ramps, one smaller than the other. If you go at sunrise, which I never do because I prefer my warm bed at that hour, you can face east and get a glorious view over the ridges. At sunset (the better option in my opinion), you get the view over the town, the farmland and to the western mountains.

One of the many interns who lived with us temporarily over the years, Anneke from Germany, came to the cabin with us one wintry weekend about ten years ago. We walked to the Pulpit and she met some intrepid hang gliders from the club that frequents the site. She fell instantly in love with the idea of learning to hang glide, or, she later decided, to paraglide.

If you think hang gliding sounds risky, paragliding is even more crazy. Instead of jumping off a ramp into nothingness strapped to some substantial wings, you jump into nothingness tethered to a wide parachute held precariously by a bunch of thin ropes. She successfully mastered this bizarre hobby, and last time I checked she was still alive and well.

The view is thrilling enough for me. Leave flying to the birds.