Eric and Jill in the Bishop's Garden at the National Cathedral.
Top: Sanda and Steve just after they graduated from George Washington University.
Bottom: At a barbecue in Dupont, Jeff shows off a bit of his belly prior to taking off for Costa Rica by way of Chicago.
Fugazi, performing in Ft. Reno Park.
I think this is from the Ft. Reno show the summer of 1997, but it could be a different year.
In a pool hall in Dupont, Steve prepares to break.
The fountain at the Hirshorn.
Winter is starting to bore me as a theme, so I'm moving on to photos of D.C.
The Canton neighborhood in Baltimore.
I took this photo around 4 in the morning, while walking back to my car after a party at a friend's place. I rarely make it up to Baltimore anymore, which is a shame. Hopefully, I will be up there in the spring though, so I can catch the debut of Miguel Tejada as an Oriole.
Lee, in New York.
This is the last place I lived, just after the first snowfall of December of 2002 actually made it look kind of nice. The snow did a good job of covering up the sea of mud that my landlords left behind after beginning landscaping in August of 2002, which they didn't finish until sometime during the spring of 2003.
Another major event in my busy summer was Hart and Melissa's wedding. I don't have too many photos, because I was pretty busy with my duties as best man. I did take a few pictures while the bridal party was walking around the College Park campus getting our pictures taken by the wedding photographer.
Like the earlier picture, this is also on the CMU campus.
One of my coworkers (who had just returned from living in Germany for 4 years) has just introduced me to Hans Muff. Hans Muff isn't a person, but turns out to be the negative reinforcement that balances out Santa Claus. If you're a bad kid, you aren't just threatened with the prospect of a Christmas without gifts, you also get a beating, and possibly get carried off in a sack by Hans Muff.
The concept of a scary alter ego to Santa made a certain type of sense to me, especially since it comes from the land that gave us the Brothers Grimm, and it certainly doesn't seem as strange as having St. Nick being accompanied by 6 to 8 black men. [At some point after I linked to this article, Esquire took it down, and added it to Esquire Premium, the pay section of their website, sorry.]
From what I have been able to find out, Hans Muff aka Krampus aka Knecht Ruprecht aka Pelzebock is an alter ego or assistant of St. Nicholas. Krampus comes to town on December 5th, the day before St. Nicholas Day, and punishes all of the bad children by beating them with switches. Krampus seems to have varied alot over the centuries but usually appears as a fur covered man with devil horns. In any case, there still seems to be alot of interpretations of Krampus, depending on which area of Germany or Austria you're in. I noticed that just like every other holiday celebration, it seems like people also use Krumpas an excuse to get stinking drunk.
Frozen bushes in Columbia, MD.
Winter has definetly arrived, and I was not exactly prepared. To make things worse, my coworkers are contracting various maladies from their children
disease vectors, and 2 of my roommates are sick as well.
Pittsburgh during the winter, sometime during the mid 90s.
*Editor's Note: A few weeks ago.
Vernon Wells breaks his bat.
The centerpiece of the whole trip was Fenway. I was pretty excited to see Fenway since it is the kind of old fashioned park that served as the inspiration for Camden Yards. We had pretty strange seats, which it seemed were actually on the roof of an adjacent building. Even though the seats were relatively high up, Fenway is such a small park that I wasn't too far from the field.
Unfortunately for Mark and all of the other Botson fans, the Sox lost. Halladay was in control for the whole game, and despite starting to falter in the seventh inning, he pitched the whole game and only gave up 2 runs.
I had wanted to post a panorama of Fenway stitched together from 5 or 6 seperate photos, but my stitching software is on another computer that is not being very cooperative right now, and I'm too lazy to do it by hand. I'll try to get the panorama up another time.
Top: Part of a baseball diamond in the Commons.
Bottom: In the graveyard at the southern end of the Commons.
I spent a good amount of time wandering around Boston Commons by myself. I took some pictures, read a bit of a book, and talked on the phone with my brother. The weather was beautiful, and a ton of people were hanging out in the park, which made for some pretty good people watching. After wandering around for a couple of hours, I found a nice quiet place, and took a nap for a little while. I was woken up by a group of young, enthusiastic Christians who announced their presence by breaking into song a few feet from where I was napping.
A week or two ago, I was standing in line in the cafeteria, in the midst of my pre-lunch torpor, when I noticed something subtly different about the place. The change wasnít the food, which ranges from edible to downright horrible, or the dťcor, which is suitably bland for a corporate cafeteria. It was the music. They had changed the radio station.
Usually, the radio is tuned to an innocuous oldies station, but instead of the normal rotation of the same five or six Motown hits, I was listening to Feliz Navidad, which was followed by I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus. After that came the station ID, which told me exactly what I feared, that someone who works in the cafeteria had turned the dial to 97.1 (WASH FM), the D.C. radio station thatís ďAll Christmas, All the Time!Ē
Fortunately, I always eat my lunch at my desk, or WASH FMís all-Xmas playlist could have driven me into a blinding rage ala 28 Days Later, or at least put me in a very bad mood for the rest of the day. This is to say, Iím not a big fan of Christmas music in general, and for me, a radio station that plays only Christmas music is a little piece of hell on earth.
In fact, off the top of my head, I can only think of a few Christmas songs that I actually like:
1. Christmas in Hollis by Run DMC, because the loop of the horn section in that track is great.
2. Fairytale of New York by the Pogues, because, hey, itís the Pogues.
After those fine little numbers, I run out of songs.
Now, it is after Thanksgiving, which means that it's officially the Christmas season, so I'm sure I'll be bombarded by Christmas music in a variety of public places. Luckily, I will be able to minimize my exposure to WASH FM, which should keep me sane. I hope.
JR, pictured above, was pretty helpful in guiding me around to Boston during my stay. Not too long after my visit, he left for Los Angeles to attend CalArts. Take a look at this picture, so you can remember when he was just another guy on the bus, and not a bronzed Hollywood producer noisily snorting lines of coke off the breasts of a starlet.
In the interest of being as untimely as possible, my first series of posts will be about my trip to Boston and New York, which happened last July. The idea for the trip sprang from an offer of a ticket to a Red Sox game from Mark, who is pictured above. For those of you who have not been fortunate enough to make his acquaintance, Mark is an aviator, lender of books, and an all-around cranky bastard, which is why we* love him. What was initially planned out as trip to Boston to attend a Sox game later expanded to include a trip to Foxwoods for poker (in lieu of seeing the White Stripes in Providence, due to Jack White's busted finger), and a few days of wandering around New York while losing pounds of water weight due to the sweltering weather.
*Editor's note: This is not the royal we. Several people are fond of Mark, not just Drew.
Welcome to drewmcdermott.com, which I've setup--after consistent and steady nagging from several sources--for some of my photos. I plan to do a picture of the day type thing, with some galleries of new material when I feel like it. Hopefully I'll get around to working on some revisions to the design of the site, but until then, I'll be sticking with one of the Movable Type templates.