The Kennedy Center Is Part of Our Story

The Kennedy Center holds a special place in our history.

One winter evening, after a jazz concert at the Kennedy Center—already hilarious when you consider we were in our early 20s—we were standing on the balcony overlooking the city. At the time, I was making $10 an hour. Kris had recently started teaching. He lived on his own. I still lived with my parents.

He looked at me and said, "We should get married."

I looked back and said, "No."

Not because I didn't want to marry him eventually. I absolutely did. I just had no interest in getting married before I had my own life in order. I wanted a career. I wanted a paycheck that covered more than gas money. I wanted my own shit together.

You can probably tell who the romantic is in our relationship and who is, perhaps to a fault, practical.

A few years later, when we actually started planning our wedding, I remained deeply committed to avoiding most of the traditional parts of it. I didn't want anything big. I didn't want to wear white. I didn't want to walk down an aisle. I didn't want my father "giving me away." I definitely didn't want a church ceremony.

Kris, however, felt we should have something.

So we compromised.

We got married in our living room by a justice of the peace with our parents present. Then, a month later, we planned what was essentially a very nice cocktail reception.

I started looking at venues that felt like us—places that were part of our story. Eventually I called about the Rooftop Terrace at the Kennedy Center, the very place where Kris had suggested marriage and I had politely declined.

It was available and within budget.

The evening was everything we hoped it would be. The weather cooperated. The monuments glowed. There was a distant lightning storm flickering on the horizon.

And according to literally everyone there, the crab cakes were amazing.

I wouldn't know.

I was so busy that I barely ate a thing.

We have since gone back for anniversaries and since having Lillie, have taken her to a few events. The Kennedy Center is now part of our family's story.

Which is why it has been so disappointing to watch an institution that means something to so many people become the latest target of our the gilded pedofile in office.

As of today, thanks to brave activists, his name is no longer on the building. Maybe after the next election we’ll have a government that remembers public institutions exist to serve the public, not as props for personal branding exercises, political favors, or whatever backroom deal is currently benefiting the people now in charge.

When that day comes, I’ll happily head back to that Rooftop Terrace Restaurant, order the crab cake I’ve been chasing for nearly two decades, and enjoy it knowing my money is supporting artists, performers, and one of our country’s great cultural institutions—not the cronies orbiting a deeply cruel and anti-democratic administration.

Until then, the crab cake remains unfinished business.