There's a green cross in Washington, D.C. with the Washington Monument at the juncture (or just below it), the Capitol (or RFK Stadium, may it rest in peace) at the Eastern foot, the Lincoln Memorial at the Western head, the White House at the Northern hand, and the Jefferson Memorial at the Southern hand. Three of the blocks of space formed by the cross are largely filled by city. The one between the Lincoln and the Jefferson is water and grass. And now it contains a new memorial which will lead a great many people to make the walk (or bike ride, or rollerblade) between the two memorials. When somebody says "Meet me at the FDR," it won't mean a highway, like in New York, and it won't mean a four door. It will be referring to a beautiful parklike structure that one only notices when in it. The FDR Memorial has no effect on Washington's skyline. It's a long sequence of semi-enclosed spaces, with twelve foot high walls of huge blocks of pinkish granite, numerous waterfalls, trees, sculptures, reliefs, plaques, quotations carved into rock, all of it open to and hugging the cherry trees which ring the Tidal Basin. Pairs of people pedal up in their sky blue pedal boats and stop to float, feet up, watching the people on the benches watching them. The people seem to like each other. One has a sense of simple naive trustful friendliness brought from the fifty states with the children and the cameras. But the memorial is back from this edge. And it is not as crowded with things as I've made it sound. The memorial is enormous. It can't all be seen at once. And the duration of walking through it, from North to South, from FDR's first term to his second to his third to his fourth to his death, gives one an idea of the length of his presidency.