What 'Washington, D.C.' Means to Them

The writer, a columnist at the Cleveland Plain Dealer, is married to Sen. Sherrod Brown (D-Ohio).

Utah: We Pretend We Don't Need You

LaVar Christensen, a Republican making a first and ultimately failed run in Utah's 2nd Congressional District last fall, had some chutzpah. His campaign slogan? "America Needs Utah."

No, it doesn't. We are a sparsely populated state that counts about as much as gum on Washington's shoe.

Christensen couldn't help stating, I suppose, what he considered the obvious for Utahns -- 65 percent of whom at some level are Mormon, and keepers of a culture steeped in at least 150 years of doubting and disliking D.C.

A sense of inferiority toward the East lingers here, though I'm always flummoxed as to why. This is some state. Five national parks; seven ski resorts within 30 minutes of Salt Lake City; clean downtown streets that, per Brigham Young's original edict, are still wide enough to turn around a team of oxen (or, in 2007, a Humvee).

Still, Utahns typically look askance at anything generated from inside the Beltway. Except for when we really, really want something. Case in point: The only way Utah could pull off a flawless 2002 Winter Olympics was with healthy injections of federal money for transit, highway, post-Sept. 11 security and forest service improvements. Washington gave; Utah took. And we delivered the best U.S. Olympic Games yet, baby.

We need Washington, even when we pretend we don't. We're like the most self-conscious kid on campus trying to make time with the sweetheart of Sigma Chi. I think you should like us simply for what we are -- the loveliest and slightly wackiest state in the union.

America needs Utah? We know better. But we keep hoping you'll change your mind.

-- Holly Mullen

Salt Lake City

South Dakota: We're Fine, Thank You

Though South Dakota is halfway across the United States -- flyover country to you -- we'd like to be a little farther away from Washington. Because nothing good comes from that piece of former swampland wedged between Virginia and Maryland.

Oh, pork comes from D.C. But South Dakotans don't want much pork. We like what we have -- say, Ellsworth Air Force Base in the state's western part. And we gloat when our politicians retain such plums. But, really, we don't want much else. Okay, maybe a water pipeline.

We don't need cherry blossoms, we're fine with sunflowers and cornstalks. We know good people go to the nation's capital. We just don't like what happens to them when they stay too long. And we think 18 years in the U.S. Senate is long enough (see McGovern, George, and Daschle, Tom).

-- Jill Callison

Sioux Falls, S.D.

The writer is a Sioux Falls Argus Leader columnist.

Alaska: Is It Spring Yet?

I've been to Washington only once. Although it was more than 20 years ago, the memories of the monuments are still fresh. My family was there on the Fourth of July. We watched fireworks on the Mall.

For a kid, those were special memories. But kids grow up. They get a little jaded, a bit cynical. This, despite the fact that they -- my wife and I, actually -- might frequently quote the "Schoolhouse Rock" jingle: I'm just a bill. Yes, I'm only a bill. And I'm sitting here on Capitol Hill. Kids learn about the Republican-Democratic debate, about filibusters and about Monica Lewinsky, Iran-contra, Watergate, Mark Foley.

So, today, to a 30-something journalist from Alaska, Washington is perhaps too frequently about oil drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, Sen. Ted Stevens ("Uncle Ted" to us) and his infamous Bridges to Nowhere.

That's too bad. You can't define a place by what you think you know or what you've heard. If that were the case, most Alaskans would live in igloos -- in reality, very, very few do.

So, what is Washington? I'm not sure. I can't make a judgment based on one visit. But what I recall is a vibrant city with plenty of history. And a place that cherishes its springtime cherry blossoms. From the Alaskan perspective that spring can't get here soon enough, D.C. looks like the best place in the world.

-- Steve Edwards

Anchorage

The writer is an editor at the Anchorage Daily News and moderator of the blog Alaskology.

California: Washington? Say What?

I hate to break it to you, but people in Silicon Valley don't spend a lot of time thinking about Washington.

Oh, sure, we follow the news. We know the federal government is still grinding away, just like a "West Wing" rerun. We tolerate powerful politicians who flock here for campaign cash. We cringe as Immigration and Customs Enforcement and the Department of Homeland Security build the Berlin Wall on our border, Congress blows off health-care reform, and the administration finds new ways to alienate every nation on Earth.

Many of us have visited Washington at least once, to see the monuments and museums. We'd make the trip more often if you'd let us fly directly into the convenient airport named for our former governor, instead of the faraway one with the silly trams.

-- Patty Fisher

San Jose

The writer is a columnist at the San Jose Mercury News.

Vermont: Push Paper? I Don't Think So

Much about the lower 47 puzzles Vermonters; perhaps no place more than Washington. How can so many people dash about, looking so busy, and have so little to show for it at day's end?

In Vermont, we like to see the product of our labor, to feel it or to taste it. We split and stack firewood, and sure enough we set by the warm fire we kindled. We feed cows and milk them, and then we have pails of milk to drink -- and with some more work, ice cream and butter. We clobber away in a granite or marble quarry and, when the sun sets over the Adirondacks, we can rub our hands over the smooth slab of rock we've muscled from the mountainside. We cut timber. We boil sap from maple trees until it magically transforms into syrup. We shovel and then we shovel some more until we have a path through the snow to fetch the mail.

What are all those people doing in the District of Columbia? They crowd into underground trains, they sprint for cabs, they sit for hours around polished tables yakking at each other, and then they go home. Nothing to touch, nothing to taste. Nothing except paper from the trees we cut in Vermont to shove into briefcases everyone seems to hug so passionately.

For what? What is Washington making? Except, of course, enough money to go relax at Nationals games. They used to be our hometown Montreal Expos. If we cut enough wood or sold enough milk, we'd treat ourselves to a baseball game there. Took less time for most Vermonters to travel to an Expos game than it does to go from Prince William County to RFK Stadium.

But the Expos were stolen. By Washington.

-- Ed Shamy

Burlington, Vt.

The writer is a Burlington Free Press columnist.