"You're never sure how that land of thing will affect you, or when," he says. "We all learned from it, I think. Back after 9/11, there wasn't any choice: Teams just didn't play. That was something we learned from that weekend in 1963"
And he leaves then, across the great lobby and out into the late autumn sunshine. Washington is alive with color as this November afternoon falls toward evening. Earlier that day, across the river in Arlington, down the hill from the gravesite and the eternal flame, drums were beating deep behind the golden trees, distant and muffled, like a heartbeat encased in something that can never melt but only shatter and reform, and then shatter again, over and over and over.