Re-Gain

“I would never join a club that would have me as a member.” — Groucho Marx As a young tennis player winning tournaments, I learned an old truth: to be the best in the country, you had to play in the city. But the city’s country clubs weren’t just athletic centers—they were gatekeepers.Competing at places like Chevy Chase Club exposed me early to a world where privilege dictated access.  Tennis became my first education in the divide between wealth and labor. My father, a Capitol Hill staffer who helped write Medicaid and Medicare, co-founded the Capitol Hill Tennis Team, which I joined as a boy. The little time I spent with him was on the court. Even then, I sensed the tension between public service and private privilege—between the ideals he worked on and the exclusivity surrounding the sport we shared. As a tennis professional, I moved between two Americas. I taught at Edgemoor Club, Bryce Resort, Chevy Chase Club, Palm Beach Polo, and elite schools such as Holton-Arm...

Growing up in the D.C. area, I used to go camping a hundred miles west of the city. I never imagined I would one day spend half my life there. Yet here I am, settled in the heart of the Shenandoah Valley, where I fell in love with the landscape, the simplicity, and the sense of community that holds this place together. When I first arrived, people were scraping by. Many were eating beans and rice, earning less than five dollars an hour, and struggling just to break even. Life was modest, but neighbors looked out for one another. Thirty‑four years ago, I bought my land for $8,000 -- 4.3 acres, a quarter‑acre of it a dry run, the rest rocks and shale. Today, the county says that the same land is worth $90,000, and they’ve assessed my house at roughly $70,000, well above what major real‑estate sites estimate. Meanwhile, my electric bill has climbed steadily, rising about twelve percent on average, mirroring increases in gas and other household costs. Stagflation feels closer t...