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U.S. East Coast (Summer 2003)

Friday, July 25

We leave the house at 5:00 in the morning, an hour which the kids pronounce akin to suicide. The two flights are uneventful, but by the time we finally get to Richmond (Virginia) and secure our rental car, it's almost 7:00 pm. Still light out, though, and we're immediately struck by all the foliage. Summer at home is brown, the highways divided by concrete. Here we're surrounded by green, the highways divided by trees. An hour later at our hotel in Charlottesville, the manager directs us to the historic downtown area, a charming pedestrian mall with live music and outdoor vendors. We cannot, however, find anyplace historic to eat, so we end up at a regular restaurant called the Hardware Store. Walking back after dinner, Devon (14) is freaked out by a cockroach. Whenever we make plans to go anywhere, her first question is whether there will be a lot of bugs.

Saturday, July 26

Following a short but beautiful drive up into forested hills, our first stop today is Monticello, Thomas Jefferson's home. The house is smaller than we expected, the rooms cozy. Evidence of Jefferson's genius is everywhere, from the seven-day clock in the entry hall to the dumbwaiters bringing wine up from the cellar. Here we get a sense of the man behind the legend, his very-human quirks, the things he loved (books, science, his eleven grandchildren). After touring the usual outbuildings, which Jefferson cleverly built beneath the house off an all weather passageway, we explore the gardens, vineyards, and the single room house where Jefferson and his wife spent the first year of their marriage.

I've always wanted to write a book set in Colonial and/or Revolutionary War America, but (unfortunately) there is currently a very small market for such tales, so editors hesitate to buy them. Nevertheless, just being here, the ideas are flying in my head. I make some notes, seeds that I hope someday will grow into stories, and when we stop in Monticello's shop, I buy a bunch of research books for someday. I'm dying to use this house as a setting.

Instead of taking the shuttle bus back down to the car, we decide to walk to the Jefferson graveyard and then take a path through the forest. Trees tower all around us—California born and bred, none of us can ever remember walking through a forest before. It is quiet except for the sounds of insects, keeping Devon ever-watchful.

After leaving Monticello, we stop for lunch at the Michie Tavern, which dates from 1784. A tour takes us through the men's and ladies' parlors and into the ballroom, where everyone is expected to take part in an 18th-century dance. I wonder if Brent (17) and Blake (15) will ever forgive us for making them promenade together—the looks on their faces got the biggest laugh of the tour.

Next, on to Ash Lawn-Highland, James Monroe's home, a modest house filled with furniture he brought back from France. It's a nice house, but lacking the genius and personality that made Jefferson's home (just three miles away over the fields) so fascinating. We don't really sense Monroe here as we did Jefferson at Monticello. But they were friends and neighbors, so of course my characters would visit both—I jot down a few more notes and buy a few more books.

At the end of a long day, we head to the University of Virginia and stop at a shop to buy Blake, our lacrosse player, a T-shirt proclaiming their team the national champions. The rotunda designed by Jefferson is closed for a private function, but we admire the outside and snap a few photos of Blake on the steps as he dreams of being good enough to play for the university someday.

Devon's bug sightings

Numerous huge black ants, butterflies and moths, spiders in Jefferson's summerhouse, big green beetle at Michie Tavern, small lizard at Monroe's house (yes, I know a lizard is not actually a bug).

Sunday, July 27

We hit the road early in the morning, and after a quick stop at a B&N in Manassas to sign books, we head to the battlefield. A very enthusiastic ranger gives us a tour, telling us all about the first battle of the Civil War, called Manassas by the Confederacy and Bull Run by the Union side. He tells the story in half an hour, barely taking a breath in all that time. The visitor center offers a 45-minute film, but this is much more interesting, treading the same fields where the battle took place 142 years ago this week, feeling the same muggy heat, gazing toward the line of trees where soldiers hid.

On to Mount Vernon, George Washington's home. The day has turned almost unbearably hot and close. The house is the largest we've seen in Virginia, with numerous bedrooms and formal rooms, the walls painted in deep greens and turquoises and filled with delicate carved furniture. Instead of a guided tour, however, we shuffle in a slow line through the various rooms, the experience less than pleasant due to the heat, a screaming baby right behind us, and a woman in front of us explaining every little thing to her two children as though they were blind imbeciles. Relieved to escape, we wander the acres of grounds in the sweltering heat, exploring outbuildings, stables—which Brent, who prefers computers to creatures, notes still smells like horses two hundred years later—wooded paths, Washington's original tomb and the fancy one he was moved to forty years later. We finally end up at the wharf on the Potomac, then are happy to find an air-conditioned shuttle bus to take us uphill the mile or so back to the entrance.

From here we leave for the long drive to Philadelphia. As the hours pass and we get closer, the forests disappear, and the landscape gets more scrubby. Cars abandoned on the side of the road all have their windows smashed…What is this? A local sport? We've never seen anything like it.

Due to a terrible accident on the I-95, the drive to Philadelphia seems interminable (but at least we are cool). After checking into our hotel, we take a short walk to dinner, finding the city more pretty and pleasant than we expected (especially considering all the vandalized cars on the nearby roads!).

Back at the hotel, we notice a flash and rush out onto our balcony to watch lighting and listen to thunder—a rare occurrence in Southern California. Suddenly, in the distance, the Museum of Art building seems to disappear, shrouded in the haze of a rainstorm. We watch as the storm progresses down the street, heading straight toward us while lightning flashes and thunder rumbles all around. The rain gets closer, then suddenly it is upon us, pouring down, blowing in and forcing us farther back onto the balcony. Two minutes later it is over, the rain hushed to a soft patter, the thunder and lightning receding behind us. Five minutes later even that is gone—it's as though the storm never happened. An exciting end to an interesting day.

Devon's bug sightings

Countless unidentified insects splattered on the windshield, a huge buzzing black wasp.

Monday, July 28

We take the Philly Phlash bus to the historic district and start at the Visitor's Center. We're surprised to learn this area in the middle of the city has been designated a National Park. A very knowledgeable ranger takes us on a free one-hour walking tour and explains the process that led to the Revolution and formation of our new country. On the tour, we explore the ruins of Benjamin Franklin's house in Franklin Court, head to Carpenter's Court where the first Continental Congress was held, then over to Independence Hall, which we learn was actually the State House and first called Independence Hall by Lafayette when he returned ten years after the Revolutionary War.

After the walking tour, we head over to Graff House, where Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence. It's a reproduction, but we're able to see recreations of Jefferson's two rooms and imagine him penning the great document.

We walk over to see the Liberty Bell and tour Independence Hall, where another ranger explains where each of the states' delegates sat as they picked apart Jefferson's declaration and debated it line by line, then later went through the same process to write the Constitution.

Wonderful stuff, legendary and inspiring…Philadelphia goes on my list of places to set a book someday, too. And more research books get purchased.

We walk to the City Tavern for a late lunch and are seated in a reproduction of the ballroom where George Washington's inaugural ball was held. The 18^th century menu is fun, and our waiter, dressed in period clothing, explains the importance of the tavern in early American society. After lunch, we go back to Franklin Court to see the Franklin Post office, print shop, and Benjamin Franklin's tenant houses, then to Christ Church burial ground to view Franklin's grave.

During the long drive to Boston this evening, we talk about our impressions of Philadelphia. We are all surprised by how much we liked the city and its eclectic mix of old and new. Everyone there seemed rightly proud of their city's contributions to the formation of our great country and Pennsylvania's long history of religious freedom. But it was a bit disconcerting to find so many of the old buildings long gone (Benjamin Franklin's house) or reproductions rather than the original structures (Graff house, the City Tavern, and others). Most of these buildings were torn down in the 1800s…did people not know by then that the men who lived, worked, and played in them were national heroes? Did they not realize that we of later generations would want to see them? A shame these national treasures are gone, but we applaud the current residents of Philadelphia for recreating them the best they can and thereby allowing us to walk in our founding fathers' footsteps.

Devon's bug report

Butterfly with a broken wing, giant cockroach.

Tuesday, July 29

From our hotel near the airport, we ride the subway to Boston Common to walk the Freedom Trail, a path through the city marked by a red line (sometimes brick, sometimes paint). Among other historic sights, we take in a graveyard where Samuel Adams and other patriots are buried, and Fanieul Hall—where the town hall meeting was held that led to the Boston Tea Party. We lunch at the Green Dragon tavern, a replica of the place where patriots plotted…the waitress is a bit surly, but the lobster is delicious. We tour Paul Revere's house—the real thing, not a replica, and it's small, especially considering he had 18 children! The story of his life is interesting—there is much more to it than just the famous midnight ride—and one incident in particular sparks another idea for my early American novel. Or maybe a young adult book…hmm…there are so many possibilities! In any case, there is no doubt I need to buy more research books here.

After traipsing over a long, extremely high bridge (me trembling all the way, since I've a morbid fear of heights) to see the U.S.S. Constitution, we find it closed half an hour before. There is no subway station nearby, and our feet are giving out after walking all day (and I don't want to go back over the bridge), so we opt for a ferry back to civilization and a well-earned rest.

Devon's bug report

Fat yellow and black striped UFI (Unidentified Flying Insect).

Wednesday, July 30

We drive to Salem this morning and search in vain for witches. I don't know what we expected to see…perhaps a quaint village green with stocks and a pillory in the center? Something old but charming. Instead we find the area sort of depressing, with lots of rickety, weather-worn wooden houses and tourist-trappish museums. After reading all of the museum descriptions (the Wax Museum, the Witch Dungeon Museum, the Salem Witch Village—where you can buy a hysteria pass—and more), we can't bring ourselves to go into any, so we just visit the old burying ground and the little memorial garden where all the witch scare victims' names are engraved into stone benches. It is quiet here, and sobering. We buy a campy witch mug and a fat, informative-looking book about the witch trials that we figure will be more enlightening than any of the museums. Blake accuses several residents of being witches (She's a witch! Burrrrn her!), but they all survive, and eventually we drive on to Lexington.

Lexington—where the first shot of the Revolutionary War was fired—is much more to our liking: a pretty, family sort of town where we can imagine living (if it didn't snow there, that is!). After a quick stop for lunch, we walk to the Visitor's Center and battlefield. I wander the shop and choose a few books while Jack studies the battle diorama for an eternity. Then he walks us around the field, pointing out where everything happened as though we might remember it an hour from now.

The drive to Concord is through pretty countryside, and Concord is a lovely town, too. We take the trail from the Visitor's Center to Minuteman National Historical Park and the Old North Bridge, where the shot heard 'round the world was fired and the British took the first casualties of the war. The land all around is still mostly undeveloped, and we can imagine the line of British crossing the bridge and the Americans waiting to ambush them.

A few miles distant is Walden Pond, and we decide to drive over and see what it is about this place that sparked such a furor to save it.

My Expectations: Imagining Thoreau walking Walden Pond's shores and finding inspiration, I think it must be one of the most gorgeous places on Earth, a perfect retreat for a writer.

The Reality: It's pretty, but not gorgeous—no Lake Tahoe, this pond. And—surprise!—the place is teeming with noisy sunbathers…it's a beach! A beach where children build castles out of dirt, not sand. Not exactly a place for quiet contemplation.

So…it's nice, but frankly (and I hope no one will take offense here), we'll save our charity dollars for different causes. I wish the people of Massachusetts much enjoyment of their pond, however.

Devon's bug report

Ant battle and dragonfly near the Old North Bridge, unbelievably huge ant near Walden Pond.

Thursday, July 31

We must vacate our Boston hotel room by noon, so we rise early to take the subway into town and then the ferry to the U.S.S. Constitution, which we missed touring the other day. We arrive before the ship's opening and have a lovely conversation with the young Navy woman who will lead our tour. She's very proud to be posted to the oldest commissioned sailing vessel in the world, and the tour is fascinating. As we learn the ship's history from its beginnings in 1797 to present day, we can all too easily imagine ourselves as part of the crew: eating salt beef and hard tack (after pulling out the weevils), and firing the ship's big guns, the blast leaving our ears bleeding and the smoke so thick we can barely make out our hands in front of our faces.

After the tour, we hurry back to the hotel to check out and pack up the car, then head to Plymouth, where the Pilgrims landed. Plymouth Rock is situated down in a pit so that tourists cannot chip off souvenirs as has happened in years past. The boulder is smaller than we expected, partially the result of the vandalism, but also because it broke several times as it was moved over the years. It hardly seems worth snapping pictures, but we do anyway, of course.

This seems to be our day for touring ships, as our next stop is the Mayflower II. The reproduction seems very true to life, and the costumed crew does a good job of explaining the conditions during the famous crossing. Although it couldn't have been comfortable, we're surprised to find the journey doesn't sound quite as awful as we'd imagined.

We stop for dinner in Connecticut and arrive late in New York City as rain begins falling. Rain, rain, and more rain.

Devon's bug report

Flies, lots of flies. Especially while having lunch by Cape Cod bay.

Friday, August 1

Our hotel is only a block from Ground Zero, so we walk over first thing in the morning, falling sober and silent as we join the many other people taking in the scene of devastation. Somehow it seems more real than just seeing it on TV. Our melancholy mood lingers as we walk to the Stock Exchange, only to find it's been closed to the public since 9/11. Nearby, Trinity Church is peaceful and beautiful inside. We're feeling better as we come out. We make a quick stop at a Borders Books to sign my books they have in stock, then head to Battery Park to buy ferry tickets.

The line for the ferry stretches forever, but we're entertained by strolling musicians and acrobats. Finally we're ushered into a tent to go through security checks, then into another tent to wait for the ferry. It's sweltering, and the wait seems interminable before we board. The first stop is Liberty Island, but the Statue of Liberty has also been closed since 9/11, so we snap photos but don't leave the boat.

Next stop is Ellis Island, where the museum is blissfully air-conditioned. We rent CD players and headphones for the audio tour, and we're all riveted as we walk through the exhibits. Jack's family has been here in North America since the 1700s, but my family, both sides, immigrated during the peak years mostly covered by the recorded tour. The voices on the tape remind me of my great-grandparents, their never-quite-lost accents resonating Old Country tones. I've never considered writing an Ellis Island book before, but there are stories here begging to be told.

By the time we exit the museum it is pouring rain. We buy silly screaming-yellow Ellis Island plastic ponchos and climb aboard the ferry to find other passengers wearing white ponchos with little green Statues of Liberty printed all over them. We can't decide which is cheesier, but they do keep us relatively dry as we make the crossing and then walk back to our hotel.

We fear we may end up hotel-bound for the evening, but the rain finally slows and we decide to venture out once again. We ride the subway to St. Patrick's Cathedral, only to find it closed—is this a theme, or what? But all is not lost, as my favorite NYC restaurant is nearby, a little place called La Bonne Soupe. Tonight's our wedding anniversary, so we celebrate with the kids, feasting on salad and thick soup, crusty bread, wine, and luscious chocolate fondue to finish up.

Our path home from the subway station takes us back through the Ground Zero zone, alone in the dark this time. Well, almost alone. Down deep in the earth, men and machines are busy rebuilding. Sound echoes up, and light glows from within. It's hopeful somehow—from the devastation, new buildings will rise again, probably better than ever. The bastards will not prevail.

Devon's bug report

None. Bugs apparently hide during the rain.

Brent's rant on the New York subways (from his LiveJournal)

The NY subway was one of the most unpleasant things I've ever experienced.

You walk into a station, and the first thing that hits you is a blast of hot, smelly air. I can't quite identify the smell, but it's not exactly the nicest thing you've ever smelled. Based on the air, I'm fairly certain that the New York subway is situated directly over Hell.

Then you buy (or at least we bought) day passes. However, as an idiotic anti-fraud measure, the machine doesn't let you put more than two on a credit card, so you end up feeding wads of cash to the machine.

Then you put your pass through the machine and go to the platform. This usually involves walking down one or more flights of stairs, and the deeper you get, the hotter it is. If you don't put on about three coats of deodorant before doing this, you probably won't be able to wash the stink out for a week. They air-condition the trains—why not the stations?

Then you check the map and work out how to get to where you want to go. The NY subway system was built over time, and it shows—the only other way you could get such a crazy system was if it was designed by a group of monkeys on crack throwing pasta at the wall. Some lines split off into a half-dozen branches; others follow crazy paths, dodging back and forth or doubling back on themselves. Most other subway systems have simplified maps which don't reflect the exact geometry of the system, instead using straight lines and (as much as possible) a regular distance between the stations, allowing you to more easily work out how to get from one stop to another; I doubt it's possible to make one for the New York subway.

There are also normal trains, which stop everywhere, and express trains, which skip perhaps two-thirds of the stops; the normal trains are too slow, and the express trains are liable to skip the stop you need. All of this adds up to make it nearly impossible to navigate.

Assuming you can somehow figure out how you're going to get to the station you want to get to, you now get on a train. Hopefully you get on the right train, since you have to worry about express vs. normal, the correct line on junctions and parallel lines, the right direction (which isn't particularly clearly marked, IIRC), and a bunch of other stuff.

The trains are air conditioned, which is nice. However, they also don't have much seating, especially compared to other subway systems I've been on. This is…not nice. It's also one of the noisiest subway systems I've been on—plenty of ear-shattering screeches and scrapes.

So, you ride to your stop, hopefully not missing it. Then you leave the train, dash through the Hell-heated air, and try to get out before you collapse.

Give me the London Underground or the DC Metro any day. Just please please please not the NY subway.

Saturday, August 2

This morning we take the subway to the Empire State Building and, like the silly tourists we are, wait in the endless lines to ride to the top. Devon is amused to see people whose entire jobs consist of herding people onto elevators. She says that if she fails to publish a book, perhaps she'll be an elevator herder instead.

It's hazy today, but the view is still spectacular. After looking our fill, we ride the elevators back down and then stroll seventeen (yes, 17!) blocks down ritzy Fifth Avenue to St. Patrick's Cathedral, which is open this time. It's gothic and gorgeous, and we enjoy sitting quietly for a few minutes and soaking in the peaceful beauty. But it's some 500 years newer than the European cathedrals it's built to emulate, and we decide it seems somehow like a Disneyland cathedral, just a little too clean and perfect.

After a quick stop at the Fifth Avenue Barnes & Noble to sign books, we walk to the Plaza Hotel, where, while we gawk at the familiar opulence, we challenge ourselves to name all the movies we've seen that have used it as a setting. By the time we emerge and walk into and across Central Park, our feet are paying the price for our day-long amble, and we are happy to get on the subway, hot and crowded as it is.

After a short rest at our hotel, we venture back to the subway again, this time to meet my cousin Wendi at her apartment in Greenwich Village for dinner. We're a party of nine including her significant other and his two nieces, but a long table awaits us at a great Italian restaurant that's been in business here since 1908. The food and wine are great, the company even better.

Afterward, regardless of our complaining feet, the dinner begs to be walked off, so we stroll around the Village. The kids enjoy the funky atmosphere, and I'm interested in the architecture, especially all the brownstones. Jack, who is allergic to shopping, allows Brent five minutes in a comic book shop and Devon three minutes to try on sunglasses, but he balks when I want to go into some of the many used record shops. Perhaps that is because he knows I'd be tempted to spend hours…

We end our walk at Veniero's, a bakery even older than the restaurant, established in 1894. The endless cases full of pastries are worth gawking at. At little marble tables we down cheesecake and gelato, tartufo and Grand Marnier cake—yum! The fact that we're not hungry doesn't matter in the least.

More walking—back to my cousin's apartment to enjoy the night view from her balcony, back to the subway, home from the subway—we are tired of walking!

Devon's bug report

Dead dragonfly, gi-normous cockroach.

Sunday, August 3

Devon's Travelogue (since Mom is sick of writing)

Best day of the trip: sleep-in-and-sit-in-the-car-for-four-hours-day! Am forced to once again sit next to more annoying of two brothers, where left arm quickly becomes sore from playing the "out-of-state license plate" game (where he punches me every time he sees one). Subsequent to exceedingly fun car ride, parents heinously refuse to eat at Boston Market, my first-choice restaurant, opting instead for another trip to Friendly's, a chain restaurant which is conspicuously unfriendly.

In the afternoon, a summer storm mercifully cools the temperature from broil to bake. Hotel in Washington DC is unremarkable (most notable for fact that Eight-Legged Freaks is on TV), so we progress immediately to Georgetown for dinner, where father goes around same traffic circle approximately 8 times before finding the right way. In Georgetown there are lots of cool old buildings and shops (!!!), but there are also spiders, so I make sure duration of stay is not too long. Only day of trip where mother didn't force us to learn anything (yes!).

Bug report

Did I mention the spiders in Georgetown? A little pedestrian bridge's rails were covered in webs that fascinated my brothers, but the webs all had big, ugly spiders that freaked me out!

Monday, August 4

Today has been designated Smithsonian Day, so we take the subway to the Mall and start out at the Air and Space Museum. We're especially fascinated by the space capsules and can hardly imagine living in such confined spaces for so long. We walk through Skylab and find it a little better…Devon and I wonder why our showers don't blow us dry like the one in the space station—that sounds like a great idea!

After lunch in the museum café, we walk over to the Natural History Museum, where our favorite exhibits are the dinosaurs, gems and minerals (although we don't find the Hope Diamond to be worth all the hype!), and the live insect zoo, which does an excellent job of grossing us out. After viewing the giant, hairy Mexican spiders, Devon declares she will never go to Mexico again.

We'd planned to visit the presidential monuments this evening, but our feet say no. Instead, we have dinner at Luigi's—a restaurant my father has fond memories of since visiting as a family when I was, oh, about 9 years old. Ever since we began planning this trip, he's reminded me on at least a weekly basis to go to Luigi's…so we did, Dad. And enjoyed the pizza and pasta very much, thank you, although the Lobster Thermidor you remembered seems to have been taken off the menu.

Devon's bug report

Helloooo…the live bug museum? Shivers of horror.

Tuesday, August 5

We have a tour of the Capitol booked today, so we rise earlier than we'd like and take the subway to the offices of our congressman, Christopher Cox. A young, charming intern named Marissa takes us on the tour and does a wonderful job of explaining everything. The rotunda is impossibly tall and breathtakingly beautiful, and we love sitting in the House of Representatives gallery and seeing where the arguments are argued and the President gives his State of the Union addresses. Marissa explains that although there is no assigned seating, the Democrats sit on the left and the Republicans on the right, hence left wing and right wing. I ask where an elected Libertarian would sit, and she admits she doesn't know. Hmmph.

Afterward, I ask why the Senate Chamber isn't included on the tour, and Marissa says if we accompany her back to the offices, she can give us passes. We ride the same underground tramway the congressmen take, and a few minutes later we walk back with five orange passes in hand…only to be told the Senate Chambers are closed. This really is becoming a theme.

We didn't come anywhere near to seeing all of the Smithsonian buildings yesterday, so we decide to skip the ones dedicated to art (we have fabulous art museums near home, including the Getty) and head for the American History building. Brent loves the Information Age exhibit, Devon loves seeing the First Ladies' gowns, and Blake loves the military exhibits with all the weapons. My favorite exhibit is the one about all the Presidents. Jack's favorite thing is sitting down while the rest of us visit the gift shop. Okay, maybe that's his second-favorite thing. He also really enjoys the Information Age exhibit, since he's been involved with computers since the dawn of time. He impresses Brent by remembering how to boot up an ancient PDP-8. After looking over all of the historic computers, monitors, modems, and outdated manuals—and exclaiming We have one of these! and We have one of those!—we decide we can open our own Information Age museum with the stuff in our garage.

After dinner, we think a nice stroll to visit the memorials will be just the thing. Although most all the other buildings close at 5:00 pm, the memorials are lit and open 24 hours a day.

Walking from the subway to the Lincoln Memorial—the first stop on our route—we hear a rumble of thunder. It begins raining. Lightning flashes. It begins pouring. We're halfway to the memorial, so it makes as much sense to continue on as to turn back…except the memorial is huge and therefore turns out to be much farther away than it seems. The trodden dirt path by the reflecting pool becomes muddy, and the wind blows, rendering our umbrellas all but useless. But it's still warm and an adventure, so we laugh and keep going. And going. By the time we make it to the memorial, we are totally soaked through.

The imposing marble building is crammed with people sheltering from the storm. Even though signs exhort us all to be quiet and respectful, the crowd chatters excitedly over the crashing thunder. We take a few minutes to look at Abraham Lincoln and read his words, but the storm beckons. As it grows even wilder, everyone faces forward, our backs to poor Honest Abe as we all marvel at nature's show. Impossibly tall and majestic, his marble image watches solemnly. Children, including ours, gleefully run out onto the marble steps and dance around in the rain.

At long last the thunder grows fainter, and the rain decreases to a steadier beat. We head out again, slogging the muddy path to the subway station. Four miles, we figure, round trip in soggy shoes. By the time we get back to where we started, the rain has slowed to a soft trickle, but we're exhausted. Our visit to see Mr. Jefferson's memorial will have to wait for another night.

Devon's bug report

Dead crawly thing in Lincoln Memorial, fireflies (fun!) among the trees along the reflecting pool.

Wednesday, August 6

Following last night's wet outing, we decide to take it easy this morning and sleep in a little, then head for the White House Visitor Center. The house itself has been closed since 9/11, but in the Center we watch a film about its history, listen to a park ranger lecture about all the presidential assassinations (both attempted and successful), and see some of the historic furniture and decorative items. Then we walk a few blocks to stand in front of the house and take photos.

We'd planned to visit Ford's Theatre next, the site of Lincoln's assassination, but it turns out to be closed. So is the house across the street where he died. We walk instead to the National Archives to see the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and other historic documents…but it is closed.

Perhaps we should have chosen another summer for our visit?

We are gratified to find the Library of Congress is actually open, but by the time we watch a film and view the reading rooms, Gutenberg Bible, and American treasures like early maps, manuscripts, film from the 1800s, and the contents of Abraham Lincoln's pockets on the night he died, it is five o'clock. We return downstairs to find the gift shop is—you guessed it—closed.

Normally we wouldn't mind missing a gift shop—we didn't travel all this way to shop—but this is the Library of Congress, after all. Through the shop's windows I glimpse mugs and shirts and other things all decorated with colorful pictures of books. Must have items, for a book lover such as I. We'll have to return in the morning.

It's raining again, but it's our last night in D.C., so after dinner we decide to drive to the remaining memorials instead of walking.

Devastating in its simplicity, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial renders us mute as we walk beside the long wall, peering at the 58,000-plus names through the drizzle. As a teen, I wore a POW/MIA bracelet for a number of years, but I never learned what became of the man whose name encircled my wrist. Though I haven't seen the bracelet for a decade or more, I still remember the name: Captain Thomas Kilcullen. I look him up in the fat book and learn he died in 1968, long before I even began wearing the bracelet. How strange to find myself saddened at the years-ago death of a man I never knew.

The walk from the parking lot to the Jefferson Memorial is long but pleasant in the soft rain. For some reason, we find this memorial more enthralling than Lincoln's. Perhaps it is only that there's no lightning and thunder to compete, but as we read Jefferson's words, inscribed overhead all around, we are awed by the man's brilliance. I do believe the memorials are most powerful in the night, lighting up the darkness as the men they are honoring lit up the world.

Devon's bug report

Tons of spiders in the Jefferson Memorial. Never mind that nobody else seemed to see them. They were there.

Thursday, August 7

We've booked a tour of the Washington Monument this morning, so we drag ourselves out of bed early and take the subway to wait in line. At 555 feet, it's the tallest structure in D.C., and the elevator ride to the top takes 70 seconds—a lot shorter than climbing. I ask when the elevator was installed and am surprised to learn there have been elevators since the memorial opened in 1888—but the first one was a steam elevator and took 12 minutes to reach the top! It's another rainy day, so the view is hazy, but we still spend time gawking through the windows on all four sides. It's a nice view, but this tall monument affords us little insight into George Washington the man. We all agree that we prefer the memorials that have images of the great men surrounded by the words they left for us to remember them by.

We make a quick run to the Library of Congress gift shop to pick up those book-related items before heading back to our car to drive to Richmond.

Our hotel room in Richmond is a pretty suite with period furniture, but it only sleeps four, and the manager can't find the rollaway bed we requested when we made our reservation. While she looks, we walk across the street to the State Capitol building, which was designed by our now-favorite President, Thomas Jefferson. It's supposed to be open until 5:00 pm, but we arrive at 4:50 to find it closed. We walk back to the hotel to learn the rollaway bed was mistakenly given to another party.

Our luck continues.

Devon's bug report

It was raining…a few windshield casualties only.

Blake's solution: The Creation (written by Blake)

Six chairs. One bench. One dream. THE CREATION.

Lacking enough beds for everyone, a creative idea was born in my head. I looked around the room in Richmond, Virginia, and scouted all possible sleeping surfaces. No luck in finding a single item that would work. So, it was time to get CREATIVE…

First, I needed a plan. Build me a bed out of all that I can find, and I will sleep in it. I could see the crazed expressions when I started moving furniture about the room. A padded bench at the foot of the parents' bed, the four armless chairs around the dining table, the two armchairs facing the TV; these were the supplies I could muster.

Quickly, ideas on how to fit the pieces together filled my head. Yes, use the bench in the center for a base, I thought. OK, now I needed to extend the length, since the bench was too short. I decided to put the two armchairs at the ends. Then, to finish this CREATION, I put the four armless chairs about the sides of the bench to make the width larger.

I stood back, laughing at my genius, shouting, It's alive! It's alive! My Creation! They looked at me as if I had gone crazy…and well, maybe I had. Besides, I've always wanted to go into a padded cell; it'd be cool, running into the walls. But, to get back on subject, my work was not finished. THE CREATION deserved to be garbed in only the finest silk sheets. However, we didn't have any, so I opted for the extra cotton bed sheets in the closet. And after all that hard work, MY CREATION WAS COMPLETE! Muhahahahahahaha!

Friday, August 8

This whole trip, I've been looking forward to taking the kids to see Williamsburg, one of my favorite places. The colonial capital of Virginia, it's been faithfully restored and boasts 88 original buildings from the 18^th century, plus scores of exact replicas. Upon arriving, we buy two-day tickets, then watch a historical movie depicting one man's experiences in the House of Burgesses and his gradual commitment to the cause of American freedom. Next, a friendly, costumed young man takes us on an introductory walking tour, and then we're on our own.

Naturally, the first thing the kids want to do is have lunch. We peruse the various menus from the historic taverns, and Devon decides she must have fried chicken. So off we go to Christina Campbell's Tavern at the edge of town, about as far a walk as possible.

After fifteen days of walking, our feet are not thanking Devon.

The lunch is delightful, though, the tavern full of 18^th century ambiance. Afterward, since we're already at the edge of town, we decide to explore that area first and work our way back to the village green. John Rockefeller financed Williamsburg's restoration, and his summer home is here—a charming 2-bedroom house full of art and antiques, surrounded by lovely gardens. It is beginning to rain as we leave, so we hurry to another building—an 18^th century merchant's house—where we can tour the inside. When we come out, it is raining harder, so we run to the nearby Capitol Building. Here we tour the courtroom and then see where the Burgesses met and the rooms where Virginia's governors did their business (English governors before the war, and Americans—including Patrick Henry and Thomas Jefferson—after). Our tour finished, we go outside to find lighting flashing and thunder roaring—and the rain coming down so hard the streets are now deserted, everyone staying under cover. We join in, huddling on the crowded porch for half an hour or so, until the rain subsides enough to venture out with our umbrellas. After we watch a parade, we find everything is closed except for a few shops. When they close, too, we head for home (with a bunch of books, of course!). With any luck, it won't rain tomorrow.

Devon's bug report

Rain saves the day again.

Saturday, August 9

Why should we have luck starting now? It rains all the way from Richmond to Williamsburg, and it's still raining when we arrive. We first duck into the Governor's Palace, mainly because it's the closest historic building to the entrance. The mansion is dry and warm, elegant and imposing, filled with 18th century furniture, weaponry, and art. We come out to find the rain is now pounding down in sheets.

We've never seen it rain so hard…not even that night in Philadelphia or the evening we walked to the Lincoln Memorial. The tour guides won't allow us through the exit back into the Governor's Palace, so we head across the square to a house with a beckoning porch, which unfortunately is already crammed with sheltering people. Umbrellas notwithstanding, we're completely soaked by the time we push our way up the steps to join the crowd and stand there, everyone shivering in unison. It's a good half hour before the rain relents enough for anyone to budge.

But after that, the sun comes out, and the rest of the day is beautiful. Lucky at last! We tour many houses that belonged to people from all walks of society, listening to their stories and imagining how they lived. We visit a dozen or more 18th century businesses—a silversmith, an apothecary, a blacksmith, a shoemaker, a wigmaker, a dressmaker—and learn all about the different trades of the era. At the Magazine, two militiamen tell stories of the military life in times past. We visit the College of William and Mary so I can see the building designed by Christopher Wren, and I sign books in the college's bookstore. After dinner in Chowning's Tavern with sing-along entertainment, we set off on an evening Ghost Tour, where our guide takes us into several houses to hear eerie tales. A fun end to an exhausting vacation!

Devon's bug report

Mosquitos during the Ghost Tour. Too scared by ghosts to be annoyed by them, though.

Brent's impressions of Williamsburg, from his LiveJournal

My two days in Richmond were actually spent an hour away, in Williamsburg. Williamsburg was the second capital of Virginia during much of the colonial period and the first few years of the Revolutionary War. Thomas Jefferson decided in 1780 that the city was too close to the coast to defend from the world's most powerful navy, so he moved the capital to Richmond, which is further inland.

The interesting thing in Williamsburg is what they call the historical area. It's a half-mile-square patch of the city that's been restored to its appearance in 1774; the area includes both the old capitol building and the governor's house. They're very careful about making things authentic—if they don't know what a building looked like, they don't try to build it. Eighty-eight buildings are original, and the others (which I believe number in the hundreds, but I don't have an exact count) are on the original foundations. If they don't know what a building's exterior was like, they don't build it; if they don't know what the interior was like, they use it for office space or some other park-related function instead of having it open to the public.

They, of course, have employees scattered about. Some of them are interpreters, people dressed in period clothing who give tours, answer questions, etc; others are characters, who play a specific, named person from the period (like Thomas Jefferson), and who are virtually impossible to break out of character. (The one playing Jefferson was giving a speech when a train passed by in the background; he merely remarked that Patrick Henry, who was known to be a loud orator, must have started speaking on the other side of town. At another point, a woman playing a legislator's wife overheard a comment about a movie; when she asked about it and was told that a movie was a moving picture, she said that the man could move the pictures around if he wanted to, but she really didn't see the point in it.) All are quite knowledgeable; my mother wants to write a book in that period eventually, and she noted that she'd like to stay there for a week or so to talk to the employees in-depth.

Sunday, August 10

A plane ride. Then another plane ride. Enough said. A wonderful trip, but our feet are very glad to be home.

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