They must have been a lot tougher than we were.
During the rest of our two-and-a-half hour drive home we chatted about how much we loved the North Shore.
“It's my favorite place in the world,” I said.
Everyone agreed, a true milestone in our family. Consensus had rarely ever happened and it hasn't happened since.
The four girls wanted to return to Lake Superior the next summer. Paul and I did, too.
“We should make it our end of the summer place every year,” Anne said.
“Good idea,” I said.
I pushed up Colleen's glasses as we walked through the door of our house.
“I love our house,” Colleen said.
“I do too.” I looked around at my real favorite place in the world. Home Sweet Home.
Eleven
Washington, Jefferson, and Lincoln, Oh My
Children need space as they learn about history.
We spent another two winters bundled up under afghans planning what we would do in the summer of 1992. Since we had had so much fun in Canada and the North Shore, we discussed whether we should go back for a week. I brought up the Grand Canyon a couple of times but it didn't illicit much interest from Paul or the girls.
Paul's idea was that we should fly wherever we went and then rent a car. After many discussions, we finally settled on Washington D. C., home of the Smithsonian museums. I blissfully thought about all the museums we would stroll merrily through. I was sure the girls would learn to love them as much as I did. We would bond in our mutual museum interests and talk about what we had seen for years to come.
“Are we going way up in the air?” Six-year-old Colleen asked.
“Just for a short time. Then we'll be in Washington D. C.” It never ceased to amaze me that one gets onto a plane and then a few hours later lands in a totally different place.
“How do the planes stay up?” Nine-year-old Erin asked.
“Well, they have wings that help them. The pilot gets the speed up on the runway and we're lifted up.” As I was talking and trying to reassure Colleen and Erin that indeed planes do stay up in the air, I realized that I knew little about the dynamics of flying or anything else to do with planes. Really, how did they stay up in the air? I'd have to ask Paul later.
Yellowstone, seven years earlier, had been our last long driving trip. Now that our girls were older, it should be that much easier. Since we had learned so much about traveling with children and how to keep the peace, we didn't hesitate to mark off two weeks on our calendar. I happily told everyone I met about our upcoming trip.
I was sure the mother who kept shuddering, as she recounted their family vacation with two teenagers, was exaggerating. Others said they would never travel with teenagers again.
“The best thing about our vacation was when we got home,” one mother stated.
“That was the only good thing about ours,” another mother agreed.
I turned my ears off as the two mothers tried to top each other with vacation horror stories. How could it be any harder traveling with three adolescents and a six-year-old than traveling with toddlers and preschoolers?
We arrived in Washington Dulles Airport on an August afternoon ready to take the city by storm. We didn't need a car while we were in Washington, D. C., so we took a cab to the Embassy Suites hotel.
After dropping off our luggage and eating a light supper, we took a night tour of the city. We had already seen the Jefferson Memorial, the Capital, and the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts when the bus pulled up to the Lincoln Memorial. Darkness was all around while Lincoln was illuminated in his chair. Nighttime made it especially memorable and majestic.
“Do you realize we're standing at the Lincoln Memorial?” I tried to sound the perfect combination of interesting and informative.
“Yes, Mom.”
“Do you realize that he grew up in a log cabin?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“He never thought he'd be president someday.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“He's my favorite president.”
“We know, Mom.”
“Well, maybe one of you will be the first female president.”
“God help us all,” Paul said.
The next morning we went to the National Museum of American History. We watched as a huge flag was raised to patriotic music. The flag was kept in a controlled environment most of the time to protect the cloth.
“They wrote 'The Star Spangled Banner' about that flag,” I said. The immense flag filled a whole wall.
“Even though it's all ripped up?” Clare said. A tape played, giving the history of the flag. We learned that the lower eight feet of the flag had been cut off and given away as souvenirs.
“It didn't start out like that.”
“I don't like the paint all over it,” Erin said. There was a large white stain on the flag. Perfectionist Erin thought they should have thrown the flag away. “And what's that red V for?”
“We'll have to find out about the white stain,” Paul said.
“As you can see there is a large white stain on the flag,” the tape intoned. “One of the stars was cut out for a souvenir. The red upside down A, we think, stands for the Armistead family, who donated the flag to the nation.”
We finished touring the American History Museum and then went next door to the National Archives building. When we walked up the huge steps, I felt as if I was walking on air. I stopped in front of the gigantic doorway for a few seconds. The sheer size of the doorway dwarfed me as I passed beneath them.
Standing in line, we waited to get a glimpse of the Declaration of Independence. Kept in an environmentally controlled box, it was lowered at night to protect the paper from disintegration.
“C'mon, girls, it's the Declaration of Independence,” I said. “Can you believe it?”
Paul went first, followed by the four girls, and then me. I was so thrilled when it was my turn that I felt almost a reverence. This was the beginning of our country. We had studied the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution in school from a young age. I remember my teachers saying, “Our forefathers were very farseeing. They set up a government that would last.” I could have gawked all day but there were people lined up behind me.
My girls waited by a glass case with another document in it. Since the line was smaller, I soon saw the reproduction of the Magna Carta. The ornate handwriting crowded the page with swirly letters. I imagined a person hunched over a paper writing with a quill pen.
“What was that document?” Anne asked.
“A copy of a very famous document called the Magna Carta.”
“When was it written?”
“In the thirteenth century.”
“We weren't here yet.”
“It was written in England to try to limit the king's power.” I was just getting revved up to talk about the importance of farseeing men in history and how much we should appreciate them.
“Okay,” Anne said. She turned and walked out of those magnificent front doors.
I wanted to say “Wait, I wasn't done yet . . .” but she was gone. I wanted to tell her that it had set up our Constitution because no one was above the law. But Anne was out of sight. I looked around for the rest of the family. No luck. I peered out the front door and there they were.
“Well, did you like it?”
“It was okay,” Clare said.
“Just okay?”
“I liked it okay.”
I questioned no further. It was better that way. We took a break for lunch before going to the Natural History Museum. I knew within a few minutes of walking into the museum that this was a place where I could spend many happy days. Erin circled the huge elephant in the rotunda with a mammoth grin on her face. It was her favorite animal. She circled the elephant for a second time stopping in front of the ample trunk.
“Where's the Hope Diamond?” Anne asked every time we even slowed down in an exhibit. She wanted to make a b
ee-line for it.
We strolled around the exhibits, enjoying the different cultures, the dinosaurs, prehistoric times, mammals, shark's teeth and jaws.
“Look, Colleen, it's Megamouth. Even a Great White Shark could fit into its mouth,” Clare said. She pointed to the wall where the jaws of sharks hung.
“I like the teeth.” Colleen said.
“Not if they bit you, you wouldn't,” Erin said.
“Where's the Hope Diamond?” Anne asked. We went through the display of insects.
“Look at that beetle,” Erin exclaimed, pointing at a rhinoceros beetle.
Colleen was intent on the butterfly display. “Do you think it hurts when the pin goes through their head.”
“They're already dead, Colleen,” Clare explained.
“Just think, they killed them just so they could pin them to a board,” Erin had walked over to look.
“Where's the Hope Diamond?” Anne asked. All of us wanted to see the Hope Diamond so we made our way to the gems and minerals exhibit. Paul and I were fascinated by the entire exhibit which told how the gems formed in the earth as well as how the different colors came to be.
We sauntered over to the display of the Hope Diamond and, there it was, 45 plus carats of clear blue diamond.
“Ooh, pretty,” Colleen said
“Where did they find it?” Clare asked.
“Well, let's see. It was mined in India in the 1600s.” I said, reading the history out loud. “King Louis XIV bought it in 1668.”
“Did he keep it?” Erin asked.
“It looks like after the French Revolution it was stolen. It reappeared in England in 1812.” Paul said.
“Then another king owned it, King George IV of England. After his death it was sold to pay off his debts.” I said. “Henry Hope was the next owner.”
“That's why it's called the Hope Diamond,” Clare said. “How'd the museum get it?”
“It was donated in 1958 by Henry Winston, Inc.”
Anne had been reading along with Paul and I. She glanced over at the display again and said, “It isn't THAT great.”
“I think it's pretty,” Clare said. “It's really blue.”
I lifted Colleen so she could see better and Paul lifted up Erin. We ogled for a while and then moved out of the way for others to see.
It was after four in the afternoon when we came out of the museum. What to do next? Paul and I realized that we couldn't see everything with four children along.
The National Gallery of Art stood in front of us. Even though we knew next to nothing about art, Paul and I thought we should at least walk through. The museum beckoned.
“Who wants to see the art museum?” Paul said.
“I do,” I said.
“I think we should go back to the hotel,” Anne said.
“I do too,” Clare said.
Paul sat reading through the brochure. “It sounds kind of neat. They even have Picasso paintings.”
Erin and Colleen listened but said nothing. Anne was ready to go back to the hotel; she didn't care what the museum offered. Clare's curiosity was piqued about seeing a Picasso so she quickly changed her mind.
“No, you can't change your mind,” Anne said, glaring at Clare.
“I want to see it.” Clare moved away from Anne.
“I don't know why. He's weird. And I'm really hot. Can't we go back?”
“I really want to see the Picasso from his early period,” Paul said. “We'll walk through and then leave right away. Okay, Anne?”
“I want to go now. This is so boring.”
“I want to see Picasso, too,” Erin piped up.
“Me too,” Colleen said.
“Okay, let's go,” Paul said. “It'll be quick, Anne, I promise.” We had promised the girls that we would quit by five o'clock every day.
We consulted the map so we could see where the early Picasso hung. Anne held up the rear as the rest of us hustled along. We stopped at several beautiful paintings by Matisse and Rembrandt. We wanted to learn more about them but we had promised to make a bee-line for the early period Picasso and then leave.
“I don't think it's weird at all,” Clare stated.
“Well, look at that.” Paul moved closer to the painting. “It's wonderful.”
“It is wonderful,” I said. I resolved then and there to learn more about painting and especially about the early period of Picasso. I couldn't take my eyes off the face looking back at us; it was so beautiful.
Anne had picked up Colleen and they came closer. The six of us made a semi-circle around the painting. We moved around so we could see the details of “The Lady with a Fan.”
“Maybe we'll get a chance to come back here another day,” Paul said.
“When the kids grow up.”
“I'd really like to spend some time here.”
“I would too.”
Outside again, we walked over to where the cabs waited. Soon we were at the Embassy Suites with our first full day almost over. After eating and swimming, the girls got on their pajamas. Anne and Clare had the hideaway bed in the other room of the suite. They opened up the bed, plopped down on it, and flipped through all the channels on the cable TV again and again and again. The flipping mesmerized Colleen and Erin and soon the four of them were on the bed listening to Anne click the remote control.
We called Erin and Colleen at 9:30 p.m. because they were sleeping in our room. I could have told the other girls to turn off the TV but I knew it would be back on as soon as we left the room. Although Paul and I had no idea what they were watching, we closed the door and let Anne and Clare flip the channels to their heart's content.
“Someday we'll come back and go through the art museum,” Paul said.
“Just the two of us?”
“Just the two of us.”
We took the subway to Ford's Theater early the next morning.
“Do you realize that this is the place where Lincoln was shot, girls?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Can't you feel it?”
“No,” Anne said.
“I don't want to feel it,” Clare said.
“I mean the atmosphere. There's a presence,” I said.
“You mean there's a ghost here?” Erin said.
“Colleen, there's a ghost. Are you scared?” Anne raised her hands, wiggled her fingers, and moved them towards her six-year-old sister. “Ooooh.”
“Mom, is there a ghost?” Colleen asked as she leaned against me.
“There's no ghost,” I said to my youngest. “Don't pay any attention to them.”
As we walked up the steps to the box seats, there were some ooooh sounds coming behind me.
We went across the street to see where Lincoln had died. I was amazed by how small the bed was. The guide described how Lincoln's six-foot-four inch frame was literally hanging off of the end. I could believe it. It looked as if our six-year-old Colleen would fit in the bed just fine.
Anne pointed at the pillowcase. I looked through the plastic covering. A streak of brown was on the far side.
“As you can see, there is still a little blood on the pillowcase where Lincoln laid his head,” the tour guide stated. She continued to talk about the events of that night.
We could imagine how horrible that night was. After suffering years of Civil War, the nation lost the leader who had worked so hard to preserve it.
I wondered if Lincoln would be surprised just how admired and loved he is generations later.
We walked through the Capital, craning our necks to see every inch of the lovely rotunda. We then stopped at the Air and Space Museum. The Spirit of St. Louis was there as well as the space capsule in which John Glenn orbited the earth. The capsule had so little room that it was hard to imagine any person inside it, much less a grown man.
“Do you realize that John Glenn was actually in there when he went around the earth?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“There isn't much room in there. I'd get claustrophobic.�
�
“Me too,” Erin said.
Before we left we bought freeze-dried ice cream; the same kind that the astronauts eat. None of us liked it so Colleen began feeding it to the birds. Soon she had a whole group of pigeons and other birds around her. She skipped with a huge smile on her face as the birds followed her. Every few seconds she would toss a handful of ice cream to the birds. They gulped it down. Colleen noticed one bird who wasn't quick enough to get anything. She zeroed in on the timorous bird. It was hard to distract the others but she managed to get food to the little one. The rest of us sat to watch Colleen and cheer the little bird on.
We then walked down to the Washington Monument.
Standing in line for a long half hour did not sit well with Anne. “Can we go? It's hot,” she said, scowling.
“It is hot. There's nothing we can do about it,” Paul said.
“We could go.”
I walked to the back so I didn't have to listen to the complaining. Our turn finally came and we took the elevator to the top of the Monument. We could see the White House, the Pentagon, the Capital, and many other buildings clearly as we looked through the small windows.
We went back to the hotel at five even though the art museum was again beckoning to Paul and me. After we got on our pajamas, I asked the girls to say what their favorite part of the day was.
“Anne, what did you like?” Paul said.
“Nothing,” Anne said.
“What do you mean nothing? There has to be something you liked,” I said.
“Okay, I liked watching Colleen feed the birds.”
“Colleen, what was your favorite thing?”
“I liked everything.”
“You can't say that,” Anne said.
“I liked feeding the birds the best.”
“Clare?” Paul asked.
“I liked the Washington Monument.”
“Paul, what about you?” I asked.
“I think it would have to be The Spirit of St. Louis.”
“Mom?” Clare asked.
“I can't decide. I loved Ford's theater and the little house across the street. And I loved the Air and Space Museum.”
Warning!: Family Vacations May Be Hazardous to Your Health Page 8
