The Average Blogger

Son of Abraham

So, Barack Obama is all Lincoln-palooza for this inauguration.  OK, great, whatever, I get the symbolism and the reference to racial equality and Illinois and yeah, it's great he is using the same Bible to be sworn in and there's a concert being held at the memorial and la la la paean and tribute to the gold-standard president cakes.

But ... jeez.  With even a passing awareness of history I have to ask: Is this really a road Obama wants to take?

Lincoln is a great historical figure. A hero. An unrepeatable ideal who managed to accomplish the impossible in countless ways, who overcame the insurmountable, who navigated treacherous ordeals with no road map.

He was also a man. And when you look at it closely, a man who made a success of the job in times infinitely more terrible than today. Who lived a good life despite incredible hardships and mindblowing misery.

Inviting comparisons the way Obama is strikes me as equal parts incredibly arrogant and stubbornly ignorant.

Arrogant, because Obama had a much more privileged childhood than Lincoln. His rise to pre-political success isn't nearly as remarkable. He received an education. As far as I can tell, he didn't spend a lot of his childhood in manual labor just to keep the family alive. And while he does confront certain challenges as he comes to power, they aren't a patch on what Lincoln faced. He steps into office with allies, a friendly Congress, a rejoicing nation all frothy about "change." That represents a whole deck of cards Lincoln wasn't holding.

Ignorant, in that Obama is inevitably asking people to consider him in the context of of a leader who presided over the nation splitting in two, a worse time for the nation than any before or since. A commander in chief who went through hell trying to get his army chugging into action.  A man whose child died in the White House and whose wife started out disliked and mistrusted and wound up completely batshit insane. A man who kept an envelope full of death threats he'd received while in office, and ultimately was assassinated while still holding the nation's reins.

Really?  That's what the incoming leader of the free world aspires to? That's the image he wants to conjure up?

Plus there are all these superficial lines drawn that don't really work if you think about them for more than a minute. Like this business with the train ride from Illinois to DC. Lincoln was a man of great practicality. He took the train because it was a reasonable action, the fastest mode of transportation around at the time. Taking a train today, while romantic and a nice photo op and all, doesn't necessarily mesh with Lincolnian ideals. Same with the buggy ride post-train. You think if Lincoln had been given the option of a stretch limo he would have turned it down for a historical horse and carriage? Maybe, but I'm thinking not, since the equivalent in his day would have been to turn down the buggy and hoof it.

Plus, if Obama is truly intent on retracing that trip, I think it only reasonable that he get off the train before Baltimore, don a disguise (some stories go so far as to say a woman's outergarment,) and be smuggled into DC in the dead of night. I mean, we are going for dead-on balls accurate, right?

I guess the thing that bothers me most about all this is the play-acting theme-wedding aspect it seems to have. We all know those people who have Renaissance Faire weddings and make the groomsmen wear tights and the bridesmaids carry tankards of beer around and guests are only allowed to eat turkey legs with no cutlery.  I don't mind a little play-acting. I like theme parties. I'll dress up for Halloween along with the best of the child-minded. But I rather think auspicious events should hold up on their own merit.

But perhaps I'm being a hypocrite. I mean, I got married at a baseball game. But I didn't make my guests wear uniforms or require that my matron of honor carry a ballglove instead of a bouquet.

I should be able to let this go, I know. I should be able to just think these things and not bother to write them down. I should let the man have his day and be happy that so many people are happy and that the nation's capital will see some outside-the-Beltway action next week and that maybe this event could spur even a brief return to civic education and awareness. But those mystic chords of memory just aren't doing it for me today, and I'm wondering if it's the world's memory or the better angel of my nature falling down on the job. 

Hubris

So, my very wise friend Lane read my post of a couple days ago and basically advised me to kill the bus driver with kindness, that cookies always work wonders and that while the driver wouldn’t go out of her way for some random parent, she might be more amenable to doing it for a friend. And that if I were hostile, the driver might take it out on the kid.

All very good advice.  All very cogent and sensible. 

All completely counter to my policy of rewarding bad behavior.

Well, the next day, I was at the bus stop, in my car. When the bus pulled up, I got out of my car and was standing so close to the road that she could have hit me with the door when it swung up.

And we had a very nice and civil conversation, wherein she apologized that the rules were so strict, and that she knew my kid wouldn’t get run over between me and the bus door, but that if any other parents saw her doing that it could mean her job.  I told her I completely understood and thanked her for explaining and thanked her more for being conscientious.  (I did not ask her what on earth she could possibly be worrying about since the Young Prince is the only kindergartener in a 3-mile radius and thus I am the only parent around being forced to participate in this silly dance to see if/where she is letting him off.) I count this as a victory for both of us.

Bus driver, 1. Bad mom, 1.

And then … there was yesterday. 

I have been hiking the battlefield, as I mentioned. I believe I have conquered the chiggers with Off! 

I have not, apparently, conquered the Trails Omitted by the Trail Map.

If I had been smart, I would have downloaded this map.

Now, you see those little goldish-brownish lines? Those are bridle paths. For horses.  Guess what! The map you get with your admission at the battlefield does NOT INCLUDE THOSE.

So here is what I thought I was doing, based on the lines I could see on the map I had:

But here is what I might have done:

Or possibly, I did this.

I really have no idea, even now.  At any event, upon realizing there was no chance I was on this silly little loop trail, I also comprehend there is no way I’m going to find my way back to my car on time. I go off-trail and cut back toward where I know the main highway is, figuring at the very least I’ll find that and walk along it to the parking lot. I get scratched up by brambles, but remain bug-bite free. I find another trail and get on it, but I’m not entirely sure where I am in relation to the parking lot.

At 3:45, I call my neighbor at work.

“Hi. Could you do me a huuuuuge favor?”  
“Of course! What?”
“Well, I’m sort of … lost. And I don’t think I’ll find my way back in time to meet the bus. Could you please be at the YP’s bus stop at 4:10?”
“Yes, yes! No problem!  …. What do you mean, you’re lost?”
“Well, I went hiking …”
“Where ARE you?”
“Well, my car is at the parking lot off Rte 234 in the battlefield.  I’m not entirely sure where I am, but I know my car is 20 minutes from the bus stop, so I’m unlikely to make it there in time. Now, go ahead and laugh.”
“Oh, no. I’m so not going to laugh at you. I’ve done that twice myself back there. It’s scary!”
“I’m not scared. I’m just pissed off. And late. So you’ll get him?”
“Yes, absolutely. I’m leaving right now.”
“I just hope the driver lets you take him. I mean, you’re on the list, but I don’t know if she even has the list.”
“Can I have her call you?”
“Yah. I’ll be sure to answer the phone, ‘YP’s dumbass lost mother speaking…’”

We hang up. I realize the path I’m on has taken me up to the very edge of the battlefield backing up against someone’s farm. 

Sigh. Turn around.

Get to my car at 4:04.

Get stuck behind a Volvo going 35 mph. Where the speed limit is 50.

Get a call from my neighbor at 4:12.  “Hi, I got him. She asked if I was on the list, but she didn’t actually look at any list that I could see. And the YP clearly knew me and ran right to me, so I guess she decided it was OK to leave him.”

Get home at 4:17, with a big 7-11 thank you gift for the neighbor in tow.

Ugh.

Bus driver, 2.  Worst mother ever: 1.

Forget cookies. Looks like there are big melty frosted cupcakes in someone’s future.

Stuff We Saw

So last weekend we drove to Lexington, Va.,  home of VMI and Washington and Lee University and assorted Civil War celebrity sites.

We saw Thomas J. Jackson's house:

And his final resting place:

We also saw his horse. Really. When Little Sorrell died, some dude skinned the critter, and then made a plaster of paris model and draped the hide over it to look like he'd been stuffed. The horse looked remarkably moth-free. But I didn't get a photo.

We also saw where Robert E. Lee is buried:

And where his horse is buried:

The big parts of the trip for the kid were the hotel pool and his first visit to a drive-in theater.  It was awesome, even though the YP had absolutely no interest in watching Ocean's 13 and we left at 11, before the second feature started. But he loved the big screen, he loved the oldies music the place played before the show started, he loved the concession stand and he loved the picnicky atmosphere. I loved all that too, but not as much as I loved watching him drowse off in the back of the car bundled up in a blanket staring at this giant movie screen in a parking lot. It'd be worth it to go back just for that once or twice every summer.

We also saw the Natural Bridge:

surveyed and initialed by George Washington:

and once owned by Thomas Jefferson.

We also saw this odd little thing called "Foamhenge":

And visited some caverns, which sent the YP into hysterics when the tour guide turned out the lights.

In contrast, our July Fourth was very low-key.  Ate take-out chicken, shot off some fireworks in the driveway (along with everyone else in our neighborhood, it sounded like,) and ate Bomb Pops for dessert. All in all, it's been a nice week, except for NYAB's back.  Poor guy did make it back to work  today, though.

Take Your Pick:

Which of these more closely portrays "the natural beauty of Civil War sites"?

This?

Or this?

What is it the eye doctor says? "This one? Or this? One? Or two?"

Done!

I'm finished! It's over! And I made my deadline! With anywhere between one and four days to spare, depending on whether you prefer it to have been an exact year or include the grace period I gave myself from the 28th through the end of the month.

So maybe next I'll tackle the Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire. Or maybe Will and Ariel Durant's Story of Civilization.

Or maybe I'll check out a nice cereal box and be done with it. After all, I do have 23 more books to read by Dec. 31. Though I might scale that one back to 20.

Weekend in Review

EDIT: SC beat Arkansas. What's wrong with you people that nobody corrected me until THURSDAY?

Saturday: Worked in the yard a little bit. SC beat Arkansas. A good day.

Sunday: Drove down to Petersburg and took some photos, including the one above.

You can see more if you click on the new and exciting flickr box on the right. It was a nice trip; we drove down 95 and came back by way of Lake Anna. Tom barfed on the way home, which we did not get photos of, and aren't you glad.

Monday: Put a bigger dent in the Gilmore Girls back episodes and in Shelby Foote. Only 400 pages to go.

That is all.

Weekend Update

First of all, does anyone know what kind of spider this is?

He didn't like being sucked up in the vacuum, that's for sure.

And now, on with our show, in reverse chronological order.

Because the Young Prince has been sucked in by McDonald's marketing, we took all the Happy Meal cardboard map pieces we could dig out of the car seats and had our own treasure hunt on Sunday. Here's the big payoff:

On Saturday, we went to Cedar Creek to watch the misplaced re-enactment of the battle of First Manassas. 

I came thisclose to buying a dress, but didn't. I'm putting that off and going to a store where I'll get all kitted out correctly. Much to the chagrin of probably everyone I know. But hey, Halloween will be set for years. The sutler's area still had plenty to feast the eyes on, however.

"Now that's a real shame when folks be throwin' away a perfectly good white boy like that..."

We actually didn't see much of the re-enactment, we got there early and by the time the show started we were all pretty hot and cranky. Not as cranky as I'd have been as a re-enactor though ... having to ride on a wooden saddle:

(Confidential to Stella: Whatcha think of that?)

But there was an opening act, which I found far more entertaining and delightful.

And that was basically it for our weekend.

The Week in Photos

**Edited to add: I should note that the photo below of Stella Chang was taken by the Young Prince, not me. For one thing, had I taken it, I'm pretty sure Stella would have chucked the camera into the Potomac, and for another... well, hey, I have to give credit where it's due. I don't know if this means the camera is entirely idiot-proof or if he's got some innate talent, but I like to think it was my stellar instruction. Notice that the subject is centered in the frame. Snerk.**

Saturday's hike: I don't think the kid was quite as unhappy as he appears here. Mostly he was sulky because I wouldn't give him the camera.

Tuesday was the Fourth. After watching the kid steadfastly refuse to eat apple pie, we headed down to the National Mall for the fireworks and so forth. After the usual stop at the merry-go-round, we took a mockery tour of the modern art at the National Gallery, then bopped on up to Air and Space, where we picked up McDonald's for an early dinner. As per usual, the moment we sat down to eat, the skies opened and it simply dumped rain, with lots of nice lightning and thunder to go along. We waited it out and the timing wasn't going to be too awful, except that after the rain stopped, we were forbidden by D.C.'s finest to do either of the following:

a: go back onto the Mall and cut across it to our intended destination, or
b: walk up one block on a city street to same.

Apparently this was because they didn't want the embarrassment of anyone getting struck by lightning and dying on A Capitol Fourth. So first they forced us back into the museum (prompting me to ask, "What flipping country IS this? When did we move to Soviet Russia?") and then let us go out the other exit -- because apparently it's OK to get electrocuted if you're NOT on the Mall. A doubly annoying aspect was the discovery that people were allowed to walk this city block coming from the other direction.  Not Your Average Blogger offered to walk backward, but the cop apparently didn't find that very amusing. We wound up taking a cab six blocks around the back of the Capitol to go what would have been 2 blocks in front of it. Argh!

But eventually we persevered and met up with the lovely Stella Chang. Poor Stella got caught in the downpour on her way to meet us, but you can barely tell here.  She dries out well, no? 

The agency where Stella works has crack security. Apparently they let any random schmo wander the building as long as they had a happy face stamp. Or, in Stella's case, the Anti-Happy Stamp.

I got some decent fireworks shots, but really, seen one, seen 'em all. That would be the Washington Monument off to the left. Unfortunately, I didn't manage to get its glowing red eyes. (I think they are actually intended to keep airplanes away, but all I ever think of is Amityville.) Maybe next year.

Today, it was Saturday again. We took the day and hied ourselves up to Gettysburg for the Civil War re-enactment going on. Unfortunately, because it was supposed to happen last weekend, the re-enactors were sharing the town with about a bazillion motorcycle enthusiasts, since this was "Bike Week." I apologize for this: I failed to get any photos of Union soldiers hauling off any Hell's Angels. Let's proceed right along to the re-enactment. 

After the battle, which took place in a random field outside town, rather than in the actual park, we toured the battlefield. This is probably my favorite shot of the day. It's a statue of Gen. G.K. Warren -- you will note, I did not center him in the frame:

And this is Devil's Den near sunset.  I was hoping for better colors, but that'll have to be another trip.

Two Down, One to Go

Thank goodness for long weekends. Man, Vicksburg was a long slog. But Gettysburg made up for it. I have officially polished off Volume II.

In honor of that, a Shelby Foote anecdote:

This isn't actually my anecdote, it's second-hand -- or maybe third-hand -- told to me by a college friend. Some guy he held in fairly low esteem was trying to get some sort of history degree, and one of the requirements was a rather thorough, in-depth analysis of the Civil War. This guy decided he needed to talk to Shelby Foote for whatever reason and gave him a call to ask his opinions and impressions of -- something. I forget what.  In any event, Mr. Foote was no more impressed by the guy than was my friend, for his response was, "Young man, have you READ my books? Everything I have to say on that matter is already in print."

When my friend told me this story, I (obviously,) hadn't yet read the books, but even then, my reaction was, "Well, jeez, did the guy make clear that he only had one semester to get the job done? Presumably with a full courseload of other classes as well?"

When I told this story to Not Your Average Blogger, his reaction was, "See, if I had been that guy, my response would have been, 'Old man, have you HEARD of footnotes? Because they sure are lacking in your work.' " 

Needless to say, none of this is stopping me from digging into the third book. Just... not yet. I'll start in August.

In other news:

Saturday: Mowed the lawn. Sat around. Didn't do much.

Sunday: Went for a small hike by the Shenandoah. Came back and went for a dip in the community pool. (Which is a whole other blogpost about idiot parents who have no control over their demon spawn. I'll probably write that one tomorrow, after another trip to the pool.) Topped off with a few innings of college-level baseball at the local high school and phone chats with both sets of the YP's grandparents.

Monday: On Maliavale's recommendation, we went to the National Museum of Health and Medicine, and I got a few rather morbid photos of Sickles' leg and Lincoln's skull bits. I'm debating whether they are appropriate for the dining room. Maybe. Very, very small. In a dark corner.  Then, on Stella Chang's recommendation, we had lunch at Thai at Silver Spring -- which was notable in that even the kid ate and digested food -- and a quick stop for ice cream afterward. We contemplated going through town and up to Lee's house at Arlington, but the YP fell asleep in the car, so we just took a car tour through town and headed home. I'm pleased to report we didn't encounter any hunger-striking roadblocks.

Today: I'm going to take a stab at getting some housework done. Not a very hard stab, though, as we are leaving shortly to take in A Capitol Fourth from the comfort of a federal building that shall remain nameless thanks to the ceaseless generosity and efforts of a lovely and inimitable friend who shall also remain nameless but is probably pretty easy to identify if you think for a few seconds. Thanks, Stella!

And that is the weekend thus far. Photos may follow, it's hard to say.

Bloodiest Day in American History

So, we were due for another family outing/ramble/photo session. This time, it was Antietam.

I guess we can dispense with voting, though I do have the previous two winners up on the dining room wall now. But if you have comments on how I can improve these shots, I'd love to hear them. We are always up for a return trip!

First up: The Dunker Church:

We took a couple passes around the Cornfield, but unfortunately, it's just -- well, a cornfield. Hard to get perspective, hard to distinguish from any Midwest landscape. So next up: The Bloody Lane:

I kind of like the photo of Thomas in there, but I'm not sure it's good enough to get out of the photo album. In the other one, I was trying to give a scope of the trench's depth, but I don't like how it turned out. It's too hard to tell what's going on.

And finally, what you've all been waiting for, Burnside's Bridge:

I think I like the color one better. Y'all?

Actually, while we were at the visitor center, we got the Young Prince some toy blue and gray soldiers, along with these hard plastic replicas of the church and the bridge. I'm breathlessly awaiting the day he comes running up with them and says "You be Hooker and I'll be Jackson!" Because, you know, he was born in Virginia. And he's taken to saying "Yankees suck" every time we watch Gettysburg, unfortunately. I think there will be no guided tours for us for a while...