Capital Idea for a Trip
Jose and I just celebrated our third wedding anniversary in our standard manner with a long weekend trip away. This year, after much less deliberation than usual, we settled on Washington D.C. as neither of us had ever been.
Jose at first had some reservations. For himself, he wanted to see all the things he’d learned about in history classes, but he was afraid that none of it would mean much to me. In some ways he was right. Kennedy’s gravesite, or as I renamed it, Kennedyland, was one such example. Unlike my husband, I don’t remember exactly where I was when J.F.K. was assassinated, mainly because I hadn’t yet been born. So, taking a tram--yes, honestly an actual Universal Studios-type tram-- through the cemetery to see the eternal flame was not my idea of a good or even an appropriate day out. Nor was standing in line at the National Archives amongst masses of unruly children who had taken the concept of freedom just a little too far, just to see a faded piece of 250-year old paper known as the Declaration of Independence. For my husband, a big deal. For me, not worth it. I mean 250 years? Please. Big whoop-di-do. My brother’s lived in houses older than that. Never mind that off to the side was a copy of the Magna Carta, the 700-year old document on which the U.S. Constitution and the Bill of Rights was based. It was, of course largely ignored by the throng of tourists. Glimpsing the White House from two blocks away because it’s now completely fenced in? No big deal. Looking down the reflecting pool from the Lincoln Memorial and seeing the Washington Memorial reflected in the water, just like Forrest Gump did? Big deal.
What impressed me the most about Washington, or D.C. as we hip persons in the know call it, is that the entire history of this country is squeezed into just a few square miles. From Kennedy’s gravesite you have a clear view of the Lincoln and Washington Memorials, the Capitol Building, even the White House if you squint. On that scrappy bit of faded paper that announced, “Enough! We’re starting a new country and this is how we’re going to do it,” I saw the optimism and idealism of a great country struggling to find itself. I saw that same outlook etched into the monuments of Thomas Jefferson and Abraham Lincoln, and reinforced in the words of Franklin D. Roosevelt. In the memorials of the Korean War and the Vietnam War, I saw solemn reminders of those ideals gone awry. But I saw the Emancipation agreement and I stood on the steps of Lincoln’s Memorial and looked out like MLK did when he delivered his famed civil rights speech to 200,000 people and it gave me hope that this country, even though at times it may slip, will continue to find ways to live the values on which it was built.
Jose at first had some reservations. For himself, he wanted to see all the things he’d learned about in history classes, but he was afraid that none of it would mean much to me. In some ways he was right. Kennedy’s gravesite, or as I renamed it, Kennedyland, was one such example. Unlike my husband, I don’t remember exactly where I was when J.F.K. was assassinated, mainly because I hadn’t yet been born. So, taking a tram--yes, honestly an actual Universal Studios-type tram-- through the cemetery to see the eternal flame was not my idea of a good or even an appropriate day out. Nor was standing in line at the National Archives amongst masses of unruly children who had taken the concept of freedom just a little too far, just to see a faded piece of 250-year old paper known as the Declaration of Independence. For my husband, a big deal. For me, not worth it. I mean 250 years? Please. Big whoop-di-do. My brother’s lived in houses older than that. Never mind that off to the side was a copy of the Magna Carta, the 700-year old document on which the U.S. Constitution and the Bill of Rights was based. It was, of course largely ignored by the throng of tourists. Glimpsing the White House from two blocks away because it’s now completely fenced in? No big deal. Looking down the reflecting pool from the Lincoln Memorial and seeing the Washington Memorial reflected in the water, just like Forrest Gump did? Big deal.
What impressed me the most about Washington, or D.C. as we hip persons in the know call it, is that the entire history of this country is squeezed into just a few square miles. From Kennedy’s gravesite you have a clear view of the Lincoln and Washington Memorials, the Capitol Building, even the White House if you squint. On that scrappy bit of faded paper that announced, “Enough! We’re starting a new country and this is how we’re going to do it,” I saw the optimism and idealism of a great country struggling to find itself. I saw that same outlook etched into the monuments of Thomas Jefferson and Abraham Lincoln, and reinforced in the words of Franklin D. Roosevelt. In the memorials of the Korean War and the Vietnam War, I saw solemn reminders of those ideals gone awry. But I saw the Emancipation agreement and I stood on the steps of Lincoln’s Memorial and looked out like MLK did when he delivered his famed civil rights speech to 200,000 people and it gave me hope that this country, even though at times it may slip, will continue to find ways to live the values on which it was built.
posted by Lisa at 9:52 AM
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