A NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM. I MEAN DAYS..AND DAYS...

Washington D.C. has a large number of impressive museums.   We spent hours and hours touring them on our trip earlier this month.  We ambitiously thought we'd sail through two or so a day.  We were wrong.

Who designs modern museums anyway?  These are not dusty old repositories of used up things anymore; they are works of architectural and design excellence.   In my last post I mentioned that I felt I had inhabited different worlds in D.C.  These museums were part of the reason why.  Entering each one meant entering a universe of multi-sensory experiences.

Ford's Theater:  After milling around in the bright street level lobby/bookstore we were led down a flight of narrow winding stairs to another world -- the world of Lincoln's Washington during the Civil War years leading up to his assassination.  The museum was set up as a an old cobblestone street with "storefront" displays and artifacts of the time.  Then we were invited to climb two narrow winding staircases to the Theater itself where we took seats in the balcony to hear an historian describe the night Lincoln was shot.  We looked across the theater to the very box where Lincoln and his party had sat.  History came alive.  Across the street we visited the Petersen House where the wounded Lincoln was carried and died the next day.  That museum continued on with experiential displays of the manhunt which ensued and finally a depiction of the hanging of John Wilkes Booth and his accomplices.

The National Gallery of Art:  I remember 30-plus years ago spending 3 days in a row at the National Gallery -- my Art History Minor studies still fresh in my mind.  This time, as I wandered through the galleries for about four hours, I found myself awed again.... and impatient.  I think Hub was proving a point -- I always say we do the things HE wants to do, but rarely do we go to a poetry reading or an art gallery.  He insisted that we see each and every painting and sculpture in each room of the gallery.  I tired before he did.  HaHa, funny Hub.  (The outdoor sculpture garden renewed my energy after we exited the indoor works.)

The National Museum of American History:  Wow!  We never made it to Air & Space Museum because we ended up spending seven hours inside this one!  The exhibits were divided into themed rooms and each was a world into itself.   Two highlights:

Next Stop: Oak Park Avenue  In the American on the Move exhibit there was a full scale display of a Chicago Transit Authority (CTA)"el" station, with an actual elevated train car we could enter and sit in.  Immediately we were back in Oak Park and Chicago where we lived, went to school, and worked as young marrieds from 1973-80.  So many memories flooded back and we delighted in reminiscing about our twice daily commutes into the city from our little apartment and first house in Oak Park (western suburb just adjacent to the Chicago city line) -- the time I was groped, of course; the time my friend Sara fell asleep, her head resting on a stranger's shoulder next to her; the time a friend working at the Medical Center filled a giant balloon with nitrous oxide and I transported it home in a crowded el car to a party for recreational use.  (A looooonnnnngggg time ago!)

Oh Say Can You See?  In another display (sponsored by Ralph Lauren, for some reason!) was a dramatic display of the actual Star-Spangled Banner -- the flag which had flown over the burning capitol in 1814 inspiring Frances Scott Key to write the poem we know so well (set to the popular 1700's tune of a song celebrating drinking and sex -- also very American.)  The flag, spread out flat on an angled floor panel, was displayed in a darkened room with stark spotlights and a star-lit ceiling.  The places where it had been cut during one point in history and portions of it given away as souvenirs was evident.  But the majesty was still there.  Hearing the story told, reading of the very real fear the people of that time felt, worried that their fledgling nation would not survive the British attempt to wrest control yet again, I felt myself filled with the same sense of relief and resolve they must have felt.  I wept with patriotic pride standing there listening to the familiar melody, so challenging to sing, and the words I've ridiculed for their glorification of war.  In that moment, in that context I was so moved.  I got it.  I just don't get what it has to do with sporting events.

United States Holocaust Memorial Museum:  I didn't want to go.  Hub has been there twice before, both visits cut short by tight scheduling.  He wanted to go spend more time.  He said it was difficult but worth the discomfort; it was important.  He was right.  About the difficulty.  And the importance. Talk about entering a different world.  It was extremely crowded, but everyone moved through the museum in hushed silence as the crowd of museum-goers moved together through the dark times of Hitler's rise to prominence.  We watched emerge his rapid, unquenchable thirst for ultimate power, fueled by his belief in a "master race" and his subjugation of the Jewish people -- and many others he deemed inferior.  It was stunning in it's stark depiction of the concentration camps, the ignorance and willful denial of the world's citizens, the incomprehensible cruelty of those who carried out the "extermination" plan and the abject horror and hopelessness of those caught in the Nazi net.  At one point I had to leave the gallery to compose myself -- tears streaming from my eyes.  But I came back; I faced what was there to see, to contemplate.  The very last display was of current events -- recent examples of genocide from Pol Pot in Cambodia to the current crisis in Syria. It was a call to action.

Smithsonian Hirshorn Museum and Sculpture Garden:  We had to be outside.  We had to find beauty and whimsy after such an emotional immersion.  At the Hirshorn we found it.


National Museum of the American Indian:  By now we were seeing a common theme.  History is
the story of people rising to power, acquiring land, subjugating or eliminating the peoples and cultures of those who had come before, and then eventually losing it all to greed and a new wave of conquest.  Our little "Angel", our step-granddaughter is Native Choctaw and Caucasian/Cherokee on her birthfather's side of her heritage.   I read of the people on the Trail of Tears and wept for the loss of their homelands.  Yet,  the beauty and resilience of Native cultures is inspirational.   This museum has the unique Mitsitam Cafe, composed of five food stations featuring cuisine of the Native people of the Northern Woodlands, South America, the Northwest Coast, the Great Plains, and Meso America.  What a delight to sample a variety of dishes prepared with traditional ingredients, cooked with traditional methods.  A cafeteria feast of culture.

This is a long post, huh?  Imagine how sore your feet would be if you were me actually spending hours and hours in these museums!  I did it for you; you're welcome.  Until you get to D.C. yourself, I encourage you to Google each of these museums for lots of information I didn't provide and to fact check what I said.  I could have it all wrong; my memory isn't super sharp sometimes.  What is true, however, is how grateful I am to live in a country that provides access to these national treasures free of charge to its citizens.  We are so blessed.

At least, that's the view from here...©