Four of us undertook this adventure together: myself, Steve, my brother Steve and his wife Barbara. The three of them are true history buffs. They know the dates. They can expostulate about the names. They know how each event relates to the other. Then there's me. I know we've had a bunch or presidents before Bush, but I'd be hard put to name more than six or seven of them and, most assuredly, not in order. I was out of my league. Way out.
The first day was a history "primer". We walked the Freedom Trail in the heart of Boston. The Freedom Trail is a red line painted on the sidewalk. Follow the red line and you can visit many places of historical significance. We walked. We saw. I don't remember any of it. See, I still have some bad days with my back after heart surgery and this day was one of them. Mid morning I took a pain pill and by lunch that pain pill was determined to turn me inside out. I was equally determined that it would not. By the time we reached Paul Revere's house (you know the guy, the British are coming, the British are coming) the battle in my belly was at full tilt. We entered Paul's house. Toured the narrow, dark, very warm ground floor. Up the stairs. Narrower. Warmer. And there, at that moment in my personal history, came the call "my breakfast is coming!, my breakfast is coming!". Back down the stairs, against the flow of tourists, out the back door and behind the building... yes, Paul's yard will always know that I visited there. Living history.
Plimoth Plantation, in Plymouth MA, is a step back in time. One section is a recreation of the Wampanoag (Indian) lifestyle at the time of the colonists; the other is a full blown "pilgrim" village. The people who work there are dressed according to the time period. They are doing laundry in the river, building dwellings and using the tools and methods of the time. Each person plays the role of an actual colonist who came to America on the Mayflower. We spoke with them about conditions and motivations and politics and they spoke with us as though we were standing there at that time in history, never breaking the role of the person they portray. Telling their "personal" story. It was fascinating and fun and educational. Now this is my kind of history!Newport, Rhode Island. Not far from Boston in miles but far removed in "tone". We're talking "lifestyles of the rich and famous" here.
Mansions. No, not "big houses". Mansions.
We toured The Breakers. Summer home to the Vanderbilts. They used it 6-7 weeks out of the year. Some walls Marble. Some walls ornately carved. Some walls covered with gold leafed goo-gahs and what-nots. And the ceilings would have the marble, the carvings, the gold AND paintings of cherubs and angels. We're talking out of control spending here. The dining room was BIG. When I say big, I mean the guide told us you could fit an average 2000 square foot house INSIDE the dining room. In otherwords, MY house...and a chunk of my neighbor's house. Now I don't know about you, but even I do not eat enough to justify a dining room that big. We spent a day in Salem, of witch trial fame, and another day in Boston touring historical sites. Our last day took us to visit Quincy, Massachusetts, birthplace and home to John Adams and John Quincy Adams, our 2nd and 6th presidents.
Quincy is THE absolute MUST SEE for history fans. We toured the homes where John and John Q. were born. They were "restored" and had furnishings that were "like those" that would have been in the home back in the 1700's. And then we toured Peacefield. The home where John and Abigail Adams lived just prior to, and after John Adam's presidency, until their deaths. Three following generations lived there. It resonates with history. Everything in the house is original to a member of the Adam's family. The bed where Abigail died. The desk John wrote letters at. The same wallpaper on the walls, peeling and fading. Above the fireplace hang portraits of George and Martha Washington, hung there by John Adams himself, and still hanging there today. This place truly stirs the soul in a way I can't explain.
Boston is a beautiful town. The weather was absolutely perfect and the company was excellent. With all that going for it, even my relative disinterest in history was kindled and stirred. But don't ask me to remember the significant dates or the sequence of our presidents. It just isn't going to happen.
