After a day at the AEJMC conference we set out for the Smithsonian, which has many museums on the National Mall. And the mall looks pretty rough. But the Capitol is nice.
Here are a few of the artifacts we saw. These microphones were used by Franklin D. Roosevelt for his famous fireside chats:
This miniature desk, designed by Thomas Jefferson, was where he wrote drafts of the Declaration of Independence:
A movie I’d never heard of, but now I want to see. Apparently James Earl Jones is not a big fan, but no worry. The plot is that there was an accident that killed high ranking officials and Jones’ character rose to the White House. That did not go over well. Mostly because they didn’t know he was also Darth Vader:
I don’t collect things like this, but I really, really want a Clinton Jack-in-the-Box. Now imagine your best Clinton voice humming the Jack-in-the-Box song:
In one museum display they have correctly described an entire generation:
And there was so much, much more. There was the flag that inspired the national anthem — the first time I was here it was still being restored. You can’t take pictures of it, and you can’t quite make out the contemporary covers of the tune from where you see the flag, but the giant old flag is worth the walk alone.
Did I mention walking? My feet hurt. We haven’t even done that much walking.
Oh, by the way, the conference is being held near Chinatown. Here’s the big hint:
We did conferences this morning, where there were sessions and many tweets and meeting people and plenty of good research and teaching ideas. The conference is a good one.
In the late afternoon we ventured over to see the nice people who work in our Congressman’s office. We know them because we are High Powered People. You should see The Yankee’s pictures which prove it.
Anyway, one of them gave us a lovely, personal and individualized tour of this place:
Maybe you’ve heard of it.
Each stand has two statues installed at the capitol. One of Alabama’s, the newest addition which was installed in 2009 by sculptor Edward Hlavka is Helen Keller:
She replaced Jabez Curry, whom hardly anyone remembers — our guide was surprised I knew who he was. But let’s be honest about this: I’m me. And Curry was important. Also, that statue is now two floors below my office on campus.
Here’s the other statue, of Fightin’ Joe Wheeler, a man so awesome he was a Confederate general and then, decades later, an American general. If they come any tougher than Fighting Joe you don’t want to know about it. He was born in Georgia, was raised in Connecticut and died in New York. But he considered himself a Southerner and represented Alabama in the House of Representatives for several terms. I guess that qualifies for statuary.
He went from lieutenant to colonel to general in about nine months and made major general by 27, which you could do in the calvary if you lived long enough. He fought at Shiloh, Corinth, Chickamauga and Chattanooga. He was just about the only thing that slowed down Sherman, fought in Knoxville, Atlanta and Savannah, but the Georgians nevertheless didn’t care much for Wheeler. In the scheme of things it was largely ineffectual. He also fought in the Carolinas and try to cover the cowardly retreat of Jefferson Davis. He was captured late in the war, but only after he’d been wounded three times and had 16 horses shot out from under him. Sixteen!
He commanded calvary in the Spanish-American War, and was over a young Theodore Roosevelt there. Edmund Morris, in his near-hagiography The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt has Wheeler anecdote I shared today (from pages 668 and 675, respectively):
According to invasion orders, Major General Joseph (“Fighting Joe”) Wheeler, commander of the Calvary Division, was supposed to follow Brigadier General H.W. Lawton of the 2nd Infantry Division to Siboney and remain there to supervise the rest of the landing operation while Lawton established himself farther inland on the Camino Real, or Santiago road. But not for nothing had Fighting Joe earned his nickname, and his reputation of “never staying still in one place long enough for the Almighty to put a finger on him.” The fact that Lawton was tall, and fought for the Union in the Civil War, while Wheeler was five foot two, and had been the leader of the Confederate cavalry, only intensified the latter’s ambition to be first to encounter “the Yankees — dammit, I mean the Spaniards.” Needless to say, this attitude endeared him to the Rough Riders. “A regular game-cock,” was Roosevelts opinon of the bristling little general.
[…]
The way was now open for a final grand charge by all the American forces, with Roosevelt commanding the extreme left, Wood commanding the center, and the regulars on the right advancing under orders from General Wheeler himself. About nine hundred men broke out into the open and ran up the valley (Roosevelt stopping to pick up three Mauser cartridges as souvenirs for his children), their rifle-cracks drowned in the booming of four Hotchkiss mountain-guns. Like ants shaken from a biscuit, some fifteen hundred Spaniards leaped from their rock-forts along the ridge and scattered in the direction of Santiago. “We’ve got the damn Yankees on the run!” roard Fighting Joe.
He also commanded a brigade during the Philippine-American War until January 1900. He wrote five books, co-authored several more and appeared in an early film, Surrender of General Toral. He’s one of the few former Confederates buried at Arlington. This statue has been on display at the Capitol for 88 years. And he’s always been in front of Sam Houston:
That statue, with Wheeler in Confederate uniform, was made by Berthold NebelBut that means that northwest Alabama is over-represented at the Capitol. I wonder if anyone has figured that out yet.
This clock was on display in the House of Representatives chamber for almost 75 years, from around the Civil War until just before the stock market crashed. (The clock had nothing to do with either, we’re sure.) The gilded oak case was designed by Joseph A. Bailly and built by the A. Bembe and Kimbel Company. The bronze eagle was modeled by Guido Butti, who did a lot of Capitol work, and cast by Archer, Warner, Miskey and Company. William H. Rinehart designed the Indian and Hunter figures. They were cast by Cornelius and Baker.
This is the original Supreme Court. Just outside the door are the hooks where they hanged their robes. The nameplates are a new addition. But this is where the Justices heard arguments and that railing there, just on the other side of the padded seat, is thought to have given us the phrase “passed the bar.”
This Magna Carta replica was given to us by the UK. The presentation case is stainless steel, clad in gold and white. The panel in the front is inscribed with a replica of the Magna Carta and has replicas of King John’s seal. The vertical glass panel is the English translation.
There are symbolic decorations of Adam and Eve, 50 diamonds representing the states, above a dove and a tree of life, a snake representing evil, the fruit of original sin and mistletoe. There’s the Tudor Rose of England, the Shamrock of Ireland, thistles of Scotland and daffodils of Wales. Thirty-one craftsmen worked on this case, designed by the man who made Prince Charles’ investiture crown.
It was presented to celebrate the bicentennial of American independence, in 1976. The oldest original copy of the Magna Carta rested here for a year.
This is the old Senate chamber. It was used from 1810 until 1859. Daniel Webster, Henry Clay, John C. Calhoun, all of the names you read about in history class sat here. Many of the desks (now reproductions as the surviving originals have been moved to the modern Senate) have books placed on them marking historic figures or events.
That is an original George Washington painting, by Rembrandt Peale. The desk where the vice president sat is also original. Our guide mistakenly, or not so mistakenly, called it a throne.
This room was never humble. The Congress has always thought of themselves as better than the rest of us:
This is the famous, and famously incorrect John Trumbull painting.
John Adams explains it himself:
Here’s a more … clever … interpretation of Trumbull’s vision. Nevertheless, this is the first completed painting of four Revolutionary-era scenes that the U.S. Congress commissioned from John Trumbull.
Speaking of paintings. Did you know that Samuel Morse dabbled with the colors? Morse of the Morse code Morses, that is. This is a study for the old House of Representatives chamber. He did this around 1821, to prepare for a nine-by-11 foot painting of the space.
There is apparently only one section of floor in the Capitol that is mosaic. This is one corner of it:
This Ronald Reagan, sculpted by Chas Fagan statue is in the Capitol rotunda as one of California’s two statues. The Tennessee Rose marble pedestal includes a narrow band of concrete pieces from the Berlin Wall. You can just see it at the bottom of the photo.
One of my favorite things about Washington is the symbolism and how so many small details of history and meaning are intertwined in everything, just like that statue. Also, if you want to see more about all of the state’s statues, here’s the official site.
I’d almost completely forgotten about this, but our guide suggested we go see the Toomer’s Oak on Capitol Hill before the rains came. If I’d been on top of my game I would have visited a restroom in the Capitol, grabbed some toilet paper and did this up proper. But we rolled it anyway, with TP from the Cannon Building, one of the Congressional offices.
We carefully removed the paper after taking a few pictures.
The Library of Congress, which is situated across from the Capitol:
We took the Metro over to Arlington National Cemetery. We walked around for a long time, seeing the Kennedy’s and several Alabama men, a Medal of Honor winner Harry Parks and more generals than you can shake an admiral at.
We made it up to the tomb just in time to see the changing of the guard.
We also walked over to Dean Hallmark’s grave. I wrote about him. His cousin is my friend. The two men buried on either side of him are also Doolittle Raiders. Elite company on that quiet little hill.
We had a lot of walking today — and my feet would tell you all about it — and more tomorrow.
Aside: I wrote my first blog posts 10 years ago today. They weren’t especially insightful or useful, but they gave me something to do on slow afternoons after work. Ten years is a long time to do anything, it is fairly old for a blog. But this one is still moving along. Here’s to the next 10 years!
And now we continue on with the Catching up feature. This is the 112th edition of Catching up, where we normally share leftover photos that didn’t land anywhere else during the week. The time frame this time is a bit longer as we get back into the swing of things. With that, let us begin.
This is the lock on one of the doors in the Churchill War Museum in London. It protects Room G, which is Plant Room No. 7. During the war this room provided power to the underground offices and was restricted to H.M.O.W. staff only. Now it is part museum piece, part banquet hall that can be rented out.
In the little cantina in the Churchhill War Museum. The cup on the right sat on every table and held sugar and other sweeteners. The one on the left held my vegetable soup, which was essentially a pureed squash with a few other ingredients:
You see crazy things on public transportation in the U.S., but we didn’t see anything like that on the Underground in London. This lady was the extent of the eccentricity:
It rained almost the entire day we were on the Aran island of Inishmore in Ireland. But the water that came into the cove that protected Kilmurvey Beach was beautiful even still. You’d love to see that water on a clear day. Several rare plant species are listed in this area and the birds are of “international significance.”
One of the few things about Ireland that was a bit frustrating was that there were so many ancient things that didn’t come with great descriptions. But ancient is relative when you’re showing off 4,000 year old churches and forts. Who knows what this building, near the bronze age fort of Dun Aengus once meant:
This was the doorknob to our restroom in the hotel we stayed in outside of Dublin. It was a fancy place:
In the future all bacon will come from a machine like this:
National Geographic included Auburn’s Old Rotation in a list of the world’s longest running experiments. This is a mini-bail commemorating the 100th anniversary of the experiment:
An interesting use of wine bottles at Warehouse Bistro in Opelika:
This is the Roasted Vegetables with Basil Pesto crepe from the Crepe Myrtle Cafe in Auburn. It has roasted tomatoes, mushrooms, squash, zucchini, caramelized onions, red and green roasted sweet peppers, parmesan cheese and basil pesto sauce. It was delicious.
We took the ferry from Galway over to Inishmore, which was a trip not without its are-we-going-the-right-way-will-we-make-it-on-time-where-are-our-ferry-tickets drama. We did go the right way. We made it on time, but only barely. There was a situation with the tickets, but it wasn’t the end of the world. We made it onto the ferry, a different kind of vessel entirely, this time bouncing over the same types of waves. But not as big. And people still got sick.
Adam and Jessica did some shopping and relaxing. We wanted to see a bit more of the island and ride bikes. First we saw a horse:
And then I got to ride in this. People don’t believe me when I say how much I enjoy the weather, but this is the most fun kind of riding:
And since I didn’t bring any sunglasses — no sun! — I just rode in my glasses, which looked like this instantly and constantly:
My rental, an almost brand new Felt mountain bike. That’s the same company as my road bike. And while I have no desire, ever, to do mountain bike riding, this is a sweet little rig. Though it is heavy.
The other problem? I can’t see the cassette. I have no idea what gear I’m in back there!
But we got to ride on roads like this. How perfect is this?
And down here is a rock beach where the seals come in. We saw one down there, but he scurried off before we got close:
Some of the other brave road warriors that we met in the rain:
I mentioned the Burren region the other day, here’s an interesting example of the sheets of rock you see here. And, for whatever reason, the grass that grows through there is incredibly nutrient-rich for the livestock.
We rode up to one tail end of the island, until we could ride no more, and then we walked up to Dún Aengus, which has been called “the most magnificent barbaric monument in Europe.”
Three dry-stone ramparts and part of a fourth, with the outermost closing in 11 acres.
If you’ll look to the left of that picture above it just seems as if the fort is floating in the air. For good reason. It overlooks the Atlantic Ocean and dominates the surrounding landscape as the highest point on the island. No sneaking up on this place, so it was both offensive and defensive. And also possibly cultural. Or religious. And, if anything like the mainland forts, it might have also once marked a territorial boundary.
Frustrating historians and archeologists, this site was a multi-generational endeavor. The dry-stone technique doesn’t yield a lot of clues. Weathering erosion isn’t very helpful. So they looked at how the walls are related to one another, the ground plan and exposed cross sections in some areas of the walls.
That’s given them three major phases, the first was in the late Bronze Age, perhaps between 1100 and 500 BC. Around 800 BC Dún Aengus was thought to be a cultural center for several related groups. In the Iron Age, between 500 BC and 500 AD, there was a decline of activity at the site and little evidence of what may have been taking place there. There were some defensive additions made which suggests the site’s importance had diminished. People may have just moved on, for a variety of reasons. It was a busy 1,000 years in Ireland, after all.
In the early medieval period, between 500 and 1100 AD there is evidence of the final major remodeling of the fort. Quarry work made a vertical plateau. The walls were thickened. Terraces were added inside. Evidence suggests that people were living at Dún Aengus once again.
Also, you’re more than 300 feet above the water here:
I didn’t want to say anything at the time to worry The Yankee, but the thought occurred to me, at the moment I took this picture, that people could have very unfortunate “accidents” here. When I told her later in the evening she said “I had the same thought.”
We both made it back without pushing one another. So did these two ladies:
Even the lichen growing on the rocks is beautiful:
Here’s the view from Dún Aengus.
And here’s a bit of video, just to give some ambiance:
About the name of the fort. In Irish mythology, Aengus — Óengus (Old Irish) or Áengus (Middle Irish) — is a member of the Tuatha Dé Danann and probably a god of love, youth and poetic inspiration. The Tuatha Dé Danann a race of people in the invasions tradition of Irish mythology the fifth group to settle Ireland, conquering the island from the Fir Bolg, whom we also learned about at the Cliffs of Moher. It is all starting to come together now, right?
And then more riding. The rain stopped when we weren’t on the bikes and continued again for awhile when we got back in the saddle, almost like magic. So I chased her around the island some more:
We saw other tourists and locals alike. The next few shots are just of people pedaling:
At the far other end of the island we found a field of rabbits. I took several pictures in this sequence and tried to put them together. It isn’t quite right, but it is interesting:
More to the middle of the island again we passed the Lucky Star Bar, which looked like it hadn’t been lucky in some time:
The most prominent cemetery we found on Inishmore:
More of those beautiful rock walls that dot the landscape:
And this path isn’t on the map, nor is the ridiculous ridge we rode across trying to get over to the other side to see the ocean:
But here is the route we took, minus some scary and fun off road portions:
By comparative standards, a contemporaneous church:
Sadly turned our rental bikes back in. I grew to enjoy this thing pretty quickly. It was heavy, but great on hills. You could really sling it around well, and the shocks were a big novel fun:
After we vainly tried to dry off we walked back passed the closed Lucky Star Bar and found there were new tenants:
And we headed to Joe Watty’s pub, one of the view options on an island of 870 people. (There was also an “American restaurant” in a hotel that apparently came off like the 1980s place in Back to the Future III, just a hodge-podge, and full of locals.) This place was packed too. Our host told us that there was a big local sports and youth festival this weekend and tonight they were crowning the island’s pageant queen. It was all going down in Joe Watty’s, which became shoulder-to-shoulder and chest-to-back packed.
The food was delicious though. We realized we’ve eaten incredibly well in Ireland, despite a few too many desserts. The food has been good and not processed and hearty and I want it every meal.
Tomorrow morning we’ll have breakfast with our B&B hosts and then catch a ferry back to the mainland. We’ll drive back to Powerscort in Enniskerry for one more night before this incredible vacation has to, inevitably, come to an end. We’re having a blast. And going to start looking for jobs here.
They tried to warn those good people. Sadly, those good people would not listen. Two of them never returned.
Kidding. They are fine. Except one of them would later become terribly sea sick.
We boarded a ferry called the Happy Hooker — and, yes, everyone gets the joke — and headed over to Inisheer, the smallest of the three Aran Islands in Galway Bay.
We were ready for more adventures, and enjoyed some smooth sailing:
Not everyone was pleased. There was some sea sickness. Fortunately our group held it together.
We had tea in a pub right off the pier, if for no other reason than to warm up. And then we went out walking. It is only two miles long and a mile-and-change wide. You can walk everywhere. And you’ll see this:
Lots of this. I only wish there were someone around to tell me how much time it took to build a rock wall like this. And where they brought the rocks from. Probably the answer to that one is “Right about where you’re standing.”
Some of the enclosed spaces are holding animals, mostly cattle:
This one mooed …
And that is the first time in her life she’s been next to a cow mooing, so she’s happy.
It is also only the second time she’s heard it. (The first being the other day in Cashel.) No matter where I’ve taken her, no matter the time of day, the cattle we’ve seen have always been full, bored or scared. Her first moo in her entire life.
Historically, this place goes way back. The first settlers of these three islands, according to legend, were the Firbolg, who landed here to escape invaders. There is a burial mound dating back to around 2000 BC and archeological evidence that they perhaps came from, or visited, Scotland. The Firbolg were the people that predated the Gaelic gods, so your mileage may vary.
This is an 11th century church, home to the congregation of the most narrow shouldered people in the world. At one time the islands here were a destination among religious pilgrimages, so this tiny little stone building probably saw a lot of visitors. You can’t go in without turning sideways.
This is Dún Formna, one of seven stone forts on the Aran Islands and the only one on Inisheer. The name means “the fort on top of the hill” and so it is. The person who rain the island sometime after 400 BC is thought to have lived there.
Things have changed, but not everything. Less than 300 people live on the island. Agriculture and tourism are the big economic drivers. This is famed as one of the places where Gaelic is still spoken as a living language. The Irish send their kids over during the summer to learn.
After lunch in the same tavern — if you have the opportunity to order Irish stew, order Irish stew — we got on a different vessel and headed for the Cliffs of Moher.
Some people didn’t care for the waves:
Others didn’t have a problem:
Here’s that rock that juts out into the Atlantic all defiant, and filled with thousands of birds:
The Cliffs … of Insanity!
I got photo-bombed. Good to know that has spread to everywhere:
And on the little spit of land just off of Doolin, as we returned, you see this. It is one of the frustrating things about the trip. There is so much history — and so much of the truly ancient stuff the experts are understandably just guessing at — that things like this can be overlooked. This was a fireplace. Someone tried to keep warm by that during howling winter nights. And then, one day for some reason they stopped. The roof fell or someone died or they got sick of it or there was a job or a woman or … you’ll never know. This sort of thing is quietly sitting everywhere in rural Ireland, overwhelmed thousands of years of history.
I made a little video. It is from our ominous and spooky ride on the ferry up to the cliffs. We wished it had been clear, but the fog gives it a great deal of character, too.
Tonight we are in Galway, a city of about 75,000 people with a bustling tourist and entertainment district downtown, where we walked and ate tonight. It is the third largest city in the country and the first city we’ve seen in a week.
We’d rather be back out in the middle of nowhere.
Tomorrow we’ll catch another ferry and head over to another of the Aran Islands. Should be great fun!
