NATION’S CAPITAL COVERED BY THORNBERRIES--Part III

Saturday July 10, 1999: More Grab and Scramble

The next day dawned with hope, with renewed ardor and the ongoing burn of heavily punished feet. Today, we would trek over yet more of the city of Washington D.C. and beyond.

The National Archives and the Big-Ass Constitution

Ah, yes, the chance to see some of the original writings of history’s most famous people. Alas, this would be one of the most underrepresented parts of our story, since the delicate nature of historical documents required that the National Archives forbid the use of cameras inside…apparently, the flash can deteriorate the inks and paper. So this account will have to go entirely by verbal description.

The layout of the Archives was such that we had to stand in a line and walk slowly inside. Then we were directed by uniformed federal guards around the perimeter of the interior, where the documents were either mounted on the wall or in glass cubicles.

The most fascinating document that we got to see was the original larger-than-life Constitutional preamble and a page of the Bill of Rights. They were gi-normous! Yes, in grade school, I had always been left with the impression that the Constitution was the size of an ordinary 8½ by 11 sheet of paper, just with fancy quill-pen writing on it instead of typewritten script. Not so! No, it was at least two feet wide and three feet long. We noticed that it had a funny greenish-gold sheen to it and asked one of the guards about it. He grunted out to us that it was held under a special type of light that didn’t degrade the paper the way florescent or incandescent bulbs do.

ABOVE: The U.S. Constitution as it appears in the National Archives.
BELOW: Ditto for a page of the Bill of Rights.

Among other memorable writings were letters from General George Washington to the Second Continental Congress, a sloppy, bleary note from Elvis Presley to President Richard Nixon and a life-sized copy of the Magna Carta from England. Jennifer and I both agreed that seeing the written documents of some of history’s larger-than-life figures somehow made them more real as people to us. Such findings make us wonder if perhaps someone, someday in the centuries to come will read the original writings of young couples who like to record the stories of their vacations…?

Extra, Extra, Read All About the Newseum

We were delighted to discover the Newseum in Arlington, Virginia. Actually, “discover” might be a bit of a strong word, since Jennifer already knew of its existence before we ever set foot in The Mall. However, it wasn’t originally planned as part of our D.C. tour until Jennifer got her hopes dashed on the previously referenced debacle on the “Hundred Years in Film” exhibit at the Smithsonian Museum of American History.

The Newseum is a little organization, south of Washington D.C. that was completely unrelated to the Smithsonian. It deals entirely with mass communication and is funded by the Freedom Forum, which advocates the First Amendment. Jennifer and I had to take a lengthy Metro ride to get down there, then put yet more strain on our bloody, mangled lower extremity stumps to walk the rest of the ever-lengthening city blocks to get there. But it was worth it! As soon as we walked inside, we were bitch-slapped with whirs, buzzing and a thousand and one other examples of electronica and multi-media. Arrayed in huge letters on the ceiling was the text of the First Amendment. Jennifer wanted a picture for posterity.

We got to try interactive computer simulations for “getting the scoop” as a reporter, and we read newspaper headlines on display around the world. Jennifer and I were amused by one little terminal that allowed us to punch in our birthdays to access the front page of a particular newspaper on that particular date. World events at the time when we were passing through the birth canal. Neat! The Newseum also had a 128-foot television screen showing about five different television channels at once. The most unique exhibit they had was a gigantic geometric ball made out of three-sided plates that had engraved upon them the names of every major newspaper in the country. Before we stopped staring at it, we managed to identify the Ashland Independent, Maysville Ledger-Independent and the infamous Lexington Herald-Leader. Overall, I think Jennifer got reimbursed for her original loss at the Smithsonian!


Clunk! The Camera Crashes

Yep, it’s one of those infrequent happenings that travelers hope will never happen to them on an important vacation.

Jennifer and I climbed back on the Metro and rode out to Arlington National Cemetery, our intent to see some of the wonders of the U.S. Armed Services. No sooner did we arrive and try to begin our journey inside, however, when the film on our camera freaked and bound itself up in a convoluted mass. The camera thereafter refused to advance appropriately and we found ourselves stuck. Neither of us wanted to enter Arlington without a viable camera. There was no help for it; we had to ride all the way back to the previous Metro stop, where, as a helpful staff person had assured us, there was a small store that sold replacement film. After probably an hour lost, we crammed in our new film and huffed our way back to our original destination.

Arlington National Cemetery

I must agree with Jennifer that this was the most emotional point of our vacation. It started from the beginning, when we stepped off the Metro and beheld the opening gates. In bold letters was a sign that said something like: “Please remember these are hallowed grounds.”

We saw the hundreds of tombstones, each marking the spot of a fallen soldier. Even if you don't believe in the military way of life, or in violence, you have to respect the raw discipline military personnel demonstrate and the passion they show for duty and honor.

The pre-Thornberries solemnly accept that this is the price of liberty.

I was very much impressed by the serenity of the property, and both of us were very aware of a quiet energy that pervaded the place. We saw monuments dedicated to the seven NASA astronauts who died in the space shuttle tragedy of 1986, the mast of the USS Maine, as well as memorials to a number of different wars and the cost of wars. Jennifer and I even had the privilege of standing over the Eternal Flame of the JFK Memorial, where we saw not only Jack Kennedy’s headstone, but those of Jackie and their two children. I felt the need to salute the stone out of respect, since, after all, ol’ Jack was a veteran of World War II.

ABOVE: A memorial headstone dedicated to the seven astronauts who died in the 1986 Challenger accident.
BELOW: The Eternal Flame for JFK and his family.

During our time there, I felt like I walked in the shoes of those who dedicate themselves to the Armed Services. For just a few minutes, I shared their frustration toward those “liberal hippies,” who invoke their rights for this or that, while refusing to support the group who spilled their blood to establish those rights.

The high point of the Arlington was the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Jennifer and I came up on a subdued crowd sitting on the terraced area right before the sarcophagus. Standing at precise attention was an immaculately uniformed soldier who carried a ceremonial rifle and an expression of absolute dedication. The man was a machine. I timed him with my watch; exactly every 30 seconds, he would clack his shoes together and walk from one end of a prescribed walkway to the other. Insofar as I could tell, he consulted no timepiece and used no visible means of judging the time interval. But he was always precisely on time.


After we sat quietly and marveled at his discipline for several minutes, another soldier, this one presumably an officer, came out and joined the first. He faced the crowd and said something to the effect of: “We ask that you observe the changing of the guard in silence and standing!” With respect, we all stood and watched what was probably the finest example of human precision in either of our entire experiences. The officer put the soldier through a series of maneuvers and inspected his rifle with a white glove. Then they guided another soldier into place to relieve the first one. Overall, it was quite a show, one I’d like to see again someday.

As an aside on this otherwise serious chapter, Jennifer and I got a bit scared at one point, because we ventured past the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier with the intent of getting a couple of distance shots back at it. For some reason, after we got a few hundred feet out on the well-tended lawn, the replacement well-oiled soldier suddenly walked away from his post to a nearby phone booth. We were convinced he had seen us trespassing or something and was calling the MPs to come pick us up! Although nothing ever came of it and we never knew why he suddenly broke discipline, we also didn’t hang around to ask him.

This emotionally draining chapter marked the end of the events of the trip. Jennifer and I returned to Manasses where we went on a brief excursion for a bottle of wine. Then we settled into our room and just mentally chewed on the day’s experiences.

Sunday July 11, 1999: The Return to Paintsville

There really isn’t much to tell about the end of the trip. We packed up and set off at a time as early as possible, knowing we had a seven to eight hour trip ahead of us. We returned home from our first vacation together. There had been a few rough patches and some stress involved, but overall, we had spent the time together smoothly and lived to enjoy a fine “grab and scramble” through a rich area of our nation’s heritage. Someday, we may even return there and see some of the areas we couldn’t fit in this time. In the meantime, there are many places we yet wish to visit!

Click for the Next Story