Harrison, Grant, Taft

June 26 - 

After I grabbed the last of the laundry from the dryer (where I think a man, a sixth member of Duran Duran in black Dickies and a black shirt with red tie, tried to flash Cole and me... I can't be sure... otherwise he was just getting changed in the laundry room in the North Bend Ohio Comfort Inn...), after all that and a quick swim in the pool, we saw 23rd President Benjamin Harrison's childhood street. His grandfather, William Henry Harrison, who was the 9th President but didn't make many days beyond his inaugural address after he delivered it hatless in the pouring rain, that older Harrison has a 100 ft high monument in the same town.  But all his grandson has is a marker. No one seemed to know where the marker was in the very small, very rough factory town. It is amazing that two presidents have come from the same small town and it's a reminder that anything is possible. I would think these monuments/markers would be a reminder of this promise and possibility, but North Bend seemed melancholy and tired. It's hard to be optimistic when there are no jobs.

We were surrounded by factories at every turn. We showed the kids their first nuclear reactor (at least we think it was... it had that familiar shape and white steam rising from it). It was the first one either Tom or I has ever seen up close. We parked and took a photo but shot outta there when we spotted a truck from the compound coming towards us.  With Tom's two week stubble and unwashed white T, he definitely looked suspicious.

Next was William Howard Taft's home in Cinncinati. Tom knows Taft's great grandson Woody Taft, with whom he went to high school. I've met Woody as well, since he now lives in San Francisco and is an actor. There are definite similarities in their looks. 

We watched a movie about President Taft's life. As with all these museums, there is a definite bias towards the president. This museum was built by the Taft family and understandably has its own slant. Talk about being an over-acheiver... the man was president AND a Supreme Court justice. He was not just any old Associate Justice but the Chief Justice. He had been Teddy Roosevelt's protege.  When TR determined not to run for a third term in 1904, he promoted his Secretary of War, Taft, for the Republican ticket.  But then four years later he ran against Taft, forming the Bull Moose party to do so, after his protege had revealed himself to be more conservative, more of an establishment man, than Roosevelt thought he was. 

Apparently Taft was the consumate insider. He knew anyone there was to know in politics and was an extremely good administrator (though perhaps not leader). You know you have a problem when every article you read about him begins with a description of his "infectious chuckle". 

He had an old, large home, which we wandered through. The kids were wild, opening and shutting doors and hanging from anything they weren't supposed to. I'm practicing calm these days. I'm trying to give them a long leash. Actually I am trying to give them no leash, but that's simply impossible at their age. Tom shrugs off climbing on the chairs that aren't roped off (even if the chairs are antique). He doesn't worry about sitting in the back and far side of the movie theaters even if the kids are loud. I suppose its the Southern manners, but I am still worried about decorum. I do want them to use utensils when they eat and refrain from burping. I expend a lot of energy on manners enforcement. It's exhausting and I get tired of being the household nag. Does it really beat barbarity?

Like most parents, we think of things we would like our children to do and achieve. What kind of person are they? In what situation would they excel? What kind of person are we trying to raise?

I'd like to think that I am not trying to raise a particular type of child. I'd like to think we're trying to help our children find their own way of learning. Neither Tom nor I has the notion that there are specific gifts in our children which must be uncovered and will be their great accomplishment. We both feel, and this trip is confirming, that a person develops gifts (rather than reveals them). 

It is not the water alone in Sinking Spring but the combination of environment and genetic makeup. Of course, we know that: nature vs. nurture, but how do you know what environment needs to be created for your child to be the best person he or she may be? And what happens if that environment is different than what another of your children needs? And you? So we treat them differently... talk to them differently... Is that fair? Jelly Bean treats for stopping to go to the toilet during a road trip works for Cole. No treat available to humankind can keep George from wetting his bed at night. 

Adeline slept through the visit to Ulysses S. Grant's birthplace visit in Point Pleasant. I stayed in the car with her while the boys trotted across the street to the white cottage placed in a little park alongside one of those pretty, but probably quite polluted Ohio rivers. Cole kept repeating the name Ulysses. I think he thought it was George's friend from Berkeley.  The bushy beard complicated matters.

The trip was fast, and Cole managed to wake up Adeline as he re-entered the car. Bummer. She needs sleep, and it's not easy to come by with two older brothers in close proximity. We all got out at Grant's boyhood home in Georgetown. His father was a tanner and there was a display of his leather toddler boots made by his father. They were handsome boots. Cole dug them. They'd probably be a couple hundred bucks to buy today. Forget it.

This exhibit implied that Grant was repulsed by his father's line of work (the smell, the hair, the blood, the acids involved in preparing leather). Instead, he was great with horses, and by ten he was taking people to Cinncinati by horse for profit. We barely made it to the house before it closed and the woman that led us on the tour had to call Grant HDQ (wherever that is?) to see if they would accept a check for the $3 for admission (we had no more cash and hadn't seen an ATM in days). We got the OK (whew). She looked a bit like a lovable character from a John Waters movie. The hair was much bigger on the crown of the head than anywhere else, and the color of the eye shadow was as unnatural as a kid's cake frosting. When she cupped the items lying on the table in front of the young Grant animatron (all the rage in boyhood homes of Presidents) to switch stories associated with the objects, her short, plump fingers with long, perfect nails reminded me of one of my childhood Sunday school teacher. I can't remember her face or much/anything she taught, but I remember her hands very acutely.   Apparently young Grant's eyes moved side to side a lot when he talked.

When I used the bathroom in the house, she told me to be careful of Adeline opening the other door in the bathroom as the automatron computer was there. Adeline darted out at the last minute and was not with me. I wanted to look behind the curtain, see the Wizard... What exactly was behind the automatron/animatron? I opened the door half expecting her to be standing on the other side with a tiny little man.  Nope.  Just a computer, buttons, lights... I was disappointed. Really, what did I expect? 

Comments

[Sandy]

Don't worry, there are no nuclear plants in Southern Ohio. Ohio only has 2 and both are in Northern Ohio. The cooling towers of coal fired plants can look like the same cooling tower shape of nuclear plants. The plant in North Bend is coal and oil and is owned by Cinergy now part of Duke Energy. See you soon. Sandy

[medieval costumes]

Thanks for the post. Great read as usual.. Take care.. :)