June 23
We were awakened at 4:30 am in our beautiful campground (with a far off view of the St. Louis arch) by a strange, unrecognizable, satanic-like music. I'd heard a car drive by and then from the other side of the woods this freaky music. It sounded like Buddy Holly if his eyes swirled in his head as he sang. I began to panic. We were in the middle of a lake on an island, with only a few other campers. These vile music listeners were obviously preparing to make a human sacrifice, or if we were lucky... just open fire on everyone (we would then have a chance to escape).
Tom woke up as well. "Don't be silly," he said at first, "Go back to sleep." But now he was up and he couldn't recognize the music either. We agreed that anything we could place would be better -- even "We built this city on rock n' roll" or "Bright Eyes". But this was way-out. Finally Tom said: "Seeing that we're up, we might as well pack. It usually takes us 3 hours anyway. We'll get a decent start." I called his bluff. "So if we hear anything, a shout, anything, I grab Cole. You grab George and Adeline." "Sounds about right," he responded, grabbing his keys.
As we were hurriedly packing our car, we saw the mystery car leave. It seems they were just assholes playing loud, trance-like and, yes, bad music. Probably high on something complicated. That's what you get for a campsite listed on the freecampsites.com I guess.
After breakfast and a stop at Walmart for more propane and other supplies, George needed markers to make his books. We traveled a short way to Lincoln's boyhood home in Gentryville, Indiana. We began our tour at the visitor's center, where we had a theater to ourselves for the Lincoln movie. George was wearing his Lincoln thin-brimmed top hat, which he is convinced helps with sun and insects. Cole had on his Batman mask and Adeline had on a union soldier's cap.
As we were alone, we were not as stressed about the kids making noise or wandering (i.e. we were tired). They climbed over chairs, under chairs, on Daddy, off Daddy... spilling, dropping , crying for sippy cups. Tom and I were silent until Cole spotted the speaker and DVD system and went for the buttons. I stopped him just in time... whew. Despite the constant chaos, Tom and I managed to get teary when we learned in the movie that Lincoln's younger sister Sarah died, too. His life was one of tremendous loss: first his infant brother, then his mother, then his dear sister, then his first love and intellectual companion Ann Rutledge, his sons Edward and William, and finally his own life at the age of 56.
Cole was too tired and hot to walk to the working farm in the park. He seems to be the only child to really be effected by the heat. He sweats like crazy in the car and takes all of his clothes off once (how he does this while fully seat-belted amazes me and Tom). I worry that it bothers him, but then I find that he's put on and slept in two layers of pajamas (Spiderman pretending to be Superman) and is also completely inside the sleeping bag (in 90 degree weather).
Anyway, he wanted me to drive him up the hill so I did. Tom tossed me the car keys and as I caught them I felt a warm stream of something on my foot. Cole had whipped it out and was (accidentally) peeing on me. In the middle of the Lincoln park entrance. "Cole!"
We cleaned up at the car and slowly made our way to the cabin. He was happy to have alone time with Mommy I think. He grabbed my hand. After parking, we walked the last part of the path through the meadows where Lincoln grew up from 7 to 20, and where he lost his mother and older sister to "milk sickness," caused by drinking the milk of cows who had ingested a poisonous weed common to that area.
We found Tom, George and Adeline wandering the grounds. Tom was in heaven looking out over the trees and fields he had read so much about. He said that for him, as a secular person, this was like going to Bethlehem and seeing the actual manger. George flew here and there shouting, "Look Mommy!" I took the kids to the car while Tom had a little time alone.
Long ago when we were thinking of names for the theater we were starting in Berkeley, Tom shared with me a poem that Lincoln had written of his childhood:
My childhood's home I see again,
And sadden with the view;
And still, as memory crowds my brain,
There's pleasure in it too.
O Memory! thou midway world
'Twixt earth and paradise,
Where things decayed and loved ones lost
In dreamy shadows rise,
And, freed from all that's earthly vile,
Seem hallowed, pure, and bright,
Like scenes in some enchanted isle
All bathed in liquid light.
We thought about calling our theater Liquid Light Theater, but in the end we chose Transparent (the runner-up was Night Bell Theater, also based on a quote from Lincoln). The sunlight through the trees there did have the feel of "liquid light," though. And the place did mix sadness with pleasure. All in all it was a moving experience being there.
The hardest part of the trip is that Tom and I have very limited time alone, The kids need us to sleep with them to fall asleep (new surroundings) and still being on West Coast time, the kids are going to bed late and we with them. The sun is up early, so they are too... We're trying to get them to bed earlier but it's just not happening.
Tom needs time to read on the Presidents we are seeing (though most of the research canl be done this fall). I need time to be sane (I write in the car when I'm not fetching crayons, magic markers, paper, math book, DVD, etc....). We're still getting our systems in place. It's happening... It's happening... I hope it happens.
By the time we got to Louisville, KY., where we spent the night, Cole was covered in green marker. He had colored himself in to be the Incredible Hulk. Adeline had also turned herself into a magic market canvas. Happy that it was washable marker, we all went to sleep as our own kind of clean selves.
Presenting The Incredible Hulk:
I love your blog! Great pics! You have wonderful children! I love the pic with Cole playing the Incredible Hulk!
Posted by: Mike | May 20, 2010 at 06:14 AM