Thursday, November 18, 2021

How Was The Play, Mrs Lincoln?

As we drove away from Springfield, the surprisingly dowdy capital of the State of Illinois, we heard a report on the radio that there had been a stabbing at a high school in the city. An eighteen year old student had been killed in front of the school and a sixteen year old was lightly injured. A third person, presumably the suspect was not reported in custody and there as usual the story ended. It is noted the creation of the telegraph allowed residents of California to learn the same day of the death of Abraham Lincoln a few days after the assassination attempt at the theater. The  news may now be spread ever more rapidly but may not necessarily be of any more uplifting content. No one will remember the student outside his family while Lincoln died on the world stage and is still mourned around the world.

The home where Lincoln and Mary Todd lived happily in Springfield was donated to the nation by his son on the promise no one would ever be charged a fee to visit and so it is. The National Parks Service as ever does a magnificent job of preserving our history and making it available to us on even the most blusterous drizzly cold Fall days, and with the obligatory masks we felt safe enough taking a tour attended by three others yesterday afternoon. Above you see Lincoln's writing desk excessively small for a man six and a half feet tall but all he could afford as a young lawyer and kept fondly by him at home throughout his life. Next to it there is a top hat with a few papers in it to remind visitors Lincoln was a messy book keeper and not given to keeping very good records. Below are the stairs with the original handrail and it gave me goosebumps to run my hand where his had run 150 years ago.

On the subject one has to be glad Mary Todd Lincoln is not around to see us gawping at her chamber pot holder but there it is. Behind it the parks service created wallpaper in the exact likeness of the time from a scrap found on the wall. I can't say I want to be critical of the Lincolns at this late stage but their taste in wallpaper was...not mine! Oddly enough our toilet in the van closely resembles Mrs Lincoln's except ours is made of plastic and is rather more functional and ugly.

The drive to Chicago to Springfield was two and a half hours along I-55 in mist and rain and mostly light traffic and we really had no idea what we were going to see. Cousin Lynn said it was a worthwhile deviation on our track to our next moochdock near Nashville Tennessee and we followed her advice. We're glad we did.

Rusty got back in the groove preferring to sit up and look out at the mist rather than sit in his bed on our bed and look out the back windows. I have no idea what goes through that dog's head.

As absurd as it sounds I kept thinking of The Simpsons when I thought of Springfield though Wikipedia suggests the fictional town is obviously an amalgam of towns across the country. I was not particularly impressed by the capital city which may speak to lawmakers wish not to waste resources on their own backyard -unlikely - or whether they just don't much care about what surrounds the capitol building. It is not a town you'd visit if not for the National Historic Site.

Half of it looks like 19th century brick remodeled, and the other half is concrete Neo-Stalinist block structures which seemed popular in the mid 20th century. The outskirts was a collection of wooden clapboard houses, pawn shops and dive bars. Luckily the parks service does a stand up job with the main tourist attraction here.

The pedestrian zone that surrounds The House is as good a recreation of 19th century Springfield as you could manage. The streets are paved in brown gravel bedded in tar to more closely resemble the unpaved dirt roads of the time. Obviously the trees are larger than they would have been but the electric street lights resemble the lamps of the time and our tour guide, Ranger Max pointed out the old state capitol was four blocks one way and the city limits just two blocks the other way from Lincoln's home. 

First as always we walked Rusty around the perimeter of the park and up the street within.

A cart advertising the local candidate for the highest office in 1860.

Lincoln came to Illinois from Kentucky where he was born (we've seen that home already near Bardstown) married to the daughter of a wealthy Kentucky slave owning family but he and Mary were both abolitionists, not loudly or forcefully apparently, in Springfield. He was a capable lawyer and bought the home in 1841 and paid fifteen hundred bucks cash. 

Apparently the house was then a one story structure resembling this, the Arnold home so called, across the street:

This is the spot today. After the assassination Mary Todd couldn't stand being back in the house and moved in with one of her sisters a few blocks away. The house was rented out and most of the artifacts and furniture disappeared when the renter moved to Washington. In 1878 Lincoln's son donated the house to the nation and some few pieces of original furniture remained.

There are fake cameras set up across the street at the spot where the Parks Service says most photos have been taken over the decades:

The tube looked like this! I prefer my free standing picture above.

The street is an interesting mixture of homes some occupied by Free Negroes who managed to escape bondage and lived next to the future president in a state where they weren't subjected to the Peculiar Institution. Apparently the Lincolns hired a number of servants at the going rate of a buck fifty a week with board and lodging. They met women from all types of backgrounds including more freed slaves, European immigrants and so forth. 

What I got most clearly from this visit was that Lincoln was a successful middle class lawyer but more than that he had a really happy family in Springfield. One son, Eddie, died at three years of age from tuberculosis in 1850 but the Lincolns were doing well in their family life. They had money friends and were well liked and respected, which for most of us would be plenty and enough. He really was a decent man.

I suppose there had to be ambition to propel Lincoln and his politically active wife to seek the presidency but I could not help but think if he had quit politics after his stint as a US Representative and two failures to get into the Senate he would have lived a fulfilling and rich life among his friends. We would not have known him certainly and he would not have become the name most associated with freedom that we know now but his would have been a life we could all envy today.

Below is a photograph of the house when the winning election result was announced. The country had been struggling since the founding to deal with the issue of slavery and the past decade had seen the cruelty entrenched by Supreme Court rulings and intransigent planters desperate to maintain their wealth. Yet Lincoln took up the job and not with pride or bluster but with concern and apprehension. He knew what was at stake.

I saw a note from his neighbor written to the new President, referring to his train passing the house on the way to Washington and how he hoped Lincoln would make his mark and be second only to Washington as viewed by history. I guess he got his wish, most ironically, for his now famous neighbor.

Springfield outside the park has its own problems to deal with today. Slavery is in our rear view mirrors but poverty doesn't seem to excite much attention among our leaders.

I wonder what Lincoln would have thought of the modern fad for treating the poor as morally deficient. More of the ghastly concrete bunker buildings, just across the street from the lovingly preserved Victorian wooden homes of the Lincoln era:

Churches galore, I counted four on this block within site of the capitol:

Modern communications cannot be disguised against a foreground of history. I suppose it's the price we pay to have what we have, and personally I'm glad to pay it.

Layne retreated to the warmth of the van, our own symbol of houselessness(!) while Rusty and I explored on the raw wet windy afternoon.

It was a treat to be in a Federal Building where masks are required, on a small out of season tour. Our guide told us in summer he will have visitors from up to 40 different states. On the last tour yesterday he had had visitors from just 12, which suited us perfectly.

It was a good moment to visit the Lincoln home as we seem to be living through a period of similar upheaval though one trusts not so violent. It's good to be reminded that politics for our ancestors have been just as unsightly and chaotic as they are now and the Republic has made its way forward.  My next task is to read a biography of the man, burdening my Kindle with another tome -by David Donald- recommended by Max the tour guide, a Lincoln aficionado. 



By four thirty it was getting dark. Our journey from Springfield toward St Louis was a windy rainy bleak affair, tucked up in the warmth of the cab of the Promaster and enjoying being on the road. More moochdocking in our future getting us ready for the wide open spaces Out West.  



Tuesday, November 16, 2021

Work Day

We are on the road tomorrow and I am ready. I have had a grand time hanging out with northern cousins and I'm looking forward to coming back next Fall when we drive south from Alaska, but I have to say the road life suits me as much as I expected it might. More friends to visit but more road miles to mash as well. Excellent.

I crept out of the house this Moochdocking Tuesday morning and walked Rusty as far as he wanted to go through this neighborhood where fences and trash cans are not allowed, where leaves are neatly piled in the gutter and lawns are properly mowed. 32 degrees is too cold for me but for a few days its an enjoyable change.

The end of season vibe is strong here with leaves changing color and falling everywhere but I still have the sensation of being on vacation. We are hoping to cross the Mississippi at the beginning of September, breaking new ground as it were aiming for central Texas and later the Big Bend. It will be a return to van life after finishing our last goodbyes. Poignant but necessary goodbyes.

Monday was a work day in the neighborhood chased by a single trash collector in his automated truck, heated closed cab and all. We paid a fair few tips to our trash guy in the last weeks as we piled stuff at the curb in the October heat.

After the collection that recycling cans with yellow lids and the trash with green lids disappear out of sight into garages, by local rule I'm told.

I have read that the best thing to do with the fallen leaves is to mulch them back into the soil as nature intended but around here they follow the modern fate of disappearing in the name of tidiness. One can only suppose they will eventually go back to the soil by some devious path. I hope.

Rusty was walking slowly and carefully eyes wide open in case other dogs might appear.  One loud barker came on a front lawn held at bay by the permitted buried electric fence. Rusty ignores barkers and wanders on in silence.

I don't know why, but I was slightly surprised to see a school bus in such an adult oriented community but there it was:

I saw lots of decorative cabbages and I'm not sure what they are but they look just right among the leaves. 

Winter? Winter!

Rusty was ready to get back indoors. He doesn't seem to feel the cold but he loves hanging in Lynn's home. She is completely easy and he has a selection of couches, carpeted rooms, my bed, his bed and so forth. I shall pry him back into the van tomorrow...

He gets bored by the conversation and ends up doing this, pulling down a cushion and using it as a pillow:

Lynn put us to work helping her manage her extensive list of neighbors and friends at holiday time. She makes rather delicious nut clusters and I was curious to see what was what.

Three chocolates, dark milk and white were heated first and then Mr Muscle mixed them up while Lynn threw some Spanish peanuts into the mix. More heavy stirring...how she does it by herself I don't know because it is a heavy mixture.

Wax paper covered in chocolate land mines. Quite delicious though you have to wait till morning to allow them to set. In the meantime clean loose chocolate from face hands and clothing if, like my wife you are messy (!).

All work and no play makes me a tired boy so David pulled from Kitchen Patrol and we went and drank beer and talked at Yard House. I had Guinness which they seemed to offer in an endless supply so I did my best to make a dent in there overhead stainless tubes supplying the draught pumps.

Our instructions were to bring dinner home so David the tech geek got the menu on the phone and we pondered options, sausage salami garlic broccoli (!) olives and so forth split in two halves on the mobile menu. Time meanwhile for yet more Guinness. Yum. 

So the fuzzy photo was not helped by two factors: quantities of Guinness as drunk by me the passenger had the predictable effect, and the weight of the damned pizza was the second factor. I have never before picked up a pizza box that nearly upended me. This Chicago deep dish stuff is no joke, thick and as dense as a brick and quite delicious. Well, we got that done. That may also explain the tardy nature of this post. Apologies.



Monday, November 15, 2021

Oakbrook Illinois

"So how was I-65?" cousin Lynn asked brightly upon arrival. Horrible I said. Oh that's normal the reply came pat. It seems that Chicago residents are destined to travel south on only one available Interstate freeway and that particular road is in a state of permanent construction plagued by lengthy work sites, terrible bumps and cracks and crowded traffic. That's something to look forward to then Wednesday when we head back to warmer climes.

Yesterday morning I stuck to my new improved retirement schedule and got up at 8:30, kicked the dog into action (as though he needed any prodding) and we headed out into an overcast morning of drizzle and 36 degrees. The wind had died down so it wasn't as cold as it had been but after half a block Rusty gave up and we marched back to the van in the driveway where I dried him off and made myself a cup of tea and wrote a couple of letters. The shrubbery is startlingly bright and yesterday I learned in a comment about the perils of Sweet Gum trees (?) so I shall look out for their balls before I trip on them.

Layne got up bursting to get Stuff Done so the laundry which had been scheduled for Indianapolis met its match in Lynn's washer and the two cousins sat around and nattered while I listened to Rusty snore. It was the sort of Sunday morning anyone might enjoy, made doubly pleasurable by a warm spacious house in an inhospitable climate. I will be delighted to sleep aboard Gannet 2 later when we are traveling in a few days. For now I enjoy central heat.

Lynn has three adult children who all live nearby and one of them has produced a two year old grandson who was among those who came to dinner. It was reassuring to see health impaired adults and younger members of the family able to gather in these uncertain times and even Rusty got to meet and not dislike the company of Finn, a small black bundle of energy who produced wags from both tails.

For someone like me who grew upon the midst of family drama and conflict the chance to be surrounded by people who grew up together and hold fond memories of each other was quite delightful. Lynn told us of family travels to Alaska and Bob, an avid photographer, was the first person who has ever told me to be prepared not to be impressed by Denali. I will look forward to comparing notes on our trip south next Fall.

The conditions here are not conducive to dog walking Rusty tells me. We have managed half a block in each direction from the house before he gives up and shakes off the drizzle. My polka dot umbrella now lives by the front door as a precaution and and I stand ready to wander outside with him as soon as he points at the great outdoors. 

It is a festive feeling out there for me. As much as I have always enjoyed warm sunny Thanksgiving Days and Christmases in the Keys I find myself enjoying these Hollywood-style views of leafless winter branches and crisp intakes of breath. I have seen enough Christmas movies to enjoy finding myself living briefly on a similar set. 

Mild snow is in the forecast on and off but I doubt the fire hydrant poles will be necessary during our brief visit. I know I'm not cut out for winters like this but the hint of seasonal appropriateness is really quite enjoyable for a change.

To have to mark your fire hydrant like this is absurd as much as it may be necessary. I find it odd that the lump of metal is better adapted to harsh winter than am I.