Sometimes, we forget that the Washington, DC area has so much to see and do. We get complacent in our own immediate home spaces, or think we need to get far away to “get away.” This late summer and early fall, I’ve been trying to prove that theory wrong by being a tourist in my own town (or city in this case). Here’s some of the places worth a visit.
Green spaces are particularly abundant in the DC area. The National Arboretum off New York Avenue has over 400 acres and “9 miles of winding roadways” to explore by foot or by car. There’s always something blooming throughout the growing season, and even in winter you can go “forest bathing” apparently. (That is not a bath in the woods, but some sort of guided nature walk.) You can walk all the way down to the Anacostia River and sit contemplating life. If you are into growing your own food, my husband and I discovered there is also an extensive vegetable garden with educational programs.
While the Arboretum is free, to enter Dumbarton Oaks garden in Georgetown you have to pay a reasonable fee. My visiting sister and I thought it was highly worth the admission. We took a guided tour with one of the docents, who imparted interesting information, like how the vegetation, walls and lawn furnishings create “garden rooms” all around the grounds. Then we wandered up and down the multi-level property admiring the late summer blooms and hidden spaces. If we’d had more time, we could have also visited the historic house/museum, which is free.
Speaking of Georgetown, the C&O canal runs through its downtown. Its pathway makes for a pleasant walk, although until recently a lot of it was choked with weeds and not particularly picturesque. Now, for the first time in years, a new semi-accurate historic canal boat is available for tours, with a costumed guide. My “Lunch O’Clock” work buddies and I took a ride on the revamped vessel on a lovely day in late September. I’m still not sure I understand how locks work, but that’s okay. It was fun to go through one.
Historic houses also abound in the Washington, DC Metro area. My husband and friend Janette stumbled upon the Clara Barton House near Glen Echo Park one day after attending a festival at the park. Run by the National Park Service, this spacious house was built for Civil War nurse-hero and founder of the American Red Cross by the guys who built the park – sort of a long story, but anyhow, she designed it and used it for a home and headquarters. It is kind of sparsely furnished right now due to some renovations, but very atmospheric, and interesting to learn about this phase of her life.
Being a tourist in your own town/city is fun, economical, and can cause you to look at things from different angles. As we ease into the late fall and winter, we will no doubt be cocooning at home more, but I look forward to exploring more DC sites in the future. It’s a good time to start making a list!
Conferences can take you to places you never had any ambition to visit otherwise. I have to admit, Tulsa, Oklahoma was not one of my top destinations around the U.S., but since the annual American Folklore Society meetings were held there last week (and as a steadfast folklorist I try never to miss AFS), It was the place to be.
Besides the 1921 tragedy of the Greenwood neighborhood, which I learned a lot more about, and as the home of the Woody Guthrie Center, which I visited, I didn’t really know what to expect of Tulsa. I was pleasantly surprised by its very walkable downtown, Art Deco flourishes, and very nice eating establishments.
Of course, one has to steal moments away from the conference paper sessions, forums, meetings and presentations to explore the city at all. It’s all too tempting to stay inside the hotel and not see anything past the meeting rooms and hallways, with occasional forays to forage for sustenance. But, having traveled all that way, I was determined to get out and about.
A highlight of the “out and about” was a visit to the Philbrook Museum, thanks to a friend of a friend who is a Tulsa native and drove us there, since it is a ways from downtown. This stately mansion formerly the home of the Phillips family (as in, Phillips Petroleum) houses three stories of a very eclectic art collection inside, and beautiful gardens outside. On the way there and back we saw many lovely neighborhoods, parks, and the riverside, all of which I wished I had time to explore.
In conclusion, I might need to visit Tulsa again someday to see the things I missed. Meanwhile, here are some photos of what I did see and do!
Along the Hudson River, there are myriad historic and cultural sites to lure visitors. These date in some cases back to the 1700s, when the Dutch settled the area. There are grand estates of the rich and famous, artist and writer’s homes, gardens (built by other rich people) and contemporary sculpture gardens. And lots of natural sites, parks, and wildlife areas. Something for virtually everyone.
There is so much to do, in fact, that it’s hard to choose. Since we were attending a wedding that was on the southern end of things, we stayed within an easy drive of the Tappan Zee (now Mario Cuomo) Bridge, and found plenty to keep us occupied for a couple of days.
Arriving on Friday evening, we drove straight to Tarrytown (in the shadow of the bridge) and took a stroll along the RiverWalk. As the sun set behind the Catskills (fairly low hills at this point), we debated dinner, settling on a cute family-run pan-Asian cafe in nearby downtown Dobbs Ferry.
A cautionary tale for beautiful late summer weekends in the area – make reservations for any tours of popular historic homes well in advance. We missed out on the house tour of Lyndhurst, a majestic and sort of spooky looking Gothic mansion which a lot of rich people like Jay Gould built, expanded upon, and lived in (sometimes, though they had other properties too of course). With the admission to a huge craft fair happening that weekend, we were able to not only check out many local artisans, but also walk freely around the substantial grounds. Especially enjoyable was the skeleton of the greenhouse, once the largest and grandest of its kind.
After lunch in downtown Tarrytown (keeping in the Asian theme with a Korean slant this time), we got the last two tickets for the last tour of the day at Philipsburg Manor. While we waited for the tour to start, we wandered to the nearby Old Dutch Church and cemetery, across the infamous site of the bridge where the legendary Headless Horseman chased the hapless Ichabod Crane. (If you are a bit rusty on your Washington Irving, you might want to download an audio version of the story for fun, like we did!)
The tour of Philipsburg Manor was well worth the wait. The grounds include a grist mill, the manor house, a barn, garden and outdoor bake oven, all flawlessly interpreted by costumed staff (though thankfully not in first person, which always creeps me out). It is the year 1750, and enslaved laborers run the mill, the dairy, the household, the fields, and the baking, since the rich owners really live in Manhattan and hardly ever occupy the premises. It is story that is seldom told in the northern states, and the details of the estate were preserved through an inventory which was meticulously completed down to the last piece of pewterware, due to the last heir dying without a will. (And he was a lawyer, so go figure, but we can all be glad he failed on this account.)
That evening, we caught another beautiful sunset on the Hudson. The next day, we had just enough time to explore a good chunk of the amazing Untermyer Gardens, near our hotel in Yonkers. A Persian-inspired walled garden, a grand staircase sweeping down to an overlook of the Hudson, and a Temple of Love with waterfalls… what more could you ask for?
Some day we will make it to the Upper Hudson Valley (and even to the Middle?), but the southern portion was more than sufficient for one weekend! Here are some snaps of the sites:
View of the Lyndhurst mansion from the Bowling Alley on the lower portion of the grounds. The path along the river connects with the RiverWalk in nearby Tarrytown.
Montgomery, Alabama is chock full of disturbing history: From the earliest days of settlers displacing indigenous peoples, to becoming a prominent slave auction site, to its distinction as the “first capitol of the Confederacy,” to civil rights violence (and lots of other things I missed in between). Good things happened here, too, and the citizens love their city despite it all.
I visited with a group of educators working on a multi-year grant through the Department of Education. (Our Smithsonian Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage is a partner in the grant.) REACH (Race, Equity, Arts and Cultural History) “proposes a five-year project to establish a national replicable model that will strengthen the fiber of arts learning and harness the learning and effectiveness of arts integration as a catalyst for increasing student engagement and achievement” and is in a large part the brainchild of my esteemed colleague, Denise Davis-Cotton, from the University of South Florida’s Center for Partnerships in Arts-Integrated Teaching. Denise is from Montgomery and wanted our first year’s museum studies site visit to take place there, at the many excellent Civil Rights sites.
To me, the most memorable of all of these highly memorable sites was the National Memorial for Peace and Justice. When I told some friends about visiting the memorial, they said, “Oh, you mean the Lynching Memorial.” Well, that’s a big part of the story, but not all of it. This is a memorial for healing, not just for documenting in a very emotionally affective way the legacy of over 4,000 known lynchings in our country.
Still, the terrible history of lynching as an unchecked practice in much of the U.S. between the Civil War and World War II is the largest part of this incredible installation. Row upon row of metal columns list states, counties and names of the people who lost their lives to individuals or mobs who somehow thought they were meting out justice in their hate-twisted minds.
Interpreters are on hand to unpack some of what you see, and add in even more disturbing facts from the extensive research that has been carried out for the memorial. I talked to one of them, Ricky Blackmon, about why he decided to work at the Memorial, as I was thinking it must be hard to fill in the blanks created by these lists of victims with descriptions of public lynchings, souvenirs made of human flesh, and other unbelievable but true stories. “I do it for my grandparents,” he told me. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
If I had not already been on the verge of tears by then (about a quarter of the way through the memorial), I was then. And I can’t help crying again while writing this.
If you find yourself in Montgomery, don’t skip a visit to this incredible installation. And talk to the interpreters. But meanwhile, here are some photos I took.
Quebec City is the next best thing to going to Europe. Considering the fact that I was SUPPOSED to go to Europe this week, in this case to Switzerland, but instead am laid up with a bum hip, I am glad my daughter M.E. and I experienced this trip to almost-Europe. It will have to suffice for this summer.
This was the third time I’d been to Quebec City. The first time was right after my dad passed away, my mom’s first venture at planning a mother and daughter trip instead of a family vacation. We splurged and flew from Burlington, VT – first time on a plan for either of us. I was 13 years old. So don’t remember much except the imposing Chateaux Frontenac, the historic edifice that dominates the landscape of the old city.
The second time was with my hubby for a few days, and we drove, so we had a wider adventure along the way to and from. This time, we flew to Montreal and took the bus to and from Quebec. Except for a major hassle with cancelled and delayed flights home, that worked out pretty well. (The bus is a lot cheaper than the train, and goes straight to the airport after a brief stop downtown. And has wifi – well is supposed to have wifi at least.)
We walked a lot (which probably in the long run did not help my current hip problem, but what the heck), and explored not only the old parts of the city and the Citidel on the hill, but a few parts of the more modern city as well. We also booked a few organized tours: a boat ride on the St. Lawrence (almost required on a trip with me), a tour of the countryside (with a very amusing bus driver/guide) and a glimpse into the inner workings and history of the Chateaux. (Next best thing to staying there, which is not really affordable and probably not totally worth it.)
Here are some highlights in photos. If you can’t make it to Europe, and live on the East Coast, try a visit to Quebec is my advice. Just don’t fly Air Canada.
[Dedicated to my co-curators, Arlene Reiniger, Erin Chapman and Molly Dodge. Who share the kudos and the blames…]
Finally emerging from the all consuming preparation, execution, and aftermath that is the Smithsonian Folklife Festival is like surfacing after a long time underwater. It’s time to take a long deep breath, assess the successes and the damages, pack away some of the physical accoutrements and the emotional baggage that comes with working with a huge team of very talented but sometimes testy personalities, and – most important – get some sleep uninterrupted with nightmares of what is yet to be done, missing, forgotten, or just fallen between the cracks.
Having worked on the event for the last 36 years, in one capacity or the other, you’d have thought I’d seen it all. But the Festival has changed, evolved, morphed, and reformed over that span of time, in some ways for the better and in some ways making one long for earlier days. It’s only natural, though the more recent Festival staff often dislike us oldsters talking about those “good old days” when things were done differently (also for better or worse).
I have curated or co-curated at least 11 Festival programs (I might have forgotten one or two, maybe on purpose?). Curating a Festival program is often exhilarating, but just as often exhausting. Being responsible for so many moving parts (tents, signs, concept messages, schedules, gardens, whatnot) and people (participants, presenters, interns, volunteers, direction or at least information to other staff members) is a weighty job. Yes, curators get the praise if things go well, but just as often get the blame – for just about everything.
Sign text late? Curator’s fault. Participants not totally chosen yet (and there’s too many of them?) – definitely curator’s fault. Over budget? check. Supply and/or Tech list not complete? check. And the list goes on, and on.
The other thing that is mostly unseen is the physical labor Festival curators and their staff of (mostly of interns and volunteers) are expected to shoulder, and do so (mostly though not always) without complaining. Putting up and moving around tables and chairs. Toting bags of soil and mulch for gardens. Carrying supplies around. Arranging and rearranging stuff in storage containers. Cleaning up the site after the Festival when we are most tired, both physically and mentally.
Why would anyone want this job, you ask? Not for the glory, that is for sure. For me, it’s two reasons. One, to showcase and honor the skills, talents, work and traditions of the amazing Festival participants – who work so hard to prepare, travel so far, and spend so much time explaining/demonstrating/performing. Two, to be a part of something so life-changing for so many people.
Yes life-changing — that is the way so many participants, temporary staff, interns and volunteers describe their time at the event. Over and over, throughout the years. It is truly special, and worth the bangs and bruises (physical and of our egos) to be a part of this thing. It gets in your blood after a while and you can’t not be there helping, even if you aren’t “in charge” – with all the kudos and blame that comes with that role.
Here’s some behind the scenes pix to give the idea of the spirit and feel of the event and of our Earth Optimism x Folklife program, for those who are in the know and those who just come to enjoy; or have never been. With all the troubles that came this year after having been away from doing it in person for a few years, it was still worth it. (Though I am still catching up with sleep and still taking a daily dose of Aleve to ease the aches.) Long may it rein, and produce more “good old days” for the youngsters still settling into their roles, or the “one-timers” who will hopefully remember their Festival time as one of the hardest and most rewarding things they ever accomplished.
Spring keeps yoyoing around here this year. It gets warm, and then warmer, and then back in the 50s again. Still have not liberated the little tomatoes and peppers (some of which are quite large now!) from their pots yet. But the greens and radishes are flourishing, at least.
Gardening and work on our upcomingEarth Optimism x Folklife program for the 2022 Smithsonian Folklife Festival are about all I’ve had time for lately, with a couple of Easter celebrations thrown in for good measure.
And a visit to other gardens, as you will see below. Hope to have something more exciting and further afield next month (as once a month seems to be the average for me posting this year). But for now, here are some pictures from my April-early May “blooming adventures”!
We’ve been redoing our back and side yard gardens this spring, and I couldn’t be more excited. New raised beds mean less stooping over for my tired old back, and new rich soil means we might actually get some decent veggies this year!
Meanwhile, I continue to collage with my friend Martha and I’m often inspired by flowers and gardens. I put all those seed catalogs that keep piling up to good use, cutting them into flower arrangements and fanciful dream gardens for cards to flower and garden loving friends.
Making gardens, real or imaginary, brings me back to my “roots” so to speak. My father always planned and executed a large vegetable garden in our yards – first in New Jersey and then in Vermont. After he passed away, my mother kept the tradition, enlisting both myself and my sister in the work.
I hate weeding and I never really liked picking green beans (they are really hard to see among their foliage!). I especially detest squash bugs, spotted cucumber beetles, and slugs, and whatever likes to take big bites out of ripe tomatoes. But I do like to play in the dirt. And to eat the results.
Watching things sprout and grow brings us hope. We all need a big dose of hope right now.
Here are some plant and garden pix, real and imagined.
I feel as though I deserved a trip to Florida (even if it was partially a work trip) this past week. It’s been a rough few months. So, taking off for Sarasota seemed like a really excellent idea.
I’d been to Sarasota a couple of times briefly before, but this time really got a chance to explore the city and its environs. The food (yay grouper!), the sunsets, the balmy winter temperature, the interesting flora, the many variations of blue-green-gray on the bay and gulf… what’s not to like?
A couple of highlights and then the rest in photos… Kayaking with buddies Arlene, Pete and Carol on Longboat Key. Visiting the Marie Selby Botanical Garden’s historic Spanish Point location (though we hear the downtown location is even better). Free Monday admission to the amazing Ringling Art Museum and grounds. And sunsets on Siesta Key and the downtown Bayfront Park. Not to mention soaking in hotel hot tubs and eating delicious fresh fish and ethnic delights. Oh, and visiting my grad school buddy Eleanor, who cooked us dinner.
It was worth risking COVID amid the now mostly unmasked masses in Florida. It was worth risking sunburn on our winter-white bodies. It was worth the several more pounds I came home with (and I’m not talking about in my suitcase)!
The trip will get me through to the Spring that is sure to come here soon (despite the groundhog’s silly predictions).
Since mid-November, it’s been a rocky road for our small family. While my brother in law, Bob McFadden, was in home hospice in Hilton Head, SC, my mom had two trips to the Hilton Head hospital. Bob passed away on December 2. Mom rallied a bit, able to come to my sister’s home from the nursing home for Christmas Eve via wheelchair van.
It was clear, though, that she was in decline, very frail and not taking pleasure in much of anything. I went home after Christmas, but was back for Bob’s memorial service in mid-January. The plan was to stay through my mom’s 96th birthday on January 28, but it became even more clear that she was not doing well, staying in bed almost exclusively and increasingly confused and in pain.
I stayed, and my sister and I went every day to visit, often finding her sleeping fitfully, or just plain knocked out by the strong pain killers she needed to make her some level of comfortable. On her birthday, we brought her favorite Chinese take-out and a decorated cake; she spent the day in a semi-stupor and didn’t get to enjoy any of it.
She lasted almost another two weeks, tenuously holding on to life, passing away finally on the morning of February 7. So sad, but finally at peace.
She was not always the easiest person to love, but we did regardless. She will be remembered for her sense of humor (sometimes a bit bawdy); her colorful sayings, many of which I find myself using as they are so ingrained; her love of cooking and food, which was hard to see her deprived of when she started losing her taste buds and desire to eat even the most tempting dishes; and her feistiness in general. She was mentally sharp up to the later stages of her decline.
Here are is a slide show with some fairly recent photos from my digital stock; there are so many more from the days of print photos of course which I will get around to digitizing some day maybe. I may do another blog later that delving into her earlier life, as I whiled away hospital hours during her first stay by doing a recorded interview. Hours of memory cannot be condensed into a few words or photos, but it helps to share some of this with friends. Cherish your loved ones, for all their faults, all the days of their lives.