I am on vacation. Vacation from what would be the question. Not being retired like my husband, who is retired but still works part time, I am not really working in the traditional sense of the word, yet I am always working. Being an artist and a migrant worker all of my life I didn't really have a job from which to retire, so I guess I will never really be retired unless I enter a home or until I die. So it is difficult for me to call what I am doing a vacation.
Certainly we have taken a vacation from our homes and the daily upkeep inherent in those dwellings. And we are taking a vacation from our dogs; although I don't think Al would ever want our dogs to hear those words. Also we have taken a vacation from grandparenting, although that is not really work and something from which I would need a vacation as some grandparents might. What we have done is stepped outside of our normal, everyday life in an attempt to gain a different perspective. My definition.
We are currently in Richmond, Virginia. Not exactly the vacation capitol of the United States. Al and I are here because of his desire to tour confederate battlegrounds with two of his cousins. Several years ago, having been invited to a wedding on Long Island, we decided to take a road trip and visit battlegrounds along the way. As I had never visited any sites of the Civil War in my trips up and down the east coast, being more of a yankee than a southerner, I was all in.
Beginning in Georgia we popped the book Killer Angels into the cd player and began our trek towards Pennsylvania and Gettysburg, the main subject of our interest. I cannot remember the exact chronology of the trip now, but the first battlefield we stopped at was Antietam. It was the second day; we were fresh from a night's sleep and a day of Killer Angels, and we were eager to bond through this experience.
Quickly I learned, however, whatever I had expected from this trip, it would not be about bonding. Antietam, also called the Battle of Sharpsburg, was the bloodiest, single day battle in American history. Sobering to think about, beyond sobering to walk the small fields where over twenty thousand men died, were wounded, or just went missing.
Getting back in the car, continuing to listen to the events at Gettysburg in great detail, we stopped at another battlefield along the way. Even as I look at maps I cannot remember the name of that battle, nor the details of the fighting that occurred there. I can remember talking to a park ranger who described how the soldiers would move from ditch to ditch and ridge to ridge in the pursuit of their ideals. But what I most remember is the feeling of shutting down.
Late in the afternoon we pulled into Gettysburg and checked into our hotel. Two days of driving, two days of listening to The Killer Angels, and two battlefields into our vacation I felt what I can only describe as shell shocked. My husband was eager to go out and get the lay of the town so we did a quick car tour planning our assault the following day. Returning to the hotel we passed a theater wherein a movie about Gettysburg was ongoing; a must see. After some discussion and disbelief on my husband's part, Al went to the movie I went to a nearby restaurant and had a glass of wine.
Bright and early the next day we began at the park center which included a marvelous museum, a diorama and a film to provide background to the driving tour we would embark on after lunch. Lots and lots of information for the historian we carry within, if we are to be well educated.
I am, if not well educated, interestingly educated. With both nursing and fine arts degrees, my childhood included living in the very disparate cultures of France and Japan. And like many children I had a love of reading, particularly biographies and historic novels; but I did not enjoy history. It was in my first art history class, as an adult, that I developed a real interest in, and genuine love of, history. Nothing in any of my myriad art history courses, however, prepared me for Gettysburg.
Driving around the town and the surrounding battlefields, where somewhere between forty-six and fifty-one thousand soldiers were wounded or killed in a three day battle, I completely lost my enthusiasm for both the trip and my husband. His curiosity, while normally very attractive to me, nearly resulted in him being abandoned along Cemetery Ridge. And while I very aware of my propensity to shift into overload in times of stress and places of over stimulation, I had never, at any time, experienced such complete disdain for another human being. Fortunately for him, when pressed, he climbed into the car and we continued on our way to Long Island in silence.
I think we did finish Killer Angels on that trip. Maybe on our return home after some lovely visits to other cultural attractions and family gatherings. I honestly don't remember. But as I sit here today my husband is out with his cousins visiting yet another battlefield and I am getting ready to spend the day with my friend Rosie. Perhaps we'll poke around Richmond and enjoy another incredible fall day. Whatever we do I will be remembering what vacations are all about; compromise arising out of understanding and negotiation. No battles in this marriage this trip. The vacation is not over, however; tomorrow we head to Washington DC.
No comments:
Post a Comment