Holocaust Memorial Museum
I just wrote a really, really long post and promptly lost it. I'll try again.
Woke up earlyish to Maurice and Makalah coming in to scream and tell me that they were going to school. It was cute in a really bothersome kind of way.
Made a decision and got on my bike. I was listening to the radio on the way and I heard that, due to increased security measures imposed by Mayor Williams, 1st St. was shut down between Independenc and Constitution. I was approaching 3rd and Constitution as I heard this. There were also vehicle checks within a few blocks of the capitol. I certainly noticed the increased security with the Capitol Police out in force as well as the several helecopters patrolling the city. It was weird to stumble upon national news that I was just hearing about.
Arrived at the Holocaust Memorial Museum on 14th SW at about 9.45 AM and was dismayed to find a long line outside. The museum opens at 10. Resolved, I got in line anyway. As I waited (not too long), I saw a friend from class at NU, whose name I have forgotten, and we talked briefly. We were mostly just surprised to see one another.
I continued into the museum.
I came out three and a half hours later, shaken and disquieted.
It was so much bigger, so much more disarming than I had remembered from 6 or 7 years ago. I knew that it would be difficult, so I had prepared myself, but I was dismantled, slowly, deliberately, as I moved from floor to floor. I could feel the rivets in my emotional armor popping as I stepped from wall to wall, room to room. I noticed that I didn't cry more than a few errant tears until, like an ember tossed into a field of gasoline-soaked rags, I thought of myself and my sister, Nina, terrified outside one of the crematoria at Auschwitz. Then I sobbed. I ended up skipping several parts becuase I just didn't want to see or deal with it any more. I was glad to have done the museum alone. I feel I could not have felt the full effect otherwise.
I emerged, shielding my eyes against the sun and uncomfortably hot due to the longsleeves and pants I had worn, half in respect for the memorial and half in preparation for the frigid cold I knew they kept the museum in. I found my bike with yet another flat tire (this one again resulting from a tiny hunk of metal. I was not concerned. I am more irritated now that I am home that I have had 3 flats in less than 2 weeks. I just keep running over tiny, pointy objects.
A bicycle cop was nice enough to not only offer me a pump, but also a new inntertube and the tools with which to install it. Unfortunately, she did not have a crucial tool I needed to install the tube, so I walked the bike to the nearest Metro (Smithsonian).
Getting off at Eastern Market, I bought an innertube patch kit as well as some couscous for dinner.
I walked the bike home.
At home I ate (gezpacho with couscous), showered and prepped for work. Also got an e-mail from my Grandmother urging me to go to the Holocaust Museum and the Hirshorn. To Grandma: I made it to one, but I'll try for the other.
Walked to work. Had a long, unhappy, unprofitable day at Cosi. I was sad and I just didn't want to be there, which did not lend itself well to my tip jar, nor to favor from my manager. I was glad to be unhappy, though, mostly becuase I was still unsettled from the museum and also because it gave me significant slack when telling my boss that I leave next Saturday (the 14th).
Pete: "Well, that's really fucking short notice." But he agreed to mail me my check and that was that.
Walked home after a talk with the 'rents. At home, I was immediately yelled at by Caroline for having left my tire and innertube on the carpet in the living room. Considering that both of us have been keeping our bikes (tire-side down) on that same carpet for 6 weeks and an innertube is vastly more clean than a tire, I had figured that it was fine do leave them there. I obliged, however, because I understand and respect her desire for a clean carpet, even if what I was doing would not dirty it.
I patched up the tire, talked more with the fam. Made an entry into my livejournal. Lost it. Made another and now I'm really ready for bed.
Getting up early tomorrow to make some Irish Soda Bread for the office.
Note: I misidentified friend Marcy Baskin as Marcy Benson in a previous post. Quorumcall regrets the error.
Woke up earlyish to Maurice and Makalah coming in to scream and tell me that they were going to school. It was cute in a really bothersome kind of way.
Made a decision and got on my bike. I was listening to the radio on the way and I heard that, due to increased security measures imposed by Mayor Williams, 1st St. was shut down between Independenc and Constitution. I was approaching 3rd and Constitution as I heard this. There were also vehicle checks within a few blocks of the capitol. I certainly noticed the increased security with the Capitol Police out in force as well as the several helecopters patrolling the city. It was weird to stumble upon national news that I was just hearing about.
Arrived at the Holocaust Memorial Museum on 14th SW at about 9.45 AM and was dismayed to find a long line outside. The museum opens at 10. Resolved, I got in line anyway. As I waited (not too long), I saw a friend from class at NU, whose name I have forgotten, and we talked briefly. We were mostly just surprised to see one another.
I continued into the museum.
I came out three and a half hours later, shaken and disquieted.
It was so much bigger, so much more disarming than I had remembered from 6 or 7 years ago. I knew that it would be difficult, so I had prepared myself, but I was dismantled, slowly, deliberately, as I moved from floor to floor. I could feel the rivets in my emotional armor popping as I stepped from wall to wall, room to room. I noticed that I didn't cry more than a few errant tears until, like an ember tossed into a field of gasoline-soaked rags, I thought of myself and my sister, Nina, terrified outside one of the crematoria at Auschwitz. Then I sobbed. I ended up skipping several parts becuase I just didn't want to see or deal with it any more. I was glad to have done the museum alone. I feel I could not have felt the full effect otherwise.
I emerged, shielding my eyes against the sun and uncomfortably hot due to the longsleeves and pants I had worn, half in respect for the memorial and half in preparation for the frigid cold I knew they kept the museum in. I found my bike with yet another flat tire (this one again resulting from a tiny hunk of metal. I was not concerned. I am more irritated now that I am home that I have had 3 flats in less than 2 weeks. I just keep running over tiny, pointy objects.
A bicycle cop was nice enough to not only offer me a pump, but also a new inntertube and the tools with which to install it. Unfortunately, she did not have a crucial tool I needed to install the tube, so I walked the bike to the nearest Metro (Smithsonian).
Getting off at Eastern Market, I bought an innertube patch kit as well as some couscous for dinner.
I walked the bike home.
At home I ate (gezpacho with couscous), showered and prepped for work. Also got an e-mail from my Grandmother urging me to go to the Holocaust Museum and the Hirshorn. To Grandma: I made it to one, but I'll try for the other.
Walked to work. Had a long, unhappy, unprofitable day at Cosi. I was sad and I just didn't want to be there, which did not lend itself well to my tip jar, nor to favor from my manager. I was glad to be unhappy, though, mostly becuase I was still unsettled from the museum and also because it gave me significant slack when telling my boss that I leave next Saturday (the 14th).
Pete: "Well, that's really fucking short notice." But he agreed to mail me my check and that was that.
Walked home after a talk with the 'rents. At home, I was immediately yelled at by Caroline for having left my tire and innertube on the carpet in the living room. Considering that both of us have been keeping our bikes (tire-side down) on that same carpet for 6 weeks and an innertube is vastly more clean than a tire, I had figured that it was fine do leave them there. I obliged, however, because I understand and respect her desire for a clean carpet, even if what I was doing would not dirty it.
I patched up the tire, talked more with the fam. Made an entry into my livejournal. Lost it. Made another and now I'm really ready for bed.
Getting up early tomorrow to make some Irish Soda Bread for the office.
Note: I misidentified friend Marcy Baskin as Marcy Benson in a previous post. Quorumcall regrets the error.