The 10-minute tourist

My eyes have been devouring pages about the American Revolution for the last couple months (going back to Ellis' "Founding Brothers" and more recently, McCullough's "1776" and now "John Adams)" so it should be no surprise that they saw the world around me today in an old, new light.

Still, I was surprised as I made my way to a workshop this afternoon in lower Manhattan. Emerging from the subway at Stone Street and Broadway, the sight of Battery Park no longer evoked images of Madonna's pyramid jacket and Roseanna Arquette hitting her head. Rather, the first thing I imagined were British ships, the Phoenix and the Rose, racing up the Hudson before crowds of awe-struck Continental Army soldiers and a helpless, frustrated George Washington.

Running my usual 10-15 minutes late, there was no time to pause and soak in the area's historic aura. (Yes, in spite of the yellow flourescent glow from Au Bon Pain and McDonald's, there are many corners in lower Manhattan where one can be transported back to a simpler time.) As I rushed down Pearl Street, I noticed a large colonial building and made a mental note to check it out after the workshop.

Turns out, the building was none other than the Fraunces Tavern -- the heart of the Revolution in New York City (as a meeting place for the Sons of Liberty before the war and the site of Washington's farewell address in 1783). I've walked by this building at least 20 times before in my life but it wasn't until today that my brain made the connection.

For 10 minutes, I stood in amazement -- it was as though I'd never seen it before. And for 10 minutes, I was a tourist in a city I've lived in for 8 years.

[Note: People who live in NYC go to great lengths to avoid looking like a tourist. It starts by wearing the "Manhattan uniform" (i.e. all black) for the first year you're here, walking faster while appearing disinterested, etc. This front devolves to a simple exasperated grunt at tourists who take up entire swaths of sidewalk while examining their blanket-sized maps of the city.]

Anyway, it was 10 minutes before I finally crossed the street to look more closely at the tavern's facade. Feeling the cold brick with an ungloved hand, I closed my eyes and wished I could open them to see for just one minute what the street around me might have looked like then. A taxi's horn jolted me back to reality and 2008 where my stomach was impatiently yearning for a Chipotle salad from around the corner.


A photo I took of the Fraunces Tavern with my BlackBerry (a REAL tourist would've used a 35mm Canon Rebel)

While reading "John Adams" on the train home, a cool kid in my head threatened to kick my ass. I started to wonder, "Am I becoming one of those history dorks? You know, the kind that show up on Flag Day to re-enact a battle or something? How close am I to dressing up as Abigail Adams to give tours of a field Alexander Hamilton once took a crap in? Oh. My. God. Those people are like 2nd cousins of Trekkies and Star Wars 'tards! Am I on a slippery slope to geekdom?"

Nah, it's just a phase. Next month, I'll move on to some other subject (Dan's been campaigning for fiction and the "Youth in Revolt" book he got me for Christmas -- it's got the word "revolt" in it so should be an appropriate segue). Just in case, maybe I'll make it a point to visit the "cool" section at Barnes & Noble and get a book about heroin or Chloe Sevigny.

Whatever comes next, my perspective is forever changed. Old buildings are new, familiar places are foreign. Beyond the "great hookah bar here," "passable late-night grub over there" and "that Dunkin Donuts never makes my coffee light enough," another layer has been added to my mental map of NYC. If it makes me a dorky history buff or annoying tourist every now and then, I'm cool with it.

(but if I start wearing FDNY hoodies or churning my own butter, please stage an intervention...thanks!)

Shop 'til you drop a history lesson

It was one thing to live in Orlando for a year without once visiting Disney; it's quite another to live in NYC for 7 years and not once visit a single historic site. Even more sad than that is how I came to realize my ignorance of the area's incredibly rich history: I was shopping.

On Sat., Jeremy and I did our bi-annual "yes, we really are poor" reality check: a drive out to Mendham, NJ, for pub grub and then The Mall at Short Hills for "silly bourgeois upstart, are you looking for a price tag?" Along the way, I saw many gross things (mangled deer on the side of the road, Newark, etc) but one sign in particular got me thinking: "Washington's Headquarters." That's all it said on the side of route 24 -- typically cryptic NJ signage. I guess they mean, "exit here if you'd like to see one of George Washington's many headquarters from the American Revolution."

In light of how much time I'd just spent looking for a Coldstone ice cream shop at Short Hills (they don't have one! I'm starting a petition!), I suddenly felt very stupid for not making an effort to see a single brick laid in the tri-state area during this country's founding.

The realization sank in today when I met Shay for brunch at the Cheesecake Factory out in Huntington (Long Island). In addition to the typical LI strip mall/Starbucks/strip mall/gas station scenery, I noticed signs and stores named "Whitman." A pattern started to emerge and by the time I got to brunch, I realized I was in the heart of Walt Whitman's birthplace (the sign across from the "Walt Whitman Mall" said so).

How did I not know this? I've studied "Leaves of Grass"...surely my Norton American Lit Anthology mentioned that Whitman also bought chinos at the Gap. Seriously, I didn't know Whitman was from LI (or that he lived most of his life in Brooklyn!). My ability to live -- and, of course, shop -- in such close proximity to history while being so ignorant of it is frightening.

Yes, naming a mall after one of America's most anti-commercial literary giants may be a cruel disrespect, but it's okay for 2 reasons: 1) Whitman would've LOVED Abercrombie & Fitch; and 2) it alerts ignoramuses like me to sites of historical significance.



Maybe I'm being too hard on myself. I mean, isn't history everywhere? Even when I was living in Coral Springs, FL (ew, I just threw up a little), surely there was something of historical significance nearby? Hmmm. On second thought, pro'ly not. The place was a bug/gator-infested swamp just 20 years prior to my arrival. But it's hard to forgive myself, especially when I make such an effort to seek out history when I travel, read nothing but books about history and was so moved by my visit to DC that I cried on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.

Actually, I was briefly inspired to check out local history in mid-'07 after reading "Founding Brothers: The Revolutionary Generation," a really great book by Joseph Ellis. One of the chapters is dedicated to the Hamilton-Burr duel that took place on the cliffs of the Hudson (about where Weehawken, NJ, is today). That got me thinking, "hmmm, maybe I should check out..." but then I got distracted by a shiny object.

So, that's a New Year's resolution for 2008: see at least 3 historic sites in NY/NJ/CT/RI/MA (any one of the states I'm in throughout the year -- shouldn't be hard to fit some field-trippy sight-seeing in, right?).

Addendum
Just remembered that Coral Springs has some historical significance beyond being partly to blame for the Everglade's destruction: woolly mammoth bones were uncovered while they were building the community I'd later live in (Parkside townhomes).
http://www.coralsprings.org/history/fullstory.cfm?articleid=10517