They have been taking us down to the new hospital in small groups for orientation and I thought I would share some of my pictures with you. It is a very impressive building!
Ann and Robert H. Lurie Children's Hospital of Chicago, opening May/June 2012
I could kick myself. Here's why:
My husband and I have been watching Ken Burns THE WAR series, which depicts how World War II affected Americans who fought overseas and those who remained at home. Like almost everything created by Ken Burns, it is really amazing. One very interesting aspect of THE WAR series is how it touches upon our shared experience as first and second generation descendents of those who lived through that time period. We've all met World War II veterans, and they weren't just the next door neighbors who passed us casually on the sidewalk from time to time. They were our grandparents and parents- men and women who must have possessed more courage and strength than we can even imagine.
The part about me kicking myself? Well, while watching THE WAR, all I can think about is how desperately I wish I could sit down with my grandparents and ask them what it was all like. And to think I COULD have done this is what is so, oh, I don't know, frustrating? Disappointing? Dissatisfying?
My maternal grandfather passed away very shortly after my 13th birthday, and I realize that it is typically not in a 12 year old's list of pursuits to sit down and record someone's firsthand experience with a war that occurred 50 years earlier. He tried to tell me about it as well, during his final months as his heart struggled to supply his brain with enough oxygen. "I'm sitting here in my naval uniform," he explained over the phone. "I can't wait for you to see it." My grandpa was a lieutenant aboard the USS O'Bannon (pictured below, my grandpa is at the far right). The O'Bannon received more battle stars for WWII service than any other destroyer in the war, according to trusty Wikipedia. She escorted the USS Missouri into Tokyo Bay for the peace signing at the war's end. My grandfather was THERE.
I desperately want to talk to my maternal grandmother too about those war days. My grandfather left for the Pacific just months before their first child was born. Here I am, stressing over the possible evils of crib bumpers while I await the birth of my baby, when my grandmother went through those last months of pregnancy with her husband overseas, unsure if he would ever return. And my grandpa didn't return until my uncle was 22 months old!
I don't think that any of us today can adequately imagine how the chronic uncertainties of war must have affected people back then, as they dealt with the day-to-day stress and bad news that stretched out into years. In York, England, my paternal grandfather pointed out to us where in his university they went during air raids. It must have been so frightening to live in the UK, putting up with the blackout, rationing, and the mass casualties that resulted from the Blitz. My grandpa ended up stationed in Burma, while my paternal grandmother joined the women's branch of the Royal Air Force. After the war they arranged to reunite beneath a clock tower at a train station, where they stood side-by-side for quite a while before recognizing each other after all the years they had been apart.
I consider myself so unbelievably fortunate to be a descendent of such amazingly brave individuals. Despite my regrets that I did not pursue these conversations with each of my grandparents, I have been one lucky person to have seen firsthand how the war years sculpted them into the incredible individuals that I knew and will always, always love.
My husband and I are a good match for each other because we both thoroughly enjoy walking through old cemeteries. Our choice to go to Boston was largely influenced by my memory of the amazing Revolutionary War era gravesites there. Not really. Eh, sort of. Who am I kidding?
Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the Children's Hour.
I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet,
The sound of a door that is opened,
And voices soft and sweet.
From my study I see in the lamplight,
Descending the broad hall stair,
Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,
And Edith with golden hair.
A whisper, and then a silence:
Yet I know by their merry eyes
They are plotting and planning together
To take me by surprise.
A sudden rush from the stairway,
A sudden raid from the hall!
By three doors left unguarded
They enter my castle wall!
They climb up into my turret
O'er the arms and back of my chair;
If I try to escape, they surround me;
They seem to be everywhere.
They almost devour me with kisses,
Their arms about me entwine,
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!
Do you think, o blue-eyed banditti,
Because you have scaled the wall,
Such an old mustache as I am
Is not a match for you all!
I have you fast in my fortress,
And will not let you depart,
But put you down into the dungeon
In the round-tower of my heart.
And there will I keep you forever,
Yes, forever and a day,
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,
And moulder in dust away!
_____________________
We toured the Longfellow House in Cambridge, Massachusetts on Sunday and it was definitely one of the favorite parts of our Boston weekend. Not only was it the home of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, but it served as General Washington's headquarters during the British occupation of Boston for 9 months in 1775-1776. Yet another place around Boston that satisfies both your historical AND literary sweet tooth (does that make them sweet teeth?). I mean, check out this door. This is the original door and key to the home. George Washington opened this door. He touched that actual key! And many years later Longfellow, Emerson, and Hawthorne passed through that same doorway. So cool.
The tour was only $3 and went every hour, which is why I'd rank this very highly in one's consideration of partaking in an organized tour during a Boston trip. Even if you aren't familiar with Longfellow or the historical story of the house- I think most people would enjoy this. Our tour guide looked so much like Luke Wilson. You can imagine Luke Wilson as a good tour guide, right? He was a great storyteller and magically minimized the distractions of a few people in our tour group who were just so strange! Jim said he almost text me mid-tour to say that he bet that they did each other's highlights. They were a pretty special bunch (we couldn't figure out if they were boyfriend-girlfriend or brother-sister. That ain't good). Here is Longfellow's study (the only room he was allowed to decorate himself, we were informed!).
From there you step into the great room of the home, where the horrific accident occurred that caused Longfellow's wife's death in 1861. I consider this a fairly uplifting site, so I won't include the details. Thinking about this while standing there in those same rooms was really eerie. Afterwards, Longfellow was so grief-stricken that he remained home bound until 1868. The Cross of Snow references this picture of his wife 18 years after her death, and it still hangs over the fireplace in their bedroom. It was one of his only love poems. During those years, he began translating Dante's Divine Comedy from Italian into English. The man knew so many languages. Apparently by studying in a country for just one month he was able to learn and read the language. I consider this insane, especially when my tried and true "Hola. Me llamo Lindsay. Soy una consejera genetica de la Children's Memorial. Un momento por favor, voy a llamar un interprete" is the only thing I can muster from FOUR (count that 1-2-3-4) semesters of Spanish in college. Longfellow taught foreign languages (Italian, French, Spanish, etc) on the side to Harvard students at a time when students only learned Latin and Greek, and the beauty of it is that he proceeded with this without first getting Harvard's approval. I think I would have liked Longfellow, even if I would have failed his classes.
This is where G.W. slept!
It took me almost all morning to regain my bearings after taking 2 days off work. Part of me feels it's sometimes not even worth it to miss work because of how much more you end up working before and after taking that time off! But then at the same moment you realize how much you'd miss if you never took these excursions. Why are we working this hard anyways??!
The movie Public Enemies opens in theaters this week and I wanted to share these pictures that we took back in May, 2008. Being a true story, several scenes were shot in the actual location where events occurred, including the Biograph Theater in Lincoln Park. Word spread like wildfire when the production crew came in and converted this section of Lincoln Avenue into how it appeared in 1934. We and several hundred others flocked here on that Friday afternoon to catch a glimpse of the action. Production vehicles and trailors were parked up and down Halsted, and many cool vintage cars were brought in. They created artificial storefronts, laid street car tracks, and even sawed away all the metal parking meters- because obviously those weren't around in 1934 (heck, they can't even get them to work in 2009)!
On a separate night, they shot scenes just down the street from our apartment building at Pine Grove and Surf. All evening we kept hearing continuous rounds of tommy gun fire. It was really loud! Apparently Johnny Depp even paid a visit to our corner Red Hen bakery for a coffee. For all the hype the production created around this area, the movie had better be good!
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