Trolling the Mall (the national mall, that is...)

So this afternoon on pretty much the spur of the moment, I asked Charlie if he wanted to go see the National Christmas Tree in DC.

I expected a rolling of the eyes (like I got from Rick, the oldest...) with the expression that says, "Oh, thrills, another pine tree..." Instead, he started dancing around and bouncing off the walls, oh goody, goody, gonna go see Washington, maybe we'll see the President, maybe we'll see the Washington Monument, maybe we'll....

Okay, I officially qualify for "bad mother" status now. It struck me that this child has now lived with me for coming up on two years, and I have never taken him to Washington DC, which is only an hour away, but in the other direction from where we usually travel. (Truth to tell, I haven't been to WDC in years myself, mainly because I've been too lazy to figure out the Metro train system, and I despise driving there--the city planners were certifiably insane, IMHO.)

So, we drove to Greenbelt, parked, and figured out the Metro. It actually wasn't bad--the hardest part was figuring out the fare (which I still somehow managed to screw up and had money left over on the SmartCard).

On the trip in, he was studying the map, and started laughing. When I gave him a quizzical look, he pointed to the New York Ave./Gallaudet station and said, "The map is wrong. Everyone knows Gallaudet isn't in New York. It's in Washington." So I explained that the Ave. means the same as road, and that many roads in Washington were named after states. I pointed out a few others, and he nodded. The light bulb was on, so I sat back and relaxed. But it struck me that, given his background, that little episode showed remarkable critical thinking on his part. He wasn't willing to accept something that he thought was wrong just because it was in print. He had to question it.

We finally got to DC and emerged from underground, found a street map board, and figured out which way we needed to go. About half a block up, we ran across a huge bronze circle embedded in the sidewalk, and it had a picture of Helen Keller engraved in it along with an abbreviated bio. These things were embedded in the sidewalk every few yards, and Charlie would start eagerly looking for the next one, try to read it and figure out who it was, and then make me tell him who it was and what they were famous for. It's a good thing we had to turn off that street after a few blocks, or we would have never made it to the national tree!

And all the while, Charlie is looking up overhead in amazement at how tall the buildings are and how they're all white marble. He finally looked at me and said, "Baltimore lousy. DC buildings strong." While I think Baltimore would tend to disagree, I do agree that DC is more impressive, with its use of marble, while Baltimore seems to be modernizing. Charlie is not impressed by modern; he obviously likes the old look.


At the point where we turned, Charlie was absolutely convinced we were standing right in front of the White House. After all, the building was imposing-looking, and it had big white columns. Well, okay, but that describes about half the buildings in Washington DC. No, this isn't the White House, Charlie. It's the Treasury Building. This is where they make money. Yes, there are a LOT of cops here. Charlie is not yet sure whether to be in awe of cops or to fear them. He was very afraid when he first got here, but I explained that they were here to protect and help us (nobody say Rodney King, okay?), and he's relaxed a little, but still not completely buying it.

By this point we can see the national tree, so we head in that direction. He was very excited when we rounded a corner and could finally see the front of the White House. It was probably useless, but we took pictures anyway. It was already dark, and I know nothing about night photography. Come to think of it, I know nothing about day photography, either...

And just as I was telling him to give up and come look at the tree because we would not see the President, a chopper comes roaring overhead.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but the airspace around the WH is some sort of protected no-fly zone, so no one but the prez's helicopter can do that, right? Of course, it didn't exactly land in the front yard, so we never saw anyone get out or in. But still, Charlie was ecstatic, believing we had just "seen" the President.

We traipsed through the tree display. It was gorgeous. There are smaller trees all around it, one for each state and territory, and each is decorated with ornaments made in that state. There's a train village around the big one. At the far end of the whole display is a yule log pit to warm people up, and off to one side is a concert shell wtih bleachers where a men's choir is performing Christmas music. They were on their last two songs, which I interpreted for Charlie, and he got to see the playful side of Christmas music, because after they finished the last song (Let There Be Peace on Earth), they did an encore of "We Wish You A Merry Christmas," going into double time in the middle and legato at the end. Of course, there was no way I could keep up in the middle, so I flubbed over that to give Charlie the idea of how fast they were going, and I really hammed up the ending being drawn out. He loved it.


The whole time we were "doing" the tree, he had been glancing over his shoulder, sneaking peeks at the Washington Monument behind us. He finally said he wanted to walk over to it. I had already checked, and the trips up to the top ended at 5p, so there was no way we could go up it, but he didn't care, he just wanted to get near it, so off we hiked. We huffed and puffed our way up the hill, and I got a shot or two of him standing against the wall of it.

Then he looked to his left, and his eyes got big. He had just seen his HERO!

When Charlie first came to America and started school at the Columbia campus of the Maryland School for the Deaf, his very first social studies lesson was a unit on Abe Lincoln since he started in the middle of a school year and his class was already up to the Civil War. He was so proud to come home and discuss with me how slavery was bad and Abe Lincoln had freed the slaves because he believed all men were created equal. He had even had to write a letter to Abe Lincoln.


He's been fascinated by good ole Abe ever since. And now, here he is, what looks like just steps away from the guy.

Deep breath...yeah, okay, we can go see Abe. (Keep in mind, it is nighttime and pitch black out here.) Off we go for another hike. I was actually feeling pretty good, not too cold, not too tired, good night for a stroll. Charlie didn't realize just how far this really was. Halfway there, he spots a bench by the water and says he wants to sit. Hey, wait a minute. I'm old, and YOU'RE tired??? Yeah, want to sit a minute. Okay, in his defense, he's had a nasty cold and sore throat the last couple of days, so that probably had something to do with it. After we rested up, we started off yet again. Before we got there, though, we went through the new World War Two memorial. That was simply stunning. Very impressive.

Charlie was just in awe of Abe. He hadn't quite realized just how BIG that statue was. I interpreted the speech on the wall for him (four score and seven years ago...glad I still remembered how many years in a score!), and we went in the bookstore, which was still open, oddly enough, and bought some postcards.

When we left and started towards the Jefferson Memorial (hey, might as well do it ALL, right?), we ran into a black wall. Since it is dark, all walls looked black, but this was REALLY black. And, of course, the first thought that popped into my brain is VietNam Wall. I had found it (by accident) once before while in DC. But this was different, they had added stuff. There was a garden area in front of it with a bunch of white statues of soldiers in jungle type rain gear, carrying their comms equipment and weapons, obviously out on patrol in the jungle. Their faces were really expressive and haunting. Then we got to the wall itself, and I got really confused. The names were gone. No names on the VietNam wall? Something funny here...maybe around the other side? We went around the other side, and etched in the marble on that side, hard to read in the dark but in very large letters, were the words "Korean War Memorial." I felt like an idiot. This didn't exist the last time I was in DC. (Told ya it had been years!) I did some light research when we got home and found out it had been done in 2000. That explains it. From what I could tell in the dark, though, it was very nicely done. Those statues, being such a stark while, simply glowed in the dark. Very haunting.

We finally found the basin area. Didn't walk all the way around it to the Jefferson Memorial--Charlie was hungry (after all, dinner was all of two hours ago) and the area we'd been tramping through was absolutely deserted. Very few tourists, NO vendors of any kind. I promised him we'd come back to this one in the springtime during the cherry blossom festival during the day. (ChinaBoy likes flowers....)

We headed back towards the tree, and found some street vendors where I could buy him a hot dog and a hot pretzel. That oughtta hold him for another 20 minutes or so. (I swear, the boy is a bottomless pit!) I started hearing some drumming. Sounded a little like someone beating on bongo drums. Curious, we headed for the sound. It turned out to be a man who had set up a bunch of paint cans in upside down stacks of varying heights so that they would have varying pitches, and he was just banging away at them with two great big mallet-looking thingies. Eyes weren't even open, he was just in the zone, making his own special music like he didn't have a care in the world. It was so loud that Charlie could even feel the beat and was having fun watching the guy. We had found our very own Little Drummer Boy!

We finally headed back towards the Metro. Passed the Treasury Building again, and as we passed the cop standing outside one of the doors, Charlie asked me if there were cops all over the inside, too, keeping an eye on the people who are making the money. What you asking me for, child? There's a cop standing right there. Go ask him! Charlie's eyes got big, and then he looked at the cop, and I guess he decided the guy didn't look too formidable, so he marches up to the guy and asks his question. The cop just looked at him with a serious grim countenance, and then slowly did a repeated nodding of his head. Charlie backed away slowly, like he was afraid the guy was going to come after him, and beat feet back to the Metro station.

That pretty much ended our little adventure. Charlie had an absolute blast, and we both slept really well that night, given that we had just spent 4-5 hours and countless steps hitting (almost) every major memorial in the DC area.