Sunday, June 27, 2010

Mario Bravo in the Hall of the Mountain King Ch 4

It was 90 degrees in Gettysburg when Michele set out for the battlefield. She’d checked the weather on her laptop and so wore white cargo shorts that reached to mid-thigh, and a white Fifinella baseball cap and T-shirt, which she’d picked up a couple of years ago when she’d visited the WASP museum in Sweetwater Texas.

The motel offered free shuttle buses to the battlefield, and Michele decided she would take that route, rather than choose the independence of her car, since the main focus of her articles was supposed to be for the traveler on a budget.

The shuttle bus was two-thirds full when it arrived at the Gettysburg Museum and Visitor Center. Entrance to the battlefield grounds was free, but to go through the museum cost money, and she paid the fee that and then spent several hours wandering through all the exhibits.

She picked up a free Park Map and Guide, but also purchased a copy of David Petruzzi’s Complete Battlefield Guide, and a couple of CDs. One featuring Civil War songs from both sides, the other, dramatized readings for all the speeches made regarding the war.

She also fed several pennies and a couple of dollars into a stretched penny machine to add to her stretched penny collection, a ball cap and a battlefield T-shirt, for her ball cap and T-shirt collections. She stowed her acquisitions into the miniature backpack she’d brought with her, and slung that over her shoulders as she walked.

She’d intended to spend only one day at the battlefield but now realized that was not going to be enough time. To fully grasp the impact of this pivotal battle of the Civil War, she’d have to stay here for at least a couple of days, probably three or four, in order to see everything, absorb everything.

Michele checked battery status and memory free on her Canon Digital Rebel SLR camera, and found them good. She’d taken a lot of photos inside the museum. Now she circled the exterior of the museum, taking shots from various angles. Finally, she set off briskly on the long walk to the Soldier’s National Cemetery. She wanted to see that first of all, before she continued to explore the grounds.

As she walked, she paid a bit of attention to her fellow tourists – lots of family groups. Very young children looking interested, teenagers looking bored. Young men. Old men. More men than women, but she noticed several single women also walking about.

Michele brought out her digital recorder and began to record her thoughts. She’d already made several comments while walking through the Museum, noting down names and events that she’d want to research further. Now she mused about the appearance of the park and the ease of getting from one spot to another, how informative the signs were, and so on.

Just as the museum had put her into a somber mood, so did the National Cemetery. She walked along the white tablets, reading the inscriptions. Sometimes a man’s name, other times just unknown, occasionally a number of unknown soldiers had been laid to rest in the same plot.

Michele checked her watch, and decided it was time to catch the next shuttle bus to return to her motel. She retraced her steps back toward the Museum and Visitor Center.

As she sat on a bench waiting for the shuttle bus, a man in his mid forties sat next to her.

“Your first time at Gettysburg?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes. There’s so much to take in…I…”

But at that exact instant, her bus rolled up. “Well, here’s my bus,” said Michele. “Nice talking to you.”

He looked so disappointed, but he only waved. “Nice talking to you.”

Michele grinned wryly as she took a comfy seat right at the front. If he’d been cute, she probably would have stayed there and talked to him…but he’d been too skinny…

There was an Arby’s next to her motel. Michele purchased a couple of roast beef sandwiches and some French fries, and dined in her room, drinking milk that she’d previously purchased and kept in the room’s mini-fridge. She spent her time downloading photos, shrinking them to size and titling them appropriately. She knew well from past experience that if she fell behind on this project by even a day…she’d never get caught up. So she always made it a practice to get that kind of work out of the way each night.

Work done for the evening, Michele took a long, hot bath, then relaxed in bed, reading through the guide book she’d acquired earlier in the day. She decided she would do the driving tour, using her own car.

Then, depending on her mood, she’d either visit the battlefield sites for another day, or head down into Virginia to begin her quest for the caverns.

Before going to bed, Michele checked her email. Nothing of any interest...mostly spam.

However...Michele pursed her lips. If she was going to Virginia...why not look up an old friend? It had been over a year since she'd seen a friend she'd first in Germany while they'd both been attending high school in Germany, and remained friends - if of the long-distance variety - ever since. If she remembered right, he lived near Fredericksburg. Perhaps he'd have some time to drive over to Luray and go through the caverns with her.

Well, she'd send him an email invitation, and see what he'd have to say.

After sending the invite, Michele switched off her computer, rolled over, and fell asleep.


The Gettysburg Address
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

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