Saturday, March 22, 2014

Spring Break 7: Salem and Boston, and back to Athens

>>>Challenge: Will you find the link to a beloved icon of the 80s in this?<<<

Here’s the somewhat late last account of my spring break experience. I’m deeply ashamed of my negligent behaviour. And I’ll probably catch up with some more posts.

Salem, MA
Leaving Concord, NH, on March 7, Julia and I drove to Salem, MA, to check out some history and witches. You know—Nathaniel Hawthorne, early colony, Salem Witch Trials of 1692—that stuff. We saw a pretty good documentary in the visitor center which, I think, belongs to the Salem Maritime National Historic Site. What I found pretty neat was to see the famous custom house that Nataniel Hawthorne worked in, and in which The Scarlet Letter’s frame narrative is set. (Didn’t see The House of the Seven Gables, though). However, back to the witch trials! The fact that people have been executed here in colonial times might today be the most relevant factor of the town’s economy. We were told that certain witch museums in Salem are more concerned with entertainment than history. So, a serious and cruel historical event like the Salem Witch Trials is the reason for which tourists (including the both of us) come to town and might then enjoy getting their fortunes told by a psychic, or shopping in a witchcraft store, or buying a small witch riding a broom to hang onto their cars’ rear view mirrors. Julia and I didn’t do those things, but maybe you get my point…In telling our histories, we often tend to heavily commercialize them. I became very aware of that in Salem, but it’s true for countless other places. When these histories are histories of suffering, intolerance, and persecution, I think it becomes problematical. To make a living by turning the rope into a keychain…I’ll keep thinking about that. If you are ever close by, visit Salem. It’s worth it, and maybe you’ll feel different than I did.

New England Holocaust Memorial
After Salem, we returned our rental car and visited Boston. One afternoon is too little time to seriously explore the city’s incredible amount of history, but we saw some interesting sights, churches and monuments. They’re everywhere. Here, the balance between telling actual history and marketing it seemed a bit more in favor of what actually happened. Boston also is home to the very impressive New England Holocaust Memorial. It’s basically a granite footpath with quotes and horrible historical numbers carved along the sides. But you also have to walk through six glass chambers (they are actually towers, felt kinda constrictive, though). And in writing 'glass chambers' I first realize how horribly close the written word brings me to what these things symbolize. You had to walk through a constantly emanating steam in these chambers. A somehow brilliantly strange quality of this monument is that it can shock you about your own behavior. Some people mistook the memorial for an art object without any historical reference when they took photos of their friends standing in front of it smiling, thumbs up, before they actually approached it and realized what horrors it commemorates.




Boston at Night
The next day, after saying good bye to Julia and Nicole (who would spend the week around Boston and NYC with Julia), I had to fly back to Columbus, OH. Getting there wasn’t too much of a hassle although my flight from Philly to Columbus was delayed because the crew was late (probably hangin’ out in a bar). But figuring out how to get from Columbus to Athens had given me a good amount of stress earlier because the couple of options I had had had not worked out (is that grammatically correct? I wanna risk it. Dear prospective employers, please notice my courage!). Luckily, however, so many OU students are wearing OU attire that I was able to identify two groups of people at the Philly airport as Bobcats. And the second group did actually drive back to Athens, and they still had a seat in their car. I was very very grateful for that. They might have prevented me from a night at the airport. But after the 1,600 miles that Julia and I had driven that week, this one-hour drive felt like an eternity. I needed a shower and my bed to get ready for the upcoming week.

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