7/16/2012
The great summer adventure begins! Our mission: Find out
what all those Missouri license plates want to show me. Since most of
Patricia’s Missouri sites are relatively close to each other (except far off
Branson) the goal is to do all of Missouri in five days. Almost. Darn you,
Branson! One day, we will defeat you.
Of course, for us to get to Missouri we had to pass
through Indiana – the childhood home of Lincoln – and Illinois – the land of
Lincoln. Springfield, Illinois is the town most associated with Lincoln, so it
is the natural hub for Lincoln lovers everywhere. Laura was really excited
about going here – not.
Springfield is your typical rundown town, with the
pristinely preserved historic district dedicated to its famous citizen as its
only claim to fame. I don’t mean that to sound as derogatory as it may. It just
seems to be a sad fact for many of these small towns we’ve visited.
The home Lincoln lived in as he rose to national
attention and won the presidency is now run by the National Park Service. This
is always a plus, since these sites are typically free. Lincoln’s home is no
exception, although parking is weird. There is a self-service kiosk in the
parking lot asking for $2 an hour. Three separate people who I think may have
been alive when Lincoln was still splitting rails cut in front of me and then
couldn’t figure out how to use the machine. Oh well. Did I mention it was 99
degrees?
We had to wait around in the visitor’s center for about
twenty minutes waiting for the tour, which was good timing, since diapers had
been sufficiently filled. Laura and I were extremely impressed by all three
kids’ behavior on the six hour drive. They were excited to get out of the car,
though. Daniel and Philip had great fun with one of those relief-map thingees
of the town.
Philip then started to walk behind a man with cerebral palsy,
imitating him. Great.
While we waited, I asked the National Park guy about the
Lincoln Museum down the road. (Patricia oddly mentions the museum in this entry
and then allots it its own separate spot in the coveted 1000, so, of course, we
must go.) He seemed a little disgusted we would go there. The fancy Lincoln
Museum only opened in 2005, so I sensed a bit of rivalry on behalf of the
old-guard National Park guys. He said he couldn’t park there with his big
truck. He traded it in for a Ferrari.
When the tour started we were brought through Lincoln’s
house in typical “famous guy’s house” style. Usually, we don’t care for these
too much, but this one was good. It was short (about half an hour), and
efficiently informative. I think the problem with a lot of these house tours is
they feel the need to stretch it out. The Lincoln House does it right.
The only negative of the tour was a little kid on it with
us. You know the kind. He asks a cute question to the tour guide. He gets a
cute laugh. Now he must repeat this process every time the tour guide takes a
breath. Repeat after me, class: When the tour guide says, “Does anyone have a
question?” we all say, “No.”
We left sufficiently Lincolnized. As we were walking back
to the car, I overheard National Park guy telling another tourist about trading
in his big truck for a Ferrari.
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