In Flanders Fields
the poppies blow
Between the crosses,
row on row …
Such began our morning. When we walked into the WWI Museum and crossed a glass bridge which spanned a field of 9,000 poppies (each representing 1,000 combatant deaths during the war), it set the tone for an experience which was thought-provoking and very, very moving.
I loved it, Joe loved it, Jonathan loved it, but Timothy … he got a little glassy-eyed. He learned a lot, mainly because we kept calling him over and spoon-feeding him bits of information: WWI began in 1914 with the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand of Austria; the poppy became the flower of remembrance; the war was fought in the trenches; yada, yada, yada.
After a while we could see information was going in one ear and right out the other … no processing whatsoever.
But later, when we visited the farm of Jesse James, he perked right up. Outlaws! Bank robbers! Murderers! Then he got to see some cool stuff (his words): the boots Jesse James was wearing when he was shot, his saddle, and the fire bomb that severed his mother’s arm. Timothy also saw a chamber pot and learned what it was used for.
Uhm ... remind me to lock up my pots and pans when we get home. I’m just saying.
And on that note I’ll sign off for tonight.
|Murder, robbery, and outlaws turned out little guy chatty.|
|The words on Jesse James' tombstone were written by his mother, Zerelda.|
Warm and fuzzy she wasn't. Yikes.
|Dining al fresco (this weather has been great!) at the Crown Center.|