staycation

Friend Jill has a new word she hates: Webinar.

My new word that I hate: staycation.

I hate it because it's what I've always done because I normally can't afford vacations. I've always joked that I live in our vacation. But that's always been a conscience choice. I'm fully aware that if I spend money in one place, I can't spend it somewhere else. And, frankly, I'm tired of spending it on the house.

But it makes me sad that a lot of Americans are being forced to stay home when they usually don't have to. Almost like the media pundits are saying, "Be good little sheep. Don't raise a ruckus now. Just go with it."

I do, however, get to take mini-vacations to see my mom every once in a while. Though that's gotten more difficult since we figured it costs $200 just to get there and back. And though I love my mom, New Baden is no oasis. Especially for the queer folk. A Google search finds that 0.02% of the households in New Baden are gay or lesbian. And though that translates to around 50 people, they're tough to locate unless they're wearing too much expensive cologne and have freshly highlighted hair.

Trenton, our neighboring town, has 0.00% gay and lesbian households.

Homophobes.

Last week I headed to Big Mama's. I lucked out because it was gay pride in St. Louis last weekend. And, ironically, I ran into one of New Baden's gays at the gas station in New Baden. I didn't know each other nor did I really speak but he was a very very, um, obvious gay.

Then I saw him at pride and pretended I'd never seen him before. I can be pretentious like that.

Lots of people in the gay community look down at Pride saying things like, "Those people don't represent me" or "The people who go to pride are the people who perpetuate the stereotypes about gays and lesbians."

Honestly, both of those statements could be true. If all I did was glance at pride, I wouldn't see many people who look like me. And the pictures of the parades that make it into newspapers usually show drag-queens, men dressed all in leather, and uber-skinny boys in girls' jeans. And I'm none of those things.

Stay awhile at pride and you'd notice lots of couples that look just like us. In fact, I sat next too a couple at the parade that reminded me of us.

But here's what I'm proud of. All those people that you see *in* the parade (the cross-dresser, the leatherfolk) are mirrored in the heterosexual community. Hetero's do just as much freaky shit as the gays. The Hetero's just don't have a parade. I'm proud that gays are out there saying, "Hey, this is who I am. Deal with it." and not hiding it in the bedroom where conservatives would like to keep it.

And just as I'm sure most straight people would agree that the people who join swinger's clubs or like to be stepped on by stilettos don't represent them, I'm sure they wouldn't dare suggest those people shouldn't be allowed to get married just because they enjoy something different from them.

OK, soapbox done.

I've been wanting to get up to Springfield, IL for a while to see all the Lincoln sites. I spent a day touring the *amazing* new Lincoln museum, Lincoln house, Lincoln law office, Old State Capitol and Lincoln Tomb.

For the past several summers I've been to Springfield to volunteer at a camp there. But I'd never gotten to see the sites. I'd seen them on an elementary field trip. But I remember being more concerned with photo-ops than learning anything on that field trip.

I'm a sucker for architecture and history. And I learned some fascinating things about what I saw in Springfield.

1. What you see inside the old state capitol building is only about 40 years old. The original interior (where Lincoln had been a legislator and laid in state) had actually been demolished over a hundred years ago for a building remodel into a courthouse. When the courts moved out, the state once again demolished the interior and put it back the way it was in Lincoln's day.

2. 2/3 of the building that Lincoln had his offices in is now gone. Luckily, the 1/3 that remains is the part in which Lincoln had his law offices. It was the most original of the buildings I saw. It still had the original plaster on the walls and original floors.

3. While the Lincoln home really is the house where Lincoln lived, very little of what you see today is original to Lincoln's time. Over the last 140 years, most of the siding has been replaced, the walls replastered, the wall paper recreated, the floors replaced and reinforced with steel (almost 250,000 people walk through the house every year.) and the furnishings approximated. When Lincoln left for Washington, he sold almost everything to a man who moved the furniture to Chicago... where it was destroyed in the great Chicago fire of 1871. The house is in such pristine condition now it looks like a giant doll house.

4. The Lincoln tomb is much grander now than when it was originally built. But it's still shy of what Mary Todd wanted. Mary wanted something larger, more grand, more ornate. But there just wasn't money. Instead of a marble interior, they had to use sandstone. Bronze statues that stand today were originally painted plaster. The marble and bronze were added as money allowed.

Believe it or not, I'm a sucker for patriotism. I still get goosebumps during the Star-Spangled Banner.

I spent the whole day learning about and walking in the steps of Lincoln. And then there I was, entering his final resting place. There was a group of what looked like junior high kids in the foyer of the tomb. After when the volunteer tomb guide was done with her spiel someone asks if the kids would sing again.

I wasn't in the mood to stand and watch them so I headed down the curving, marble-lined corridor towards the tomb.

Apparently marble is great at carrying the sound. Because as I slowly walked the red marbled hall, I could hear the echoing of the Battle Hymn of the Republic being sung in unison behind us. As I made our way towards the tomb, the choir was changing from unison, to two part harmony, then three part and so on.

Finally I stood in front of his sarcophagus, the choir, now in full harmony by the third verse, was echoing through the chamber.

I was the only one in the tomb and for no reason at all,  I started tearing up. I stared at his name on the sarcophagus thinking how the man behind that name had changed the world so dramatically and about how many people had died for the cause of that change.

I headed down the other hall leading back to the foyer as the choir was finishing up the fourth verse.

I hate to admit it, but it was amazing.

I've always thought we all need a soundtrack to accompany us everywhere we go. This just proved it.