Travel Journal 7:The Wonders of Concord, MA

Friday, August 7, 2009
7:21 p.m.
I’ve been totally slack in my journaling these past 36 hours. I only hope that I can remember all that has transpired since yesterday morning. We’ve packed so much into each day that my memory bank is overwhelmingly full.
We started out at the Longfellow house, which Harvin was especially excited about. We arrived just minutes before the next tour departed (we’ve had exceptionally good timing when it comes to tours). As we were given the ground rules, our guide—Abby—informed us that we could take pictures INSIDE the house so long as we didn’t use the flash (which I accidentally did a couple of times—oops!). Harvin and I were ecstatic! The chance to take photos inside a house museum presents itself so rarely that this opportunity was thrilling. (Yes, I realize we’re nerds. It’s okay.) Unfortunately, Kodie’s (Jess’ camera) batteries were dying, and my extras were in my bag, locked in a closet in the lobby. So I had to be careful to conserve his juice. Still, I got some pretty good shots.
After leaving Cambridge we stopped in Lexington to grab some lunch from McDonald’s (sweet tea for the first time in a week!) as we headed back to Concord. Have I mentioned that I LOVE Concord? I do—very much.
Our first stop was the Emerson house. While the house itself was quite nice, I wasn’t impressed with the logistics of the tour. People come in and join the tour in progress wherever it may be, then detach from the group once they make it back to wherever they began the tour. Additionally, the guides switched out every couple of rooms. The whole process just felt disjointed. And then there was the woman in our group who KEPT TOUCHING THINGS. There’s a certain amount of respect that house museums require—and one is that you don’t touch things—especially 150-year-old books. I swear, this lady ticked me off. Definitely not one of my favorite tours. Though I did enjoy envisioning the Emerson children running down the back stairs, yelling “Here comes fun” as Thoreau arrived at the house.
Next we stopped by the Minuteman National Historic Park visitor’s center—which Jordan would have loved—and the Paul Revere capture site. Again, the closeness of history was awe-inspiring as we stood on the spot where the “regulars” captured Revere, Dawes, and Prescott during their midnight ride to Concord.
The third stop in Concord was the Old Manse where both the Emersons and the Hawthornes lived. We were the only people on the tour. Our guide was FANTASTIC. Her name was Joan, she’d been a stand up comedienne in Vegas for twenty years, and she was a riot. She spoke of the Emersons and Hawthornes as if they were old friends, sharing juicy tidbits which I’m sure didn’t find themselves being told on regular tours. She even told us about a t-shirt idea the staff had, but that had been turned down by the trustees board. The tee’s slogan: “Hawthorne was a hottie” would be accompanied by the “angelic photo” of Hawthorne. *sigh* I’d wear that shirt. She told us they were going to have the shirts made anyway and that if we left our email addresses, she’d let us know when they were ready. (Yes, she quickly realized that we are diehard Hawthorne fans.) Awesome tour.
The last stop in Concord was sleepy Hollow Cemetery. We arrived just before sunset—the perfect setting for the end of our time in Concord. There, all the literary celebrities of Concord were laid to rest more than 100 years ago—Hawthorne, Thoreau, Alcott; and, of course the “sugar daddy of American literature”—Emerson. How poignant that they were not only neighbors in life, but remain neighbors still today. We left stones and pennies on the graves of Thoreau, Hawthorne, and Alcott; a branch—the ugliest—on Emerson’s boulder (for Dr. Thompson); we left these behind in homage to the great writers who have shaped our lives, our love for American literature.
After a few moments of reflection—and waiting for other r visitors to move on—we settled in to read to Hawthorne. We took turns reading to him, sitting by his tombstone, videoing ourselves to immortalize those moments. Haley began by reading both the introduction and conclusion of Hawthorne’s own “Ethan Brand” (a story which haunts every English major who has passed through Dr. Sepko’s lit theory class at NGU in the past six years or so); Harvin offered Longfellow’s poem “Hawthorne”—which was written as a tribute to the deceased author; and I concluded with an excerpt from another of Hawthorne’s short stories—“The Minister’s Black Veil.” Such wonderful memories that we will carry with us for many years to come.
As we descended Author’s Ridge, we were all quite silent. On the way back to the car, I concluded that leaving Sleepy Hollow—as well as Concord in general—was akin to leaving old friends behind, like saying goodbye. Having been a part of their world for two days, departing company was saddening—even though they’ve all been dead for more than 100 years.
Farewell, Concord.

10:15 p.m.
A quick recap before I crash for the night:
Today’s agenda specified that we check out the hotel in Danvers and head west to Amherst to visit The Homestead (Emily Dickinson’s home), as well as her brother’s house next door—The Evergreens. We were also planning to stop by the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art. Once in Amherst, we opted for the hour-and-a-half tour of “Emily Dickinson’s World”—and again, we were the only people on the tour. Our guide, Brooke, was about our age, perhaps a little older, and quite knowledgeable about Dickinson. The tour was great, but I’d imagined the house a bit different—more original/authentic, I guess. The house has passed through many hands over the years—it’s only been a museum for about six years—so very few of Emily’s things are left in the house. I’ve found that original furniture is one of my most important requirements for a good house museum. Next door, however, The Evergreens holds an abundance of original furniture and décor. It hasn’t been touched since Emily’s brother’s family lived there. The carpet is threadbare and the walls are faded, but it’s authentic.
After the tour, we walked through the town to West Cemetery where Emily is buried. I’m turning into such a grave-hunting nerd. A wrought iron fence surrounds the Dickinson family plot, keeping fans off the grave of the poet and her family, but near enough to satisfy her visitors. As we walked away from the grave, Harvin mentioned that the gate had been unlocked; we could’ve walked right in; however, there were several landscapers mowing in the vicinity, so we refrained from treading upon Emily Dickinson’s hallowed ground.
Next we had lunch at an upscale-casual restaurant called Judie’s in downtown Amherst. Then we browsed a couple of local bookshops. Our last stop was to be the E.C. museum, but we got back to the car just 15 minute before it closed. We weren’t too disappointed because this stop wasn’t high priority—it was just an extra we’d thrown in. So we drove on to our hotel in Hartford, CT; chilled for a bit, and had dinner at Ruby Tuesday. Twain house and the ASD tomorrow!