Of Muskets and Memories, Part One

First of all, I just have to say how weird it is to be absent from the blogosphere for two weeks! But I'm back now, well-rested, museum-ed out, and with those few extra pounds that creep on when Rum Swizzle becomes one of your main food groups... and s'mores becomes the other.

We had the opportunity to go to Philadelphia during our vacation, and I am so glad we did. We ate lunch at the highly recommended City Tavern, and loved it, in part because they actually let us in early when they saw us hanging around.

From Philadelphia

Also, the server, dressed in Colonial period clothes, happily played Rock, Paper, Scissors with Owen, and how can you not love that?

We spotted this sleeping lion as we walked toward Independence Hall:

From Philadelphia

And then came one of the highlights of the whole trip. It started small, with just a fife and drumming in the distance. Then we turned a corner, peeked into a large green space, and this gentleman waved us in:

From Philadelphia

A captain in the Continental Army he turned out to be, and guess who was one of his most enthusiastic recruits?

From Philadelphia

Yes, that is Luke there on the far right side. Here is my absolute favorite picture from our trip, and possibly ever:

From Philadelphia

The bayonet charge - I think largely because of this, the Captain field-promoted Luke to Corporal!

From Philadelphia

From Philadelphia

Special red 'corporal' musket in hand, new stripes fluttering in the breeze, you can almost see Luke thrumming with excitement in this picture. Talk about bringing history alive...

From Philadelphia

Owen was somewhat less-inclined to run off and join the Army.

In all honesty, Independence Hall was kind of a penultimate experience after all the excitment of the muster. And, I kept cracking up because, whenever I looked at the actual chairs where our Founding Fathers sat, I could think only of Susan at In The Kitchen's recent post about Thomas Jefferson, poking gentle fun at his future countrymen for revering these relics from the past.

From Philadelphia

Truly though, my best memory of Philadelphia came as we were heading back to our car. While waiting for a light to change, Corporal Luke tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to a homeless person sitting on the ground up next to a building behind us. His sign read "Homeless Vet, Any Help Appreciated." Luke's big eyes looked meaningfully from me, to the man, and back to me, until finally I asked, "would you like to give that man some money?" Wordlessly, he shook his head yes and when I handed him some change (I wish, so much, that it had been more), Luke walked back over to the man and solemnly placed the money in his cup. The man looked up to him, nodded his thanks, and then over to me, and nodded once more - the combination of gratitude and pride in his expression nearly brought me to tears.

I was raised to ignore the homeless - but, I must note, I was also raised to feel empathy for them, and to help them by other means, with donations to charities, shelters, and soup kitchens. I think my folks feared for my safety and also felt that any money I gave to a homeless person on the street would go to support a drinking habit, and would therefore be a waste. But this man, and my son's earnest desire to help him, caused me to feel ashamed at how blithely I had walked past him.

I am so thankful that Luke did not follow his mother's lead.