There is so much to see and do in Washington DC it is nearly overwhelming. We (okay, so I) picked four museums for the day. A bit ambitious but good as a starting point.
First stop, the Holocaust Museum. It was very crowded and we were surprised to see many families with young children (under 10) and wondered how a parent could possibly explain what the museum depicted. It was packed with startling film and photographic images and, for me, it felt like I’d seen them before in a movie. There was a boxcar that you walked through from one part of the museum to another with a sign that explained that a 100 or more people would be crammed inside “for transport.” I wondered about how the reality of the Holocaust experience could be demonstrated by putting 100 museum-goers into the car before letting them enter the next gallery. Probably a bad idea. I didn’t take any pictures inside. It was just too sad, too horrible. But I am glad to have visited.
One piece of reality that they have at the museum is that every visitor is asked to pick up an “identification card.” The card presents the story of a Holocaust survivor. Mine was of a little German girl from a wealthy family. Eerily, she shared a birthday date with Cliff, Dec. 31. Her father and grandfather were taken to Dachau, but somehow (I’m thinking there was a LOT of money involved) allowed to return. Two years later, the entire family (when Inge was 7 years old) was deported to a Jewish ghetto in Czechoslovakia. She recounts that everything was taken from them except the clothes they wore and her doll, Marlene. Cliff, by pure chance, had the ID card of a Dutch Jew from Amsterdam. He managed to evade the Nazi sweeps until 1943 (the Nazi’s invaded the Netherlands in 1940) and was sent to Auschwitz. When he developed appendicitis, he was “lucky” in that Nazi doctors wanted a young physician to see the removal of a nearly ruptured appendix. Most people who needed surgery were sent to the gas chambers.
We passed the late, great Environmental Protection Agency during our walk along the National Mall. It is lavishing gilded on building and security gates. Do you think that Scott Pruitt added it? We didn’t see any gilt on the Justice Department or even the U.S. Bureau of Engraving where they print the $$! And I got this neat shot of the Washington Memorial
The National Portrait Museum was a much cheerier place as you might imagine. We loved seeing Michele Obama’s portrait in person. This portrait is so popular, that the museum has directional signs leading you to it. Bill Clinton’s portrait was done by Chuck Close, one our our friend Roger’s favorite artists. It is quite striking and unusual. Walking around the gallery and reading the concise descriptions of each president’s term was like a mini-history lesson. Next time, I’m looking at them sequentially!
We skipped the Spy Museum (it looked more like a shop to sell spy equipment!) and didn’t make it to the Newseum. Next time!
