We arose early this morning in order to get downtown in the midst of the morning rush, and indeed we did, with several minutes to spare. Getting our tickets for the nine o’clock ride up, we wandered about the museum that is underneath at what is officially the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial. Truly one of the most unhelpful "museums" I’ve ever seen, obviously constructed for crowds milling about waiting to ride the tram. Nice artificats, including a stuffed buffalo, an enormous pilot wheel and animatronic figures, but with hardly any identifying labels and not discernible order. An attractive space but absolutely useless educationally.

Then it was time to go up! All I knew was that it was a "tram."

"Pod" is more like it, and if you’re claustraphobic, do not try this at home (or in St. Louis). You board one of, I think, 8 little pods behind sliding, whooshing metal doors. Each pod has five groovy mod seats:

…and then they crank it up, and up you go! It takes about five minutes. There’s some explanatory tape playing in the background, but no way can you hear it because of the cranking gears laboriously hauling you upward. You stumble out when you get to the top, and have to take a few more steps…and then there you are!

It’s narrow up there (of course) and crowded – the windows are long and narrow with a fairly wide slanted ledge you have to lean on in order to see out. Or if you’re twenty months, you can lie down on it, which is restful, as you ponder the sight of the Cardinals’ recent humiliations.

The only unnerving point to us was, we all agreed, that when we first got to the height and were standing there, we thought we could feel the thing sway a bit. (And it does have a give of 9 inches, I think I read). But after that, it’s fine – it’s nowhere near as weird an experience as the CN Tower in Toronto, the main observation deck of which is at about 1200 feet (the Gateway Arch is 630 feet high.) and has a glass floor for your er, enjoyment.

We then trooped over to the City Museum, which lived up to its reputation. What a quirky, marvelous place – three floors, plus an outdoors, full of art made of the literally found objects of the shoe factory which the building used to be, as well as fantastic creations filling every space from floor to ceiling and inbetween of fish, monsters, dinosaurs. Not a nook or cranny wasted, the total effect of a place willing to be rather mythical and powerful, a little haunting, but not too scary, daring you to go here and there, to try this, to jump higher, to see what’s around the next corner and to make stuff as cool as the things you’re jumping on. I’m not going to attempt to describe every aspect of it  – you can check out the website to figure it out. Let’s just say that it’s the anti-children’s science museum, which was just fine by me, since I hate Children’s Science Museums.

(short version for new readers: I’ve been taking children to science museums for 20 years. I don’t think I’ve ever seen more than 1 or 2 kids on any of those occasions do anything but race around madly, randomly punching buttons to see what the effect is, then racing around to the next thing. No one reads the explanations unless they’re forced to, and I’ve never felt that a lick of learning was going on. Some have told me that the Exploratorium in San Francisco is an exception – that something about it is more inviting to children to actually slow down, figure things out and learn something…)

There’s a great acquarium, which had just as quirky a feel as the rest of the place. Tons (well not tons, but lots) of fish and reptiles, many of which you were invited to touch, but the set-up had the feel of an marvelously cluttered pet store, where, as with the rest of the place, surprises awaited around every corner. 

(the photo of Joseph with the bas-relief of St. George is from the City Museum. Various architectural relics are scattered throughout, including this one, and a few gargoyles.)

Michael finished his lunch around 1:30, then came and picked us up, and we were off. Not straight home, though. Michael decided to add to his personal collection of Lincoln homesite visits, since he’d spotted the Lincoln Log Cabin historical site a bit off the interstate.

Turns out that Abraham Lincoln never actually lived there – although he visited! But the site is important because it was his father’s final place of settlement in Illinois, and his father and stepmother are buried in a church cemetery nearby. The original cabin isn’t there either – it was dismantled and sent to the 1893 Chicago Exposition and then lost. But not to worry – this park is one of those hidden treasures you find across the country, led there by nondescript brown markers. There’s a decent museum in the visitor’s center, and the place is a living history farm, circa 1845, with actor/interpreters who work the summer months. We got there so late, there was only one – a fellow out watering the garden with a circa 1845 sprinkler (not) – but he was very interesting as he talked with us for a while, telling us what they had planted there, and how, unfortunately, budget cutbacks had necessitated them eliminating the annual fall pig-slaughtering and subsequent smoking and curing. I’m sure the pigs (pictured below) are relieved, though.

Then finally off to Indy, where we left Michael to prepare for his flight to FL tomorrow, and then back here…why does it feel as if I was gone a week???