Tag: History

Dighton Rock – Dighton MA

If King Philip’s Cave was a bit of a disappointment surely we could find something else cool to see in these parts. Why not check something off my list that has been on there for a few years? Dighton Rock. Dighton Rock is a boulder that was discovered covered in all sorts of strange petroglyphs. We have no idea what it says, who made it, or why. It’s just a total mystery which of course beckons me like nothing else.

There’s a long-standing story that the indigenous people didn’t build anything out of rocks or have a written language when the colonists came over buuuuut the more I poke about New England finding curiosities like these the more I think that’s a load of hogwash. We don’t know shit about the people who lived here before us because we kinda sorta killed them off and drove any survivors away. Suffice to say whole civilizations were lost and clearly this rock was part of that.

The rock is advertised through signs on the main highways nearby and I have passed by it a number of times. It’s actually located within a park, Dighton Park, in a building that calls itself a museum that was built around it.

When we got there we parked in a parking lot that claimed it was $3 but had nowhere or no one to pay. It seemed to be a very pretty little park with lots of grass for children to run and some picnic tables near the water, all surrounded by trees. Honestly it was one of the sweetest parks I remember. There was even a young woman here at one of the picnic tables playing her guitar. She waited until we were out of sight to start singing The House of the Rising Sun but she shouldn’t have. She had a nice voice! And her guitar playing was also lovely. It echoed eerily in the air on this fine summer day.

We managed to find the museum nearby but it was all locked up. There wasn’t any opening hours posted anywhere. It was just a whole lot of nothing. When we got back to the parking lot we found a sign saying to call for opening hours so we did and got an answering machine asking to wait for a call back for an appointment. We didn’t leave our info, it seemed unlikely anyone would call back within any reasonable amount of time to come down here and unlock the museum for two out of towners. Their website claims that opening hours are dependent on local health regulations… so I am guessing Covid has struck again.

So we wandered back to the car and started driving off when my travel companion yelled, “PARK PARK!” I stopped, and parked again. He’d seen a sign reading, “Dighton Cemetery” and wanted to check it out. However, upon further inspection it read, “Former site of historic Dighton Cemetery.” In other words no stones remained. We hiked down the trail a ways anyway. It had a lot of bowed trees going over the path from both directions and I found it to be quite whimsical, but my travel companion was disappointed there wasn’t an actual cemetery. He had wanted to stumble blindly onto another sweet forgotten collection of headstones in the woods like we’d seen at Historic Cemetery 26. No such luck. As for myself I was trying to keep positive but I was suffering from heat stroke and a migraine was kicking up so we went back to the car and continued our journey to find a real cemetery to round out the day.

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King Philip’s Cave – Norton MA

On this particular day we decided to muck about the Bridgewater Triangle which is supposed to be a hot spot for ghosts, UFO’s and even Pukwudgie sightings. Pukwudgies are part of Native American folklore and are said to be small troll like creatures that lead people into the woods never to return. Sadly we didn’t go at night to poke at these phenomena but we did decide to check out a bit of indigenous history in exploring King Philip’s Cave.

King Philip was the name we gave the local chief of the Wampanoag tribe in the days of our early colonization. He was initially in favor of working with the white colonists and establishing trade but things sort of went south when we kept coming over in droves insisting the locals bow down to our rules and religion. And so “King Philip” (Metacomet) started to lead the other indigenous tribes in a war against colonist expansion.

King Philip’s Cave is where he hid during key moments during the war. We thought this might be an interesting thing to see so we prepared for a day of hiking and drove to a quaint little neighborhood on a private road that had a sign up saying, “Residents and guests only.” We decided we were guests and drove in anyway and at the end of a cul-de-sac there was a couple parking spots on the grass a big sign reading King Philip’s Cave completely obscured by another truck parked there.

We headed in and realized this wouldn’t be a day’s hike. The “cave” wasn’t far from the road at all and was just barely obscured by trees. It wasn’t a cave either, rather just a pile of glacial rocks sitting atop each other in such a way that a small tunnel was created through them. You see this sort of thing a lot around these parts and I suspect being at the end of a cul-de-sac this may have been some child’s favorite place to play. It was interesting but entirely underwhelming. There wasn’t even a plaque at the cave itself explaining it (though there was one at the entrance of the trail.) It was all very… half-assed. We’d seen this before looking at other places important in King Philip’s War and other bloody skirmishes with the people who already lived here. It’s almost like we’d like to forget it ever happened…

Luckily we had other plans that day to go see Dighton Rock and the Mayflower Hill Cemetery also in the area so the day wasn’t a complete wash.

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Plymouth Rock & Pilgrim Memorial Park – Plymouth Massachusetts

We were once again trying to figure out something to do when Plymouth Rock came up as “the most underwhelming school field trip ever.” Would it be less so in adulthood? Or would we find… a rock, an ordinary rock? It was time to find out!

I didn’t really know what I was heading into. My school wasn’t swank enough to cart our little asses to something like this so I’d never been. When we pulled up there was a truly pathetic little parking lot fit for two cars or so (OK, slight exaggeration but not by much!) that was entirely parallel parking. Nooope. Not going to do that. So I turned around and parked at the beach a few feet down the road which did have proper parking thank you very much. We put money in the parking meter and made our merry way into Pilgrim Land.

Obviously, we went to check out the rock first. I’d seen it on TV before but what I hadn’t seen was the absolutely enormous structure built over this sad little rock. The thing was penned in on all sides with iron bars like it was some sort of ferocious beast.

“Is it a dangerous rock?” I asked. “Why is it in a cage?” This is the sort of humor you’re in for if you travel with me. Grade A dad humor. Even though I’m childless and I guess technically female.

An older lady, who must have been a local, actually answered me. Well, this was new.

“See that camera there?”

“Yeah…”

“They put that in a few years ago. Someone came in and spray painted a bunch of things. It was a mess.”

“Oh no…”

“And people keep throwing their kids in there to get the change.” I looked into the pit and at the change in the sand. Was this some sort of lucky dirt fountain? Having no idea what to reply she went on. “I can’t imagine that. I mean look at how they must come out! Through the bars. You know how many 911 calls we get because some kid has tried to cut their nose off trying to go through them? All for what? 20 cents? Hope it was worth it!”

OK, now I really didn’t know what to say. I was just smiling awkwardly and wondering where this was going. Not that I am unfriendly I just have trust issues when it comes to random strangers telling me things… was she a tourist guide? Or just a lonely old lady? You never can tell.

She went on. “So you from around here?”

“No, we’re just visiting…”

“Well, you see that stairway across the street?”

“Yeah…”

“If you want to climb it there’s a crypt up there with the bones of the pilgrims and a really nice place to sit. Plus it’s a great view!”

“Ooooh… thank you…. We will definitely check that out…”

This we did. But before I get to that part I’d like to take a moment and talk about the rock because it is, and was, for all intent and purposes – just a rock. Not only was it just a rock it was a rock that’d been bust in half and glued back together after they attempted to move it to a better spot. Even more despairingly it says all over the place, on every plaque, that we think this is the rock the pilgrims adopted as their mascot but in reality we have no idea where they actually landed. It could have been 5 miles down the beach for all we know and this rock might be – get this- just a rock. And here’s where it gets really funny. Nearby there is a gift store and I swear to God – it sells rocks. Tiny polished rock babies so you too can have a Plymouth Rock. This is capitalism at it’s best.

There is also a replica of the Mayflower floating out there in the bay. We didn’t go on it. I’m a bit sketched out by boats and have kind of decided the only time it’d be worth getting on one would be if someone was kind enough to bring me to a good shipwreck to poke at. New England has to be littered with them. Shame the visibility is probably slim to nil with sharks and whatever cruising through the darkness looking for a snack. Oh well. Maybe someday…

In the meanwhile, we did climb the stairs across the street and found all kinds of historic goodies up there. Just as promised we found a terrific view of the building the rock was in as well as the bay and a big rectangular monument with the bones of some of the original pilgrims. Apparently, they’d been discovered at various points through archeological digs and were carried back to be buried here. Some of the plaques stated these original graves were forgotten because they had wooden markers which decayed but this monument said most of the graves weren’t marked at all because the pilgrims didn’t want the locals to know how many of them died and just how easy it’d be to kill off the remaining. It’s hard to say if this was paranoia or just karma biting them in the ass for treating the indigenous peoples like converts for Christ. It is super telling that one of the first things they built was a fort.

Here too was a statue of a local Chieftan, probably the one they first met. I couldn’t help but feel uneasy in his presence. For one he was wearing a loin cloth. In cold-ass New England. An unhelpful completely historically inaccurate stereotype put up by “the improved Red Men” some years ago probably in an attempt at inclusion. Cringe. To top it all off he looked forlornly across the bay – at a bunch of boats and white tourists. OK, now I’m uncomfortable.

There were plaques everywhere talking about all sorts of things – even the first women who don’t really get mentioned a lot. And then a few weird mentions of things like a bridal tree planted in the 1800’s which… didn’t result in a wedding… and honestly I’m confused why we were still talking about it. Maybe it was to add flair to the rock. Look, now it’s a rock and a tree. We ambled through a nearby park/garden and read even more interesting tidbits before walking up the street to Burial Hill which was by far my favorite part of the day.

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Slater Mills – Pawtucket RI

Slater Mills was one of those places that I keep hearing whispers about and had on my list but we didn’t end up there until we realized it was a national park and one we could stamp on our National Park passport…

Turns out the park is very new. Hasn’t even been open for a full year yet and we were around the 4,000th visitors there. It’s a sweet little outdoor park with historical markers and in the information center you can sign up for a tour that happens twice a day. We were lucky because we had no idea about this but ended up there 15 minutes before the tour started! So we gathered with what appeared to be one large family full of well behaved children and one older couple who was eying my orange hair in the suspicious way older white men tend to.

The staff were super friendly and the tour was short but information packed. We got to actually go inside the factory which was the first industrial cotton factory in New England! In fact it was the only industrial mill in the United States and the backstory to it was more than a little bonkers.

Basically the man who founded the mill was already a wealthy merchant who had made a fortune in the slave trade. However he seemed to have had an existential crisis and decided slavery was wrong and he shouldn’t be involved with it so he looked for new endeavors. England was going full steam ahead with the Industrial Revolution but the men who made, operated, and maintained their machines were forbidden to leave the British isles with their knowledge. This didn’t stop one fo them from disguising himself as a farmer and sailing across the pond anyway. And when this engineer met the wealthy merchant it was all over.

The mill opened in the late 1700’s and had twelve workers – who were not slaves. They were however children aged 6-14 who worked 12 hour shifts 6 days a week. I guess enlightenment is a gradual process with some. In any event the mill was very successful and operated well into the 1800’s. it was powered by the local river but now their one machine is powered by a motor. I took a short video.

*credit for the featured image goes to Wikipedia – I took 20 or so photos but for some reason they’re not showing up on the card so I had to improvise! Good thing I took the below video with my cell phone!

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Monocacy National Battlefield – Frederick Maryland

We still had some time to kill before we had to go to the airport so for our last little adventure we decided to go to the Monocacy National Battlefield to see where some of the events we’d been reading about actually took place. I’ve never been to a battlefield so I was just expecting a big field somewhere with nothing going on… that’s not what it ended up being.

When we drove in there was indeed a big field with a few cannons set up which is exactly what I pictured but there was also a large visitor’s center. I have to admit at this point my body was DONE with me, especially my feet which were on fire. So I was hoping for a very little display to see and then beat it back to the car. However the visitor center was like a well maintained museum in it’s own right. I sat in the gift shop and talked to the cashier a while waiting for my travel companions to make use of the facilities. I just needed to sit. He seemed a friendly older gentlemen who asked the usual questions – from where had we come from? Everywhere.

When my companions returned he gave us all a huge spiel about the park. It wasn’t just this field or even the museum attached to it. The park actually owned all sorts of properties across town and if we wanted to see all the sights we had to get a little map and do a driving tour! And if we wanted there was a few hiking trails as well – one which was supposed to have a nice view of the city. I had wanted to go on a hike but right now, in the condition I was in, the thought made me want to cry.

He also told us about the National Park passports which were like mock passports you could stamp at every national park you visit. We were all intrigued so we bought one. I was too tired to comprehend anything so I merely stamped mine with one stamp and called it good while my companions stamped theirs with all four at the station and added a sticker. I still have no idea where the sticker came from but I took a pic so y’all can see what it’s supposed to look like. In any event this will give us something else to do when we get home – visit all the national parks of New England! (Of which there aren’t many but you never know where I’m going to end up so I’m OK with that.)

When we drove off we made it to an old farmhouse which was basically taken over when Confederates marched through. The place seemed eerily quiet now. Peaceful. It was hard to imagine that it’d ever been a place of great violence and conflict. But it did get me to thinking about what it must have been like to be a farmer minding your own damn business and suddenly find your property filled with an invading army. What chaos! And how scary that would be! It was humbling.

The other stops on the car tour were basically other properties that were involved in this march as we followed the procession. It was very spaced out and hard for me to follow in any capacity. By the time we got to the hiking trail we wanted to attempt I was on the fence if I should push myself any further. My feet gave a defiant NO but the rest of me was like, “This is our LAST stop on this trip, you can’t falter now!” So I went on the little hike, hobbling the whole way. It was much farther than I had been led to believe and we never did get to see that view of the city but despite that it was a gorgeous area to be hiking. All the trees looked like they were about to spring to life and start lobbing apples at us – or maybe the weird “brain fruit” we kept finding on the ground. Everything about these things made me want to play with them and learn more. They were the size of a softball, hard as a rock, with the lumpy texture of a brain. I cracked one open and it seemed to contain a fibrous mush that smelled faintly of pineapple. Others that had been squashed in the road appeared to be decaying into an alien goo. What were these things?! Turns out they were hedge apples, grown in the area mostly to keep pest bugs at bay. They’re mildly toxic and horses that eat them foam at the mouth. Good to know!

We didn’t make it to that many stops on the self tour because by now the clock was ticking and we really did need to get back to the airport (and it’d be another 6.5 hour drive home from there.) That was no small feat and I paid for it dearly but it was worth it. This little trip out of New England was exactly what I needed to lift my spirits and get me back into the swing of things. It’s funny how travel can do that.

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Mount Olivet Cemetery – Frederick Maryland

What’s a vacation without a stroll through a local cemetery? Boring, that’s what. Long before we packed the car we had our hearts set on checking out this cemetery. My travel companion was interested in it’s history (it is the mass burial grounds for a great deal of Civil War soldiers who died in the area during four separate battles – over 400 of which remain unidentified.) For me it was less about history and more about seeing what cemeteries look like in a different part of the country and this one looked big and old with some stones going back to the 1700’s.

We’d been flirting with this cemetery for days. Our first glimpse of it was at night when the gates were closed. We decided to walk around the fenceline aside the road and see how big it was to determine how long we’d need to explore it the next day. It went on and on and on and on…. and strange things kept happening. My camera refused to snap any photos, my travel companion was complaining of the smell of pipe smoke… It was time to hang this one up for the night.

The next day we once again didn’t make it there before dark. However there was still an hour or two before it closed so we drove in to check it out all the same. We noticed that there was a large monument at the beginning of it memorializing Francis Scott Key, the writer of our national anthem who was buried under the aforementioned monument. We would find his parents in the cemetery later on – protected by a little iron fence.

Also buried here were Barbara Hauer Fritchie who became famous when at the age of 95 she refused to surrender to the Confederate troops marching through her property. I guess at ninety-five you have very little to lose but it’s still a great story about a fiery old woman. And somewhere nearby there is the grave of the US’s first unofficial president and his wife who served before George Washington. I’m sorry I have already forgotten their names. Luckily I took photos that read John and Jane Hanson. So there, I don’t have to remember. Also of note was the first fireman to die in the line of duty, a bunch of soldiers from every war, and a memorial to the children who fought and died in the Civil War. Yes, children. And of course there are congressmen galore sprinkled throughout like confetti. And for the more gruesome there is a whole section for infants nicknamed “babyland” and a mass burial of Civil War soldiers who died in battle. This was more than enough to make me wonder if anyone was still lingering here after their demise. If so I didn’t feel any of them on this particular night.

On our last day in Frederick we took a huge chunk of time to go see the cemetery during daylight hours. It’s so big that it’s split up into sections – each named after a letter in the alphabet. I was drawn to the more ornate monuments, many of which had imagery on them I was completely unfamiliar with, others which I had seen before (like the cross and crown) but not often back home.

This cemetery was completely engrossing. Every time I thought we were done someone would find something else interesting. And we never did find the children of the Civil War monument but we did visit Confederate row where I learned that many of the confederates were poor whites… essentially fighting against their own interests (you can’t tell me an economy that favors slaves would have any higher opinion of exploiting those only one tier higher than them in class.) A lot of them were fighting for weird subtext kind of things like pride for their community or because that’s who their brother was fighting for or because of a convoluted misinterpretation of “states rights” – which I hear even today and it’s completely asinine. Freedom of the States does not mean freedom of the individual to do whatever the fuck they please – even the first pilgrims toppling off the Mayflower had a system of laws they had to abide by. Plus freedom of the individual should never extend to freedom of that individual to take the freedom of another individual. That’s just not workable in any way shape or form.

I got depressed thinking about all this. Because those Confederate soldiers who were so callously misled by the powers that be… they’re still very much alive in the bodies of their grand children. And still fighting against their own economic interests. And the idea that we never learn from history became very tiring to me.

My travel companion was struggling with all this too because at some point someone had torn down and defaced the Confederate memorial… which was placed by the Union to honor those they fought. I can understand the distress of this but I also understand there are A TON of Confederate statues erected in the 1960’s in direct response to the Civil Rights movement to basically scare people of color into accepting the status quo. And those statues… should absolutely be torn down. But this is America. We’re not good at nuance so maybe it’s for the better this statue has been lost. And maybe in the future, when we can all agree racism and all it’s various institutions are bad, can we look respectfully back at our own turbulent past.

This cemetery gave me a lot of food for thought. I learned things I didn’t expect and came home a humbler person for it.

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Self Walking Tour of Civil War Field Hospitals – Fredrick Maryland

After thoroughly dissecting the National Museum of Civil War Medicine we picked a booklet up in the gift shop that detailed a self tour we could take of local Civil War field hospitals. This we did. Now I did not have a booklet… I was just half-way listening as we walked and I snapped photos so I am going to warn you now this is a historically underwhelming entry. HOWEVER, here’s what I learned: when your city is surrounded by battlefields churches make great emergency hospitals! Seriously, there was a church on almost every corner and almost all of them had some sort of involvement in this. If I remember right (and do not quote me on this) I think there were around 17 of them on this tour. It wasn’t a long walk and was all and all quite pleasant. Below are the photos I took – most of which are probably of significant buildings.

Here’s what I do remember – the thing that looks like stables were once slave quarters and later stables. The iron fencing is where there is a nuclear bomb shelter that the locals like to whisper about. The Cherub that looks like he’s peeing in the bushes is actually looking over a brick labyrinth that was kind of fun to walk. The iron dog was once stolen to melt down for bullets but was somehow stolen back and replaced before this could happen. And of course there’s a snallygaster hidden in these photos too. He’s the local cryptid. Also I am sorry if these photos are a little on the blurry side. My camera was really struggling with full sunlight!

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National Museum of Civil War Medicine – Fredrick Maryland

Initially the only thing we had planned for sure when we were talking about visiting Maryland was a visit to the National Museum of Civil War Medicine. Why? I guess because it was just morbid enough to be perfectly suited for the both of us. And it didn’t take a lot to convince our other travel companion to go along with it. History is always interesting to poke at… medical history… well, sometimes it’s just nice to be grateful we live in a time with such things as antibiotics. You know, luxury.

I remember as a kid I was singled out by the town historian to play the part of wounded Civil War soldier for some activity we were doing in grade school… I’m fuzzy on what my badge read but I think it was something like, “leg in need of amputation.” So really this was just an extension of this bizarre role play. Not to mention I’d already been to the Mutter Museum in Philly and loved it so this was going to be fun. I looked forward to seeing all the horrifying sharp and shiny medical instruments.

When we got there we very pleasantly surprised. I was expected a little back country museum with a few feeble displays but this was off what seemed a bustling street and it was several floors and even had a spacious gift shop filled with delightfully morbid things – pens in the shape of femurs, a whole library of books on the gruesome subject at hand, and a wonderful assortment of skeleton lithographs – one of which came home with me.

We learned right away that this wasn’t just the medical history museum it was also where the office of missing civil war soldiers once operated. I hadn’t really thought about this much but I guess a lot of soldiers, especially confederate ones, remained unidentified after their deaths.

I am going to admit right here and now that I know very little about the Civil War. I remember it being shoved down my throat in grade school when I was way too young to truly comprehend any of it and then it never being mentioned again. And if I want to be brutally honest this is probably the beginning of me hating school. I mean I had no interest in any of it. And this is unfortunate because I think if it was taught when I was a little older I would have been as fascinated by the human interest side of it as I am now.

With that all being said I’m sure I will say some dumb things about what I’ve learned so here we go! The museum was very well put together and had all sorts of interactive exhibits, a bunch of life size wax figurines, some dioramas, and of course a whole lotta history. Right from the get-go we were greeted by a big display called Civil War Myths and we got to read through them. One for the most repeated was that Civil War surgeons weren’t butchers or barbers, they were actual surgeons and doctors. I mean they wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny today but at the time they were the top of their field. To become a surgeon one had to attend two semesters of classes which spanned over 6 months and took two years to complete both. Granted there seemed to be little real life “practice” shall we say buuut… it was better than nothing.

Things I learned: the Civil War was the birth of the US’s ambulance system. There were a shocking amount of amputations because the bullets at the time were led and shattered upon impact rather than going straight through like modern artillery. There were women working the battlefields as nurses – some were even people of color. Some soldiers brought their entire families with them – which frequently resulted in their wives being cast in unpaid domestic chores and their children dying of dysentery and other camp plagues. Horses were so important to the war effort that the first ever sanctuary/livestock recovery farm was started to nurse injures horses and mules back to health so they could be sent back to the front lines – in the process of doing this the field of veterinary medicine expanded greatly in knowledge – well past the “Well, it’s injured, guess we have to shoot it now” mentality.

Among all the displays of sharp things there were photos of people before and after they were made prosthetics – an industry that again was founded in this tragedy. Some were profoundly disfigured and aside them there was a photo of a pile of amputated parts – feet, legs, hands. It was… honestly a bit stomach turning. And then we found the arm. An actual human arm. Mummified of course. Whose arm was it? Nobody knows! All we know is that it was plucked off a battlefield where it was lying minding it’s own business and brought home by a doctor before being eventually donated to this museum.

Who brings home an arm?!”

“Well he was a doctor…”

“AND?! Unless his name was Frankenstein that doesn’t make it any less WTF!”

We spent quite a bit of time here. It was even more morbid than I anticipated and it was very educational. Perfect for any history buff or medical student in my opinion. I would highly recommend it if you’re ever in Fredrick.

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Busting out of New England! To Maryland I go!

I am just writing this quick entry to announce that this week I will be doing something a little different with this blog. Since I was invited to attend a wedding in Maryland I decided to take a few days off and poke around Baltimore and Fredric. I had a lot of fun with great people and destinations and took enough photos to make you cry. We ended up everywhere – at museums, battlefields, escape rooms, some fantastic diners, antique shops, record stores, parks, and of course cemeteries. So buckle and stay tuned as I post a flurry of Maryland-based entries!

Below are some photo teases to wet your apatite.

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Dinosaur Footprints – Holyoke MA

During our last visit to the Eyrie House Ruins we noticed a sign aside the road promising dinosaur footprints. We didn’t have the energy to check it out then but this time we did! And of course with four people this time half the group was less than thrilled at the idea of more hiking. However the sign said it was maybe 300 feet to the destination at hand… which is nothing. So off we went!

And we ended up in this weird little rock outcropping with a mural of dinosaurs on it. We were still missing the point until one of us yelled, “Oh my God, there really are dinosaurs!” And looking down there were in fact a series of tracks from several different kinds of dinosaurs. They were eroded from being in the elements but still visible if you knew what you were looking for. Is it worth going out just for this? Maybe not, but it is totally worth a detour if you’re in the area anyway…

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