Trip to the Portrait Gallery

Chad Ellwood

Our group went for a trip to the White House and the Portrait Gallery on Friday the 6th, and it was quite the back to back. As great as the White House was and as much as I have always dreamed of stepping foot inside the home of the most powerful man in the free world, I surprisingly more enjoyed my time at the Portrait Gallery. The Portrait Gallery is also home to the Smithsonian American Art Museum. I could have spent a solid week there, especially in the modern art section. Some of the pieces were mind-blowing - this is the greatest art in America and I was seeing it up close and in person. Some of the abstract work was great and there was an incredibly cool piece that captured my attention and is shown below. Another one of my favorite pieces was a high-resolution collection of three photographs, showing the NSA, the National Reconnaissance Office, and the National Geospatial Intelligence Agency.  The photographs captured the sheer breadth of the American intelligence operation and were both beautiful pictures of intimidatingly large operations in our backyard. The portraits were amazing as well – I especially enjoyed the American Presidents exhibit. The different artists presented each president in such a unique way and much of it spoke to the time that the art was done. There was also a bust of Rachel Carson - one of my favorite historical figures of all time and an environmental hero. It was a heck of a day and I really appreciated having the chance to get to see some of the great works in person.

A Morning in Market

Eastern market is only a few blocks from the capital building.It was a cold Saturday morning Jessica, Taylor, Michelle, and I decided to get breakfast and see if it was like the markets at home. We hurried past neatly lined town homes and into the market. We were going for breakfast and as we ate vendors began setting up. We talked about school as they set up the tables, talked about home while they unpacked boxes, and our hopes for the semester as people began laid out their wares. There were several impressive artists. I bought a small print of the capital building and a new pair of earmuffs. Apparently ones with panda ears might not be entirely professional. With sites like Etsy I forget how nice it is talk to the people who make the crafts. It was great talking to a women who had made special heart key chains in preparation for Valentines. The lovely beading and leather work that showed how much time and energy she could put into her work. Another women's booth gave us a double take. It took us by surprise to realize that her art was as the cover of a magazine we’d been looking at. Called HillRag listing local activities, shows and festivals in D.C. Golshah Agdasi used to make jewelry but with the some encouragement started painting. Having not seen her jewelry I can’t compare the two, but if her paintings were any judge they would have been beautiful. Everyone was helpful asking if there was anything in particular I was looking for. I am excited to go back in warmer weather to look at all the outdoor stalls.

Isabelle ChaseWehner

"It doesn't seem that far away."

As silly as it sounds, going for walks is one of my favorite hobbies.  Whether it be walking around my neighborhood, strolling down a country dirt road, or hiking through various forms of vegetation, I think walking is one of the best ways to explore your surroundings and bond with others.  One might imagine that walking is a primary form of transportation here in our nation’s capital.  I love it; I really do.   In D.C., I think many visitors miss out on the opportunity to walk the National Mall at night. On our first Thursday night together, a group of Glenn Fellows made sure that we wouldn’t miss out.

On our first Thursday together, we decided to take an impromptu stroll.  We weren’t sure how far we’d go, but decided that we should at least make it to the front of the Capitol building. 

Getting artistic: the view looking up
from the base of the monument

Once we made it to the front of the Capitol, we didn’t want stop just there.  After all, the Washington Monument didn’t seem that far away.

About a mile and a half later, we had made it to the monument.  After walking up the deceiving hill, we took our time taking in the view.  We could see the Capitol lit in all of its scaffolding glory, President Jefferson standing in his grand rotunda, and if you looked very closely to the west, you could see President Lincoln locked in a stare down, overlooking the reflection pool.

Although the Washington Monument may not have the most influential quotes or statue, I couldn’t help, but just look at it.  Especially at night, the 555ft obelisk invokes a feeling of unwavering patriotism.  We sat for a bit, in the calmness of DC, taking it in.  We may have been the only people there, but we were surrounded by the legacies of a few of our country’s greatest leaders and visionaries. 

The walk was an appropriate way to begin the semester and experience part of the awesomeness that is in our nation’s capital.  I think one of the best parts of the bonding experience was its sense of spontaneity. It really proved that we didn't have to arrange a grand plan in order to have a great time.

I’m definitely looking forward to more walking adventures.

Taylor Slivka 

"You remind me of my sister."

Mr. Henry Greenbaum
Born: April 1, 1928
 Starachowice, Poland
Liberated: April 25, 1945

The ghastly memories of a not-so-distant past preserved inside the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum will surely invoke a storm of emotion in every visitor's heart. The experience is further magnified upon hearing from someone whose life and soul were forever changed during those horrific years.

It was 1940 when Henry and his family were forced from their home in Poland by a set of those menacing Gestapo whose presence had long been a source of fear for the 12-year-old boy. Upon arrival at the first of several camps that he would inhabit during the coming years, Henry and his family were split up in the selection process. He and his two strongest sisters were directed to one side, comprised of those deemed fit for slave labor, while his mother and two frailer sisters were led away to Treblinka where they were executed.

When Henry’s story was finished, he graciously spent time chatting with us, answering our questions, and even posing for a photo. Finally it was my turn to shake his hand and offer my thanks - he grasped my hand with both of his and looked into my eyes with an expression of fierce sorrow.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“I’m 21,” came my reply.

Henry shook his head sadly. What he said next left me taken aback to say the least.

“You remind me so much of my youngest sister,” he told me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “She was small just like you, and so the Officers decided she wasn't fit enough to work at the camp. She was led away to the ‘showers,’ and I never saw her again.”

Stunned silence on my end.

“You’re so lucky to have been born when and where you were,” he went on.

In awe of Mr. Greenbaum

A feeble, “Yes,” and a nod were all I could manage. Henry's point was matter-of-fact: I likely would not have survived the holocaust.

The profound eye contact I sustained with Henry during that brief conversation will forever define my perception of the holocaust. Never have those awful years been more real to me than in that moment.

It’s a common theme among holocaust survivors and throughout the USHMM to pass on the real-life horror stories of WWII Germany. Those stories must not die, such that we remember why it must never be allowed to happen again. That’s why more than 90 survivors volunteer their time to the Museum to bravely recount, over and over to thousands of strangers, the worst days of their lives.

The legacy they strive for is a call to action - never forget.

-Sara Joy Goff

"You are my witnesses"

In the long history of the United States, there are few moments in time that render the whole world speechless. Few events and even fewer people have such a profound impact on the course of human history that they demand eternal recognition and constant reconsideration. It just so happens that for our beautiful country, all of these people and events are memorialized here in Washington, DC. The body of John F Kennedy rests peacefully atop a hill in Arlington, looking over the Potomac River and the symbols of freedom and democracy. Abe Lincoln sits in utter silence as he gazes off into the distance -- perched in perfect position for all citizens of the world to admire. Nearby, there is a reflective black wall that measures slightly over 246 feet in length but contains the names of 58,286 brave Americans who lost their lives in Vietnam. All of these breathtaking and inspiring locations are meant to celebrate the lives of our idols and honor the lives of our heroes.

There is one location in this town however that is not meant to celebrate or honor the good deeds accomplished by brave American men and women. The Holocaust Museum has a stated mission of education and story-telling for the sole purpose of ensuring that a tragedy of the same magnitude NEVER happens again. What you experience as a visitor to this museum is beyond powerful -- it is a feeling of complete remorse and sorrow that could very well last a lifetime.

Harry Greenbaum was 12 years old in 1939 when the Germans invaded his hometown in Poland. He was 15 when he was transferred to Auschwitz-Birkenau. He was 17 on April 25, 1945 when he was liberated from his death march by the American army. Harry Greenbaum was 87 years old on Friday, February 13th when he shared his story with eight students from Ohio State in an empty classroom. A survivor of the most horrific human persecution in the history of mankind, Mr. Greenbaum shared with us his powerful story of horror, luck, and triumph. His story only took about 50 minutes to tell but those 50 minutes made you feel like you were right by his side for the entirety of his beautiful life. Words cannot express my gratitude for Mr. Greenbaum and my admiration for his courage -- not only for being alive but for his willingness to share his remarkable story.

After hearing from Mr. Greenbaum, the museum experience became instantly enhanced. Everything on display from family photos to maps -- from clothes to replica Auschwitz barracks -- everything now had a face. Harry made the museum personal. You could feel his presence throughout and each time you looked into the eyes of a photograph, you felt connected. Words that Harry said appeared in descriptions and places he had been were highlighted on the maps. Everything we had just heard during his talk re-appeared in some form throughout the museum. The powerful photos and breathtaking displays are remarkable in their own right; but being able to put a face and a name to those exhibits made the experience even more special.

The Holocaust Museum serves as a reminder of the pure evil man is capable of performing and as a lesson in speaking out. Tell your story, no matter how short. People learn from the experiences of those who come before them and those stories allow for education and growth. This museum is here so that people tell their story. It exists so Harry Greenbaum can share with the world the story of a young Jewish boy from a small town in Poland who survived the Holocaust. It exists so that visitors can write and speak about their experience, ensuring that future generations never forget the atrocities committed by a group of despicable people and ensuring that future generations have the courage to speak out and speak up.

ONLY GUARD YOURSELF AND GUARD YOUR SOUL CAREFULLY, LEST YOU FORGET THE THINGS YOUR EYES SAW, AND LEST THESE THINGS DEPART YOUR HEART ALL THE DAYS OF YOUR LIFE. AND YOU SHALL MAKE THEM KNOWN TO YOUR CHILDREN, AND TO YOUR CHILDREN'S CHILDREN

                                                                          Deuteronomy 4:9

Matt Shomo

Away to Georgetown We Went

This past weekend, several of us visited Georgetown and the surrounding area. Needless to say, it was AWESOME. Walking along M St. reminded me of the Short North and High St. back in Columbus. There were so many different shops, restaurants, boutiques, and specialty stores. The streets were PACKED. We couldn't walk one minute without bumping into somebody. And I swear the guy who sells the newspapers in front of the Subway on High St. must have a twin in DC who also sells newspapers on M St. We also paid a visit to Francis Scott Key (composer of the "Star Spangled Banner") at the end of M St.

Not only is M St. cool, the canal and locks that are behind the street are a fantastic piece of history. The canal is original, and the locks help you imagine how transportation was back 200 years ago. We walked along the stretch of the canal and I couldn't help imagine myself back in the 1800s riding one of the barges. It's as if time has stood still. Going further south, we happened to come to the Potomac riverfront. Across the river you can see the skyscrapers of Rosslyn, and to the left, the Kennedy Center.

By this time, we were starving (walking gives you a good appetite). The problem was that there were so many restaurants to choose from: sandwich shops, pizza, burgers, and seafood just to name a few. We eventually settled on a French cafe, and we soon discovered it was the right choice. From split pea soup to stingray to spinach mouse, I was really impressed and almost died from bliss after eating the apple tart.

Before heading back to home, we stopped at Georgetown University to see a reading/play of "The Bridge of San Luis Rey" by Thornton Wilder. The students put on an awesome performance and we left feeling much cultured.

Georgetown is an awesome part of DC to explore, and we will definitely visit again (and make sure to get one of those famous cupcakes)!

-Wali

"Journalism is the antidote to ignorance." - Jon Stewart

View from the 6th floor terrace 

On a Friday near the end of January, our group had tickets to embark on our first study tour by ourselves (since Katy was out interviewing students for this experience in the summer-- yes… already). We embarked for the Newseum in the morning, meeting up together in the massive studio-style lobby. I entered college as a journalism major with an affinity for writing since I was able to read, so this stop was especially close to my heart. Public Affairs has allowed me to combine my love of reading, writing, and politics into one, and my internship with in the Press Office this semester at the Department of Education has developed that coalescence even more.

We split up into smaller groups (somehow 8 people can really disperse themselves), and myself and a few other fellows ended up at the Berlin Wall. Yes-- (a piece of) the real one. The wall was surrounded by maps and stories of Germany’s division. One side of the wall was covered almost completely in graffiti. From art to expressions of anger, the democratic West Berliners documented the time through artistic expression.  The east side was completely bare, save for a few cracks. Seeing the real wall, along with the watch tower used to take down anyone trying to escape was a stark reminder of our freedom.

The Pulitzer Prize Photo wall was also a noteworthy exhibit. It was powerful. We could each probably write an entire blog post for each photo-- it was almost like seeing the past 100 years, around the world fly past you. There were photos anywhere from an American suburb to the deserts of a third world country. The emotions were both expected and surprising. We saw tears among riches and laughter among ruins. A clip running in the center of the room featured one of the winners discussing a photo and the story behind it. But what was caught my interest was the fact that he was not talking about his own photo, but a colleague, Kevin Carter. Kevin grew up in a whites-only neighborhood in a religious family, sheltered from the world of injustice in the civil rights movement that surrounded him. Carter left the army after seeing the horrors of the Church Street Bombing to become a photographer. While photographing in South Sudan, Kevin was preparing for a shot of a small, starving child struggling to reach a local food center. As he focused the shot, a vulture swooped behind the child, watching and waiting. He snapped the shot. This portrait of death and absence of dignity turned into a Pulitzer Prize for Feature Photography in 1993 and sparked the attention of many wondering the fate of the girl. Three months later, Carter committed suicide, citing his memories of killings and pain as reasoning.

“Th’ newspaper… comforts th’ afflicted, afflicts th’ comfortable.”

-Finley Peter Dunne, 1902

I could write blog posts about this museum every week until I return to Columbus. Beyond the Berlin Wall and photo gallery we saw many pieces of history, from a timeline of the First Dogs, to a chilling 9/11 display, recalling the events of the first major historical event that our group could remember clearly in our lifetime. The Newseum was similar to the myriad of museums in the District as it showcased the world at both it’s highest and lowest points. But what made it extraordinary was that it revealed these events as they were told, in real time, and without limitations, as the press should.

“People have a need to know. Journalists have a right to tell.

Finding the facts can be difficult. Reporting the story can be dangerous.

Freedom includes the right to be outrageous. Responsibility includes the duty to be fair.

News is history in the making. Journalists provide the first draft of history.”

Front pages from all 50 states after the 9/11 terrorist attacks

---Michelle K. Fugate

A Beautiful Event in Honor of an Important Day

On Monday, January 19th, 2015, our WAIP group decided to spend the day reflecting on the nation’s history and some of the highest-valued tenets of freedom—justice, equality, and opportunity—by exploring the capitol city. The earlier part of the day mostly involved viewing monuments and memorials, including the Thomas Jefferson Memorial, George Mason Memorial, Lincoln Memorial, Korean and Vietnam War Memorials, and others. Most importantly, our group had the privilege of visiting the MLK Memorial, with the Washington Memorial picturesquely placed in the backdrop. So many individuals and groups surrounded the memorial; although the atmosphere was bustling, there was a quiet serenity about the experience. 

After grabbing lunch and splitting up, one student suggested that the five remaining fellows (including me) visit Arlington Cemetery. The experience was beautiful; the scenery was breathtaking, the air was cool and crisp, and there was a feeling of somber remembrance that seemed especially appropriate on MLK Day. 

A few quick hours passed by and we began to make our way to the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, where a special MLK event was taking place. It was one of celebration for and remembrance of the life and legacy of Martin Luther King Jr. As we scrambled to jump in line for the (FREE) event tickets, we grappled with the unpleasant possibility that the event may reach maximum capacity before we received tickets. As the line slowly snaked around the large, pillared building, we reflected on the day’s happenings and continuously voiced our hope of getting tickets. 

Around an hour later, we arrived at the doorway and found that we—the five of us—received the last five tickets available for the performance. Brimming with excitement, we made our way to the concert hall and learned that we had also acquired second-row seats. We were truly fortunate to be there. The performance was spectacular; it featured the “Let Freedom Ring” Choir, Georgetown University theatre students, guest speakers (including John DeGioia, the president of Georgetown University, and Deborah Rutter, the director of the Kennedy Center), and performer Natalie Cole. 

The event was inspiring and educational in so many ways, and we were privileged to attend it on a very important holiday.

Jessica Dillow