This field trip is going to take more blogs than I’ll have time for, but here’s a shot at the first one. I’ve been a Virginian all my life, so Washington, DC has never been a big deal for me. I went on this field trip, however, with Whitman in mind, and it completely changed the way I viewed everything. The mall is nearly the same every time I visit: a big stretch of patchy grass covered with tourists. It’s muddy and it’s crowded, and unless you’re en route to one of the Smithsonians, not all that interesting. But there’s something decidedly different when you look at it as a place that Whitman would have traveled on, crowded with soldiers and refuse.

We also visited the Library of Congress,the grand finale and the culmination of everything we’d been looking at. I remember being tired, achy, and definitely grumpy as we tromped around its parameters. And then we filed into the room, and I noticed table upon table set out with Whitman paraphernalia-kind of like Thanksgiving for a Whitmaniac. We crowded around the tables, eagerly snapping pictures and taking in everything that was spread out. We’ve talked about Whitman for hours on end, but having the artifacts made me feel closer to Whitman than ever before. I was literally inches away from things he had touched and loved, things that Whitman had known future generations would want to see.

Maybe I’m feeling particularly emotional with us nearing the end, but the phrase “I shall yet get well” on this letter makes me tear up.

One of Whitman's hospital notebooks

Whitman's glasses. The right eye is frosted over.

Engraving on the Calamus Staff. Given to Whitman by Burroughs.

Whitman's hair. This seems to be a theme when Erin and I go on trips.

The.Haversack.

Oh, and by the way, most of us cried. When the haversack was unveiled, it felt like everything we had done in that class came together. It clicked on a level I’m not really sure I can describe (maybe this is the “discovering Whitman” episode we’ve been looking for?). Whatever it was, I felt more connected to Whitman and the rest of my class than I ever have before. It’s kind of incredible how something as simple as a letter or a bag can do that. Perhaps all it requires is a little touch of divine poesy.