Whitman Field Trips

The tour of Ft. Greene Park led by Greg Trupiano was not only informative but inspirational. I left the tour with a much greater understanding of Ft. Greene because of the information presented. The tour began at the visitor’s center in Ft. Greene Park and Greg began to present the history and relevance of Whitman to this park. What was especially pleasing was that Greg brought along a gentleman who read selections of Whitman with great presence. It is always great to hear Whitman spoken aloud, as I believe he wrote it to be spoken aloud. In addition there was in attendance a member of the conservatory, Charles, who had quite a bit to contribute about the park. During the presentation Nicole sang Whitman’s words. She is a professional Opera singer. Her voice resonatedwithin me long after the tour had ended. The fourth person in attendance was an expert on Crown Heights and Bed-Stuy. She was also able to contribute her knowledge to the experience. The prison ship martyr’s monument in Ft. Greene Park is over the crypt of bones from the prisoners’ ships in the harbor. There is one full set of remains, the of Benjamin Romaine, and the vault can only be opened by the great great great great granddaughter of Benjamin Romaine, Vicki Romaine. There are lots of other bones in the crypt, but none as complete. They washed up on the shores of the old Navy Yard, and in the morning the prisoners ships would turn over thir dead and they would be buried in shallow graves where the old Navy Yard is today. The water would uncover the bones and the remains were collected for this crypt. There was lots of talk of the Old Jersey. Whitman writes in New York, “the principal of these prison ships was the old Jersey, a large 74-gun …the one which seems to have been most relied on was the old Jersey. The British took a great manyAmerican prisoners during the war-not only by land, but also by their privateers, at sea. When a capture was made in any of the waters near enough, the prisoners were brought with the vessel to New York. These helped to swell the rank of the unhappy men, who were crowded together in the most infernal quarters, starved, diseased, helpless, and many becoming utterly desperate and insane.-Death and starvation killed them off rapidly” (31). More men died on these ships than died in the entire Battle of Brooklyn. When word got back to Great Britain about these deaths it brought a lot of shame on the soldiers. The anonymity between American and Great Britain remained up until the first World War. After the great presentation at the crypt, we moved on to Whitman’s only standing residence in Brooklyn, 99 Ryerson Street. We gathered across the street and had a question and answer exchange. It is our understanding that everybody who lives in their is quite aware that this is Whitman’s house. Many of the tennants have been students of Pratt. Then we walked back towards CUNY as a group. It was a beautiful day for a tour, and we all left more inspired than we had arrived three hours earlier.

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The tour of Ft. Greene Park led by Greg Trupiano was not only informative but inspirational. I left the tour with a much greater understanding of Ft. Greene because of the information presented. The tour began at the visitor’s center in Ft. Greene Park and Greg began to present the history and relevance of Whitman to this park. What was especially pleasing was that Greg brought along a gentleman who read selections of Whitman with great presence. It is always great to hear Whitman spoken aloud, as I believe he wrote it to be spoken aloud. In addition there was in attendance a member of the conservatory, Charles, who had quite a bit to contribute about the park. During the presentation Nicole sang Whitman’s words. She is a professional Opera singer. Her voice resonatedwithin me long after the tour had ended. The fourth person in attendance was an expert on Crown Heights and Bed-Stuy. She was also able to contribute her knowledge to the experience. The prison ship martyr’s monument in Ft. Greene Park is over the crypt of bones from the prisoners’ ships in the harbor. There is one full set of remains, the of Benjamin Romaine, and the vault can only be opened by the great great great great granddaughter of Benjamin Romaine, Vicki Romaine. There are lots of other bones in the crypt, but none as complete. They washed up on the shores of the old Navy Yard, and in the morning the prisoners ships would turn over thir dead and they would be buried in shallow graves where the old Navy Yard is today. The water would uncover the bones and the remains were collected for this crypt. There was lots of talk of the Old Jersey. Whitman writes in New York, “the principal of these prison ships was the old Jersey, a large 74-gun …the one which seems to have been most relied on was the old Jersey. The British took a great manyAmerican prisoners during the war-not only by land, but also by their privateers, at sea. When a capture was made in any of the waters near enough, the prisoners were brought with the vessel to New York. These helped to swell the rank of the unhappy men, who were crowded together in the most infernal quarters, starved, diseased, helpless, and many becoming utterly desperate and insane.-Death and starvation killed them off rapidly” (31). More men died on these ships than died in the entire Battle of Brooklyn. When word got back to Great Britain about these deaths it brought a lot of shame on the soldiers. The anonymity between American and Great Britain remained up until the first World War. After the great presentation at the crypt, we moved on to Whitman’s only standing residence in Brooklyn, 99 Ryerson Street. We gathered across the street and had a question and answer exchange. It is our understanding that everybody who lives in their is quite aware that this is Whitman’s house. Many of the tennants have been students of Pratt. Then we walked back towards CUNY as a group. It was a beautiful day for a tour, and we all left more inspired than we had arrived three hours earlier.

The tour of Ft. Greene Park led by Greg Trupiano was not only informative but inspirational. I left the tour with a much greater understanding of Ft. Greene because of the information presented. The tour began at the visitor’s center in Ft. Greene Park and Greg began to present the history and relevance of Whitman to this park. What was especially pleasing was that Greg brought along a gentleman who read selections of Whitman with great presence. It is always great to hear Whitman spoken aloud, as I believe he wrote it to be spoken aloud. In addition there was in attendance a member of the conservatory, Charles, who had quite a bit to contribute about the park. During the presentation Nicole sang Whitman’s words. She is a professional Opera singer. Her voice resonatedwithin me long after the tour had ended. The fourth person in attendance was an expert on Crown Heights and Bed-Stuy. She was also able to contribute her knowledge to the experience. The prison ship martyr’s monument in Ft. Greene Park is over the crypt of bones from the prisoners’ ships in the harbor. There is one full set of remains, the of Benjamin Romaine, and the vault can only be opened by the great great great great granddaughter of Benjamin Romaine, Vicki Romaine. There are lots of other bones in the crypt, but none as complete. They washed up on the shores of the old Navy Yard, and in the morning the prisoners ships would turn over thir dead and they would be buried in shallow graves where the old Navy Yard is today. The water would uncover the bones and the remains were collected for this crypt. There was lots of talk of the Old Jersey. Whitman writes in New York, “the principal of these prison ships was the old Jersey, a large 74-gun …the one which seems to have been most relied on was the old Jersey. The British took a great manyAmerican prisoners during the war-not only by land, but also by their privateers, at sea. When a capture was made in any of the waters near enough, the prisoners were brought with the vessel to New York. These helped to swell the rank of the unhappy men, who were crowded together in the most infernal quarters, starved, diseased, helpless, and many becoming utterly desperate and insane.-Death and starvation killed them off rapidly” (31). More men died on these ships than died in the entire Battle of Brooklyn. When word got back to Great Britain about these deaths it brought a lot of shame on the soldiers. The anonymity between American and Great Britain remained up until the first World War. After the great presentation at the crypt, we moved on to Whitman’s only standing residence in Brooklyn, 99 Ryerson Street. We gathered across the street and had a question and answer exchange. It is our understanding that everybody who lives in their is quite aware that this is Whitman’s house. Many of the tennants have been students of Pratt. Then we walked back towards CUNY as a group. It was a beautiful day for a tour, and we all left more inspired than we had arrived three hours earlier.

On our field trip to Washington DC, as we doggedly trekked back to the cars, Chelsea and I fell into conversation about Whitman’s letters. Of course, we were thrilled to have seen them and nearly touched them. The preciseness of Whitman’s handwriting and the possibility that one of the letters might have had his fingerprint was incredible. What was even more incredible about the letters, I think, was the fact that they were physical evidence of Whitman’s transcendence of time. Not only had his words and thoughts survived, but they were still able to touch a group of college students and turn them into weepy messes. Even something as simple as his revisions brought on tears, and then his letters…Oh, Walt. I know I’ve said this before, but the “I will get well yet” will always stick with me.

It got both Chelsea and I thinking: in the age of technology, with emails and AIM, what is our legacy going to be like? Emails and IMs are deleted within minutes and what with their ability to be instantaneous, I think we tend to make them a lot more impersonal. There’s just something lacking when you type in Times New Roman, size 12. Furthermore, where are they going to be saved? How are we going to pass some of these things on for people a hundred years ahead?

Granted, I think part of the reason we are able to take Whitman’s letters to heart today is because he knew he was going to be pretty special. Score one for egotism But I can’t help wonder what his legacy would  be like if Whitman was reduced to 140 characters (sorry, Jim Groom!). At any rate, the idea has made me get out my pens and write some letters via snail mail. I even sealed them with wax. So maybe I’m not going to be famous like Whitman, and future generations would probably care less what I wrote to my grandmother, but at least my children might one day get a glimpse of what I and my super trippy handwriting were  like (I’ve been told I have the cursive of a serial killer, seriously).

Okay. At the risk of this not having anything much to do with our field trip, I’m going to post several of the pictures of Whitman’s letters and handwritten notes. I dare you not to tear up a little (or at least the Whitmaniacs in Digital Whitman, anyway).

On our field trip to Washington DC, as we doggedly trekked back to the cars, Chelsea and I fell into conversation about Whitman’s letters. Of course, we were thrilled to have seen them and nearly touched them. The preciseness of Whitman’s handwriting and the possibility that one of the letters might have had his fingerprint was incredible. What was even more incredible about the letters, I think, was the fact that they were physical evidence of Whitman’s transcendence of time. Not only had his words and thoughts survived, but they were still able to touch a group of college students and turn them into weepy messes. Even something as simple as his revisions brought on tears, and then his letters…Oh, Walt. I know I’ve said this before, but the “I will get well yet” will always stick with me.

It got both Chelsea and I thinking: in the age of technology, with emails and AIM, what is our legacy going to be like? Emails and IMs are deleted within minutes and what with their ability to be instantaneous, I think we tend to make them a lot more impersonal. There’s just something lacking when you type in Times New Roman, size 12. Furthermore, where are they going to be saved? How are we going to pass some of these things on for people a hundred years ahead?

Granted, I think part of the reason we are able to take Whitman’s letters to heart today is because he knew he was going to be pretty special. Score one for egotism But I can’t help wonder what his legacy would  be like if Whitman was reduced to 140 characters (sorry, Jim Groom!). At any rate, the idea has made me get out my pens and write some letters via snail mail. I even sealed them with wax. So maybe I’m not going to be famous like Whitman, and future generations would probably care less what I wrote to my grandmother, but at least my children might one day get a glimpse of what I and my super trippy handwriting were  like (I’ve been told I have the cursive of a serial killer, seriously).

Okay. At the risk of this not having anything much to do with our field trip, I’m going to post several of the pictures of Whitman’s letters and handwritten notes. I dare you not to tear up a little (or at least the Whitmaniacs in Digital Whitman, anyway).

On our field trip to Washington DC, as we doggedly trekked back to the cars, Chelsea and I fell into conversation about Whitman’s letters. Of course, we were thrilled to have seen them and nearly touched them. The preciseness of Whitman’s handwriting and the possibility that one of the letters might have had his fingerprint was incredible. What was even more incredible about the letters, I think, was the fact that they were physical evidence of Whitman’s transcendence of time. Not only had his words and thoughts survived, but they were still able to touch a group of college students and turn them into weepy messes. Even something as simple as his revisions brought on tears, and then his letters…Oh, Walt. I know I’ve said this before, but the “I will get well yet” will always stick with me.

It got both Chelsea and I thinking: in the age of technology, with emails and AIM, what is our legacy going to be like? Emails and IMs are deleted within minutes and what with their ability to be instantaneous, I think we tend to make them a lot more impersonal. There’s just something lacking when you type in Times New Roman, size 12. Furthermore, where are they going to be saved? How are we going to pass some of these things on for people a hundred years ahead?

Granted, I think part of the reason we are able to take Whitman’s letters to heart today is because he knew he was going to be pretty special. Score one for egotism But I can’t help wonder what his legacy would  be like if Whitman was reduced to 140 characters (sorry, Jim Groom!). At any rate, the idea has made me get out my pens and write some letters via snail mail. I even sealed them with wax. So maybe I’m not going to be famous like Whitman, and future generations would probably care less what I wrote to my grandmother, but at least my children might one day get a glimpse of what I and my super trippy handwriting were  like (I’ve been told I have the cursive of a serial killer, seriously).

Okay. At the risk of this not having anything much to do with our field trip, I’m going to post several of the pictures of Whitman’s letters and handwritten notes. I dare you not to tear up a little (or at least the Whitmaniacs in Digital Whitman, anyway).

On our field trip to Washington DC, as we doggedly trekked back to the cars, Chelsea and I fell into conversation about Whitman’s letters. Of course, we were thrilled to have seen them and nearly touched them. The preciseness of Whitman’s handwriting and the possibility that one of the letters might have had his fingerprint was incredible. What was even more incredible about the letters, I think, was the fact that they were physical evidence of Whitman’s transcendence of time. Not only had his words and thoughts survived, but they were still able to touch a group of college students and turn them into weepy messes. Even something as simple as his revisions brought on tears, and then his letters…Oh, Walt. I know I’ve said this before, but the “I will get well yet” will always stick with me.

It got both Chelsea and I thinking: in the age of technology, with emails and AIM, what is our legacy going to be like? Emails and IMs are deleted within minutes and what with their ability to be instantaneous, I think we tend to make them a lot more impersonal. There’s just something lacking when you type in Times New Roman, size 12. Furthermore, where are they going to be saved? How are we going to pass some of these things on for people a hundred years ahead?

Granted, I think part of the reason we are able to take Whitman’s letters to heart today is because he knew he was going to be pretty special. Score one for egotism But I can’t help wonder what his legacy would  be like if Whitman was reduced to 140 characters (sorry, Jim Groom!). At any rate, the idea has made me get out my pens and write some letters via snail mail. I even sealed them with wax. So maybe I’m not going to be famous like Whitman, and future generations would probably care less what I wrote to my grandmother, but at least my children might one day get a glimpse of what I and my super trippy handwriting were  like (I’ve been told I have the cursive of a serial killer, seriously).

Okay. At the risk of this not having anything much to do with our field trip, I’m going to post several of the pictures of Whitman’s letters and handwritten notes. I dare you not to tear up a little (or at least the Whitmaniacs in Digital Whitman, anyway).

On our field trip to Washington DC, as we doggedly trekked back to the cars, Chelsea and I fell into conversation about Whitman’s letters. Of course, we were thrilled to have seen them and nearly touched them. The preciseness of Whitman’s handwriting and the possibility that one of the letters might have had his fingerprint was incredible. What was even more incredible about the letters, I think, was the fact that they were physical evidence of Whitman’s transcendence of time. Not only had his words and thoughts survived, but they were still able to touch a group of college students and turn them into weepy messes. Even something as simple as his revisions brought on tears, and then his letters…Oh, Walt. I know I’ve said this before, but the “I will get well yet” will always stick with me.

It got both Chelsea and I thinking: in the age of technology, with emails and AIM, what is our legacy going to be like? Emails and IMs are deleted within minutes and what with their ability to be instantaneous, I think we tend to make them a lot more impersonal. There’s just something lacking when you type in Times New Roman, size 12. Furthermore, where are they going to be saved? How are we going to pass some of these things on for people a hundred years ahead?

Granted, I think part of the reason we are able to take Whitman’s letters to heart today is because he knew he was going to be pretty special. Score one for egotism But I can’t help wonder what his legacy would  be like if Whitman was reduced to 140 characters (sorry, Jim Groom!). At any rate, the idea has made me get out my pens and write some letters via snail mail. I even sealed them with wax. So maybe I’m not going to be famous like Whitman, and future generations would probably care less what I wrote to my grandmother, but at least my children might one day get a glimpse of what I and my super trippy handwriting were  like (I’ve been told I have the cursive of a serial killer, seriously).

Okay. At the risk of this not having anything much to do with our field trip, I’m going to post several of the pictures of Whitman’s letters and handwritten notes. I dare you not to tear up a little (or at least the Whitmaniacs in Digital Whitman, anyway).

On our field trip to Washington DC, as we doggedly trekked back to the cars, Chelsea and I fell into conversation about Whitman’s letters. Of course, we were thrilled to have seen them and nearly touched them. The preciseness of Whitman’s handwriting and the possibility that one of the letters might have had his fingerprint was incredible. What was even more incredible about the letters, I think, was the fact that they were physical evidence of Whitman’s transcendence of time. Not only had his words and thoughts survived, but they were still able to touch a group of college students and turn them into weepy messes. Even something as simple as his revisions brought on tears, and then his letters…Oh, Walt. I know I’ve said this before, but the “I will get well yet” will always stick with me.

It got both Chelsea and I thinking: in the age of technology, with emails and AIM, what is our legacy going to be like? Emails and IMs are deleted within minutes and what with their ability to be instantaneous, I think we tend to make them a lot more impersonal. There’s just something lacking when you type in Times New Roman, size 12. Furthermore, where are they going to be saved? How are we going to pass some of these things on for people a hundred years ahead?

Granted, I think part of the reason we are able to take Whitman’s letters to heart today is because he knew he was going to be pretty special. Score one for egotism But I can’t help wonder what his legacy would  be like if Whitman was reduced to 140 characters (sorry, Jim Groom!). At any rate, the idea has made me get out my pens and write some letters via snail mail. I even sealed them with wax. So maybe I’m not going to be famous like Whitman, and future generations would probably care less what I wrote to my grandmother, but at least my children might one day get a glimpse of what I and my super trippy handwriting were  like (I’ve been told I have the cursive of a serial killer, seriously).

Okay. At the risk of this not having anything much to do with our field trip, I’m going to post several of the pictures of Whitman’s letters and handwritten notes. I dare you not to tear up a little (or at least the Whitmaniacs in Digital Whitman, anyway).

Who would’ve ever thought cemeteries  could be so beautiful, let alone tranquil? When one thinks of cemeteries, what comes to mind? For me, I think of rough-cornered tombstones; dark, mist-filled nights; black cats; not little cute ghosts like Casper, but you know, the real ones, the real ghosts. Well, maybe that was a bit too over-exaggerated. But really. Would would’ve thought that Whitman’s cemetery would be like that of an actual haven? Not only do we find real nature scenes coming to life in Whitman’s poetry, but he even brings them to life after death. His tomb was literally coming out from the ground. Surrounded by nature, literally connected with roots from trees, it was almost as if Whitman was a part of the ground… the grass. It was amazing. The experience was so tranquil and beautiful… This may sound a bit bizarre, but it was so nice that if I could, I would want to live nearby somewhere by the pond beside Whitman’s grave. Don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty sane. You just have to experience going to Whitman’s cemetery yourself to see what I mean.