At the end of every school year, Mr. Ellis, my 8th grade American History teacher, infamously required his students to create “something entirely made from scratch” that represented “an event that changed the course of American history.”
David W. made a replica of “The Last Spike,” the ceremonial golden final spike that joined the rails of the first Transcontinental Railroad across the United States. Laurel A. baked 50 star sugar cookies, each representing a state. From a piece of wood, Jack B. carved out a small replica of Daniel Boone’s canoe. I created a diorama of the Ford’s Theater stage depicting a split second in the Lincoln assassination.
My assassination fascination had begun three years earlier after the death of President Kennedy. Throughout the television coverage of Kennedy’s death, I had heard repeated references to Abraham Lincoln’s assassination which triggered my now deeply ingrained investigation instincts. The high school library directed me to The Day Lincoln Was Shot by Jim Bishop and The Death of Lincoln by Leroy Hayman which I — as I had done with the Time Magazine special edition summary of the Warren Commission Report on the Kennedy Assassination — purchased with babysitting money.
To construct my diorama, I rummaged around in my father’s garage and found blocks and pieces of wood as well as a variety of nails and tools. In my mother’s rag bin, I found cloth to use for curtains and clothes. Using Play-Doh, I molded and added key identifying details to everyone who had been in the presidential box that night – Abraham Lincoln, his wife, Mary Todd Lincoln, Major Henry Rathbone and his fiancé Clara Harris. The size of the bloody hole in Lincoln’s head matched the hole that was his wife’s scream. Major Rathbone’s left arm was cut open from the elbow to the shoulder where Booth had slashed him with a dagger as Rathbone attempted to apprehend him. With wire from my mother’s garden tool bucket, I suspended my Play-Doh Booth in mid-air between the box and stage and affixed a piece of paper coming from his mouth that said, “Sic semper tyrannis!” followed by “Thus always to tyrants!” in parentheses.
When I was finished, I stepped back and stared at my handiwork. Never had I created something so detailed and momentous.
The following morning I carefully carried the diorama into the history classroom and set it on my desk. Holding his gold spike, David W. took one look, scrunched his face, and said, “You’re so weird. Just the gun would have been better. No gun. No assassination.”
“Unh unh,” I said. “What’s so special about a spike you can’t even see after you pound it in? You can see everything from a stage. You can hear everything from a stage. A gun. An actor. Screams. That’s what is called history. Real history.“
I looked at the spike and all the other projects and felt the same thing when I looked at the spike: bored. I looked at my miniature Ford’s Theater stage and saw the reward of hours – indeed years – of investigating and uncovering real history. No other kid knew what I knew. I was determined to prove that assassinations changed not only the course of American history, but also the course of world history.
Thus began my monumental HISTORY scrapbook. Stay tuned.
This was one of the most difficult posts I’ve ever spewed out. I nearly didn’t publish it, but then thought, “What the hell, just get it out. This is your playground, right?”
Whatever.
The reason for my unrest is multifold. There are so many stories left to be told: one, my Kennedy assassination fascination that started it all; two, my “investigation” quirk (which was potent); three, that HISTORY scrapbook. I look at it now and wonder, “What was it with this kid?”; and last, a diorama of the Ford’s Theater stage the moment after Lincoln was shot? WTF?
Sometimes, I just don’t want to know what made that kid tick.
I love your dark obsessions.
I needed your comment, Neola. Thank you. Love you so much, more than my dark obsessions.🙏❤️😘
Ever since I read the words, “dark obsessions” in Neola’s comment, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Why does a kid have these dark obsessions? I asked Adrienne just now and she said, “a kid who thinks about suicide, thinks about death.” Adrienne said it so matter of factly.
… And then there is your adult Holocaust fascination … If suicide = assassination fascination, then does double depression = Holocaust?
You were clearly a very creative and intelligent kid. To be able to channel your well researched knowledge into a detailed diorama was brilliance. That took great effort and I hope it was recognized and rewarded by your teacher.
However, junior high school stinks. I’m sorry that you and David W. had to debate whose moment in history or project was better and could not celebrate each other instead.
Happily, this incident may have fueled your love of Peep dioramas!
Beth — thank you for your thoughtful response and affirmation. I just put another card in the mail to and hopefully it, like the one I sent a couple of days ago, will reach Cable while you are still there.
I can’t remember what I wrote in today’s card, but it was something along the lines of, “I’m in a dark mood contemplating my dark obsessions.” All I have to do is peer over my left shoulder to see an entire bookshelf (four shelves) filled with Holocaust books in alphabetical order. I can’t really remember when THAT particular dark obsession began. I kind of think it was in my 30’s as I was processing all the confusion about my sexuality. The Holocaust took my mind off of that inner turmoil. [The Holocaust?! How much fucking turmoil was I in?]
But I need to write about it, I guess. I know the Kennedy assassination was a real wake-up call for me about death. I remember thinking, “People really DO die.” I have written about it before but those stories read like something Helen Steiner Rice would write. My obsession is characterized more as a quirky habit, not something that was clarifying why I was so sad all the time.
Forgive the long reply. I can’t stop thinking about this shit.
Oh, I got an “A” on my assassination diorama and a note from Mr. Ellis that said: “Great detail about a sad event! Just remember — history isn’t always sad!” Why did he need to tell me that.? Was he picking up on something?
David W. also got an “A” and his golden spike, along with Jack B’s. canoe and some other kid’s, paper mache, three-dimensional map of the Louisiana Purchase, were put in the display case near the high school entrance. Needless to say, my project was not put on display.
I’m with Beth. “Clearly you were a creative and intelligent kid.” And you are a creative and intelligent adult as well. I am impressed with your details and your memory. I am intrigued by what you call “unrest.” Death and violence have existed since the beginning of recorded history and probably in unrecorded history. You are trying to figure out what it all means. Bravo You.
Thank for your support, too, Charlotte, which never wavers.
You write, “Death and violence have existed since the beginning of recorded history and probably in unrecorded history. You are trying to figure out what it all means.” BUT WHY? I don’t remember other kids thinking about it. Hell, do you know anyone else who reads about the Holocaust and isn’t doing it to earn a doctorate? As Tim Walz might say, “That’s just weird.”