142: IN THE FATUOUS FOOTSTEPS OF FORTY-FIVE

For some strange reason, my photographer didn’t set his alarm clock for the morning of Friday May 21, 2021. And because of that, Tom got an extra nine minutes of sleep before we headed out on our final day in Washington D.C. While we had targeted sites on the outskirts of our nation’s capital on Thursday, our second day’s agenda was filled with historic and Presidential sites within walking distance of the White House. There was one site, however, that I had been pining to see since my first visit to Washington in 2014 and unfortunately it wasn’t within walking distance of the Executive Mansion. That place was the elusive Walter Reed Army Medical Center where President Dwight Eisenhower died. But for some reason, I didn’t have a warm and fuzzy feeling that Tom and Bob would take me there that day either. In my mind, I was certain something else would come up, perhaps an unexpected site, that would give my companions an excuse to keep from driving eight miles out to the historic hospital.

A little over ten minutes after we left the hotel, Mongo parked the Rogue along the street in West Potomac Park where the three of us made the short walk to our first site of the day – the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial. The beautiful and impressive national memorial to the slain Civil Rights leader opened in August 2011; three months later, the memorial was officially dedicated by President Barack Obama. Tom carried me up to the 30-foot tall granite relief of Dr. King, called the ‘Stone of Hope’, and placed me on the spot close to where Obama played ‘tour guide’ to Shri Narendra Modi, Prime Minister of India, in 2014. The creativity and symbolism that went into the memorial’s design was second-to-none; it featured the ‘Stone of Hope’ standing past two pieces of granite known as the ‘Mountain of Despair’; phrases that were taken from an excerpt from Dr. King’s 1963 I Have A Dream speech: “Out of the mountain of despair, a stone of hope”.

The Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial is arguably the most impressive memorial in Washington; although in my opinion, it’s second-best to the Lincoln Memorial and comparable with Jefferson’s. Even though it was eight o’clock in the morning, I was surprised that there was hardly anyone else in the area; even with the pure blue sky and tolerable temperature. But I wasn’t going to complain by the lack of visitors. We had the memorial to ourselves and that made for some spectacular images; plus, I didn’t have to be concerned about getting stepped on.

What an amazing way to start the day – there’s nothing better than to hope for peaceful unity throughout our nation and no one symbolized that dream more than Martin Luther King, Jr. – with the exception of perhaps Abraham Lincoln. And both leaders paid for that belief with their lives. Without a cloud in the bright blue sky and with no other visitors in sight, the only thing I could’ve hoped for was a surprise early-morning visit to the memorial by President Joe Biden himself. Hey – I can have a dream, too!

With me in tow, my companions hustled back to our vehicle and relocated the Rogue further south towards the Jefferson Memorial; which was our next stop. My friends have always done their best to minimize their steps whenever possible, especially when the temperature begins to rise – and that morning was no exception. Once we made the shortened hike to the monument that honored our third President, our hearts quickly sank. The Jefferson Memorial was in the process of renovations that included roof repair and the cleansing of the exterior with a laser process intended to remove the biofilm that made the memorial appear filthy. That ongoing work meant one thing – unsightly scaffolding enveloped the entire memorial. At first I was disappointed, but then I remembered how dirty the monument looked in 2019 and I realized the cleansing was for the best. Two good things came out of the process as well – the interior was still open and the renovations kept the crowds to a minimum; in other words, the three of us had the interior of the Jefferson Memorial virtually to ourselves. It was like a self-guided tour, only better.

Once Tom lugged me up the white marble steps and through the small maze of scaffold, I once again stood in front of the 19-foot tall bronze statue of Thomas Jefferson. And due to the fact that we were alone, Mongo insisted that I would look prestigious standing alongside Jefferson’s feet for a series of photographs. And he was right – it was an incredible feeling to stand tall with the most famous full-body sculpture of Thomas Jefferson in our country. While I stood in silent tribute next to Jefferson’s right boot, I couldn’t help but think of his most famous words – words that have stood the test of time for nearly 245 years: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” I couldn’t imagine George W. Bush saying something like that, at least without butchering half the words and most of the meaning. But then again, Thomas Jefferson was the most brilliant mind to ever reside in the White House; unless, of course, President Donald J. Trump was asked. Trump would simply say: “Covfefe” – which was a word he invented and only his brilliant mind could decipher.

During the first hour of our sightseeing day, the three of us had visited two of the most well-known memorials in Washington. But our next stop, which would take us closer to the White House, would be to perhaps the least-known and least-appreciated memorial in our nation’s capital. Due to the distance, the rising heat, and the time factor, my companions insisted on driving to the Memorial to the 56 Signers of the Declaration of Independence rather than walk around the Tidal Basin to where that memorial was located.

It took less than ten minutes for Mongo to find a parking spot along Constitution Avenue near The Ellipse, but once we got there, my friends were suddenly shocked beyond words. Just as my photographer was about to slide his credit card into the parking meter, a taxi driver in the street shouted from his car and said that parking was free. Since the nearby signage wasn’t clear, plus the fact that my companions got a parking ticket the last time the three of us were in Washington, they were gun-shy; even though Tom’s co-worker, who had been to D.C. three weeks earlier, had told him about the free parking. Mongo was elated: “This is unbelievable – free parking in Washington on a Friday; that has to be a first. Chalk-up something else to be thankful to the coronavirus for – not only is there hardly any people here to get in our way, we’ll save a lot of time and money by not having to move the car every few hours and pump more cash into the meter.” With smiles on their faces and more cash in their wallets, the three of us set out on the short walk to Constitution Gardens and the Memorial to the 56 Signers of the Declaration of Independence.

The return to that memorial was a 30-year reunion for my photographer and Mongo. The first and only time they had visited the memorial to the 56 signatories, which was located on a small island in the middle of Constitution Gardens Pond, was during their 17-day Declaration of Independence Tour in 1991. As they walked across the small wooden bridge and onto the island, I could instantly tell that my friends felt 30 years younger. The memorial was dedicated in 1984 and consisted of 56 stone blocks, each with a facsimile of the signer’s actual signature, his occupation, and his hometown. Even though each of those 56 brave patriots deserved to be honored, my photographer concentrated on the two who went on to become President of the United States – Thomas Jefferson and John Adams.

Our stay on the Constitution Gardens island was long enough for the three of us to pay tribute to the 56 Signers of the Declaration of Independence before we walked back towards the White House. On our route to the President’s mansion, we stopped at the 52-acre park called ‘The Ellipse’ for two reasons: Bob knew that Klaatu’s spaceship from the movie ‘The Day the Earth Stood Still’ had landed on The Ellipse and Tom wanted to find the spot where President Donald Trump conducted his “now famous” January 6th ‘Save America’ rally four months earlier. During our search for the precise spot where Trump had “inspired” his supporters, my photographer and Mongo ran into some unexpected difficulty – mostly from misinformation from the police who patrolled the south side of the large oval-shaped park. But when Tom used photographic evidence to match up the location; and Bob reaffirmed the area with a cop on the north end of The Ellipse, we were confident when my camera guy placed me on the ground with the White House in the background. I was on, or close to, the site of the ‘Save America’ platform used by President Trump in his final two weeks as Commander in Chief. During the few minutes I stood there posing for a couple of images, it wasn’t a proud moment for me. Not at all. As a matter of fact, all I could do was shake my head – but then again, I’m a bobble head and that’s what we do. The fact remained, however, it was one of the darkest moments in recent American history and no patriotic American should support what had transpired during and after Trump’s speech. But it wasn’t just the President who spoke from that platform on January 6th. His sons, Donald Jr. and Eric, and Eric’s wife Lara Trump, had delivered speeches there as well. And perhaps the most pathetic speaker of all was Rudi Giulliani; who has, in my resin-filled mind, gone from hero to zero in the last twenty years.

I’ve said time and again: “I am a non-partisan bobble head” – it matters not whether a President was a Democrat, Republican, Federalist, Whig, Democratic-Republican, National Union; or in George Washington’s situation, Independent. I do my best to pay tribute and honor all of the U.S. Presidents – no matter what scandals or personal ambitions they may have been involved in or accused of. To me, it’s all part of Presidential history – and that’s the focal point of my entire quest. I stood silently at the site of the ‘Save America’ rally; alone with my thoughts of that January day. Even though I had been there for only a few minutes, it seemed like an eternity – it became the day the Earth stood still; at least in my mind. And maybe, just maybe, that was due to the residuals from Klaatu’s spaceship that had landed close by in 1951.

Thankfully we finished our photoshoot on The Ellipse and we set out on foot to the north side of the White House where the three of us had hoped we’d get a better look at the President’s home. I had to admit, that ten-minute hike along 15th Street brought back a lot of fond memories from 2019 – especially when we went past the gate where we entered the White House grounds for our tour, as well as the spot from where we stood to watch President Trump’s motorcade pass by. But when we arrived in front of the North Portico of the White House, the three of us were once again very disappointed. Tourists were no longer allowed to get close to the tall iron fence that surrounded the grounds; we were forced to stand on the north side of Pennsylvania Avenue. At one point I heard my photographer verbalize his disgust to anyone within earshot: “The White House is supposed to be the People’s House; but we keep getting pushed further and further away – before long, we won’t be allowed to even see it. It’s unfortunate that it seems we’re getting closer by the minute to becoming a Communist nation.” I had wanted to pose for a few images with the White House in the background; mainly because it was my first opportunity to see the Executive Mansion since Joe Biden took office. While my photographer did his best to capture images of me with the historic house, it wasn’t like the days when he held me through the bars of the fence and over the White House lawn for our photos. If we had done that now, we’d likely get shot or taken away in handcuffs.

During our time in front of the White House, or should I say across the street from the White House, I was surprised to see only one person protesting near Lafayette Square. The lone protestor looked like an old guy from the 1960s (like my photographer) and his beef seemed to be with taxes. I thought for sure I’d see a group of people with red hats who believed the current President shouldn’t be living in the White House. Perhaps all of those folks were still laying low after the festivities at The Capitol four months earlier.

As we strolled through Lafayette Square, I was happy to see the equestrian statue of President Andrew Jackson was still intact. I knew the statue, which had been erected in 1853 and was the first bronze statue cast in the United States, came under attack on June 22, 2020. On that day, rioters did their best to tear down Jackson’s bronze image. However, their failed attempt caused authorities to close the park to the public. Lafayette Square had been closed since that terrible day and had just re-opened eleven days prior to our arrival, which made our trek to St. John’s Episcopal Church a bit shorter and more scenic.

“The Church of the Presidents”, which is the nickname of St. John’s Episcopal Church, was built in 1816; which was the year President James Madison selected pew 28 for his private use. Every President since Madison had been an occasional attendee at St. John’s; but none had been a more frequent visitor than Abraham Lincoln during the Civil War. It was discovered that Lincoln habitually joined evening prayer throughout the war and he would sit in an inconspicuous pew in the rear of the church. While it would’ve been a dream-come-true for me to get inside the closed historic church and pose in the President’s pew, the main reason for our visit was for me to stand in the footsteps of President Donald Trump.

After a few minutes of searching for the exact spot, Tom carried me to the boarded-up Ashburton House, which was located behind the church, and placed me exactly where Trump had stood on June 1, 2020. During the height of the George Floyd protests in Lafayette Square, the Trump administration ordered all of the “peaceful protestors” to be forcibly removed so that he could walk to the historic church for a photo-op. When the President arrived at the area of the Ashburton House, where a small fire (that was started by arsonists) had burned the building’s nursery the night before, Donald Trump stood defiantly in front of the noticeboard and held a Bible in his hand for the entire nation, and world, to see. That particular Bible had been carried from the White House to the church by his daughter Ivanka. As I stood in Trump’s footsteps, it was as though I could hear him talking with the “fake news” media who covered the stunt: “We have a great country. Greatest country in the world. We will make it even greater. We will make it even greater and it won’t take long. It’s not going to take long. You see what’s going on. It’s coming back, it’s coming back strong. It’ll be greater than ever before.” I had to laugh to myself when it dawned on me that Donald Trump’s longest sentence during that unrehearsed segment was exactly eleven words in length. I wondered if Trump had graduated from the George W. Bush School of Linguistics.

But then it happened, just after I scoffed at President Trump’s vocabulary outside of St. John’s, my ponytail mysteriously fell off and landed on the cement sidewalk next to my base. It was the first time I had lost my hair since my queue dropped off at Benjamin Harrison’s grave on July 6, 2014. I became instantly concerned; does Gorilla Glue become weak after seven years? I had hoped not; after all, half of my body was held together by that glue.

For nearly three years, President Donald Trump’s leadership had the country in seemingly great shape; especially financially. But that’s what he’s known for – the guy’s a businessman. However, the untimely and controversial coronavirus pandemic started his downward spiral and his handling of the civil unrest throughout the nation sealed the deal. Most people can lead when everything is going well. I’ve always believed that a true leader is measured by how he or she leads during a crisis; and throughout 2020, there was room for improvement. I had stood at two Donald Trump sites in the past 40 minutes, and neither were proud moments for me. But those two snapshots in time don’t define who President Trump was, at least not in my eyes. I see him as the President who was in office when I stood at the doorway to the Oval Office in 2019 and saw the Resolute Desk with my own eyes. Yes, sometimes it is all about me!

When we left St. John’s Church and headed to our next Presidential site, I thought to myself: “After seeing a couple of places that were controversial for the President, I welcome a place where something positive happened to the Commander in Chief.” Little did I know, at least when we began our nearly one-mile hike, that our destination was Ford’s Theater, which also didn’t have a positive outcome for a President. In my mind, we were on a roll! Once my photographer and Bob had completed their ten-block walk to the theater in the extreme heat, they needed to sit down, rehydrate, and get some nourishment. In their minds, Ford’s could wait; even though they never asked my opinion. It was noon, Tom and Bob were exhausted, and there wasn’t a better place to recuperate than the Hard Rock Café located next door to historic Ford’s Theater.

When Tom carried me through the doors of the Hard Rock Cafe, I nearly fell out of my camera case when I saw Paul, the host, proudly wearing a KISS shirt. But it got even better; when my photographer said he’d rather have a table than a booth, Paul said: “We’re next door to Ford’s Theater – we’re not allowed to have a booth here.” I couldn’t stop laughing to myself; I immediately knew that Paul was my kind of guy! Once my companions had eaten their burgers and chugged a pitcher of ice water, they took turns walking around the restaurant to see the rock and roll artifacts that were on display. While I’m a fan of rock music and I saw a couple of displays dedicated to artists that I admire, including Buddy Holly and Elton John, it was the saxophone used by President Bill Clinton that caught my attention. In my mind, there was no way I would ever see a Presidential artifact at a Hard Rock Café; but there it was, hanging on an upper level wall, and I couldn’t pose next to that sax fast enough.

With my companions rehydrated and well-fed, the three of us left a place that had no booths to a place that once had one – Ford’s Theater. But when we arrived at the historic theater, which was next door, we couldn’t get inside. Due to COVID protocol, only people with pre-registered tickets were allowed into the theater; and unfortunately, we weren’t among them. Tom and Bob stopped and talked with NPS Ranger Steve Miller who stood at the doorway to Ford’s, but when my photographer asked Steve if he “flew like an eagle”, that ended any chance of Miller sneaking us inside. That’s right, he was no Joker; but when Steve learned that we had followed the John Wilkes Booth escape route just two days earlier, he offered an alternative option for the three of us. Steve mentioned that we could visit the alley, known as Baptist Alley located behind Ford’s Theater, which was where Booth had made his grand exit after shooting Lincoln on April 14, 1865.

Before we headed for the rear of Ford’s Theater, however, Tom and Bob wanted to capture a few exterior images of the historic theater and the Peterson Boarding House since both were void of people congregated out front. This was my third visit to both historic sites and it was the first where I didn’t see anyone standing outside of Ford’s Theater. There was no way my photographer wasn’t going to take advantage of that. For 15 minutes, I posed for photos outside of Ford’s Theater and across the street at the Peterson House. That boarding house, which had been converted into a museum and was closed due to the darn virus, was where President Lincoln was carried after he was shot inside the theater and where he died roughly nine hours later.

Baptist Alley was located along F Street about halfway between 9th and 10th Streets. When the three of us arrived to that alleyway, my photographer and Bob seemed confused as they didn’t see the back of the theater. But once we walked to the end of that section of the alley, we saw the back of Ford’s Theater at the very end of an alley to the right. The three of us paused for a moment and gazed at the rear of Ford’s Theater. Two days earlier, we had retraced in reverse the entire escape route of Presidential assassin John Wilkes Booth. Finally we had made it to the doorway where Booth’s escape had begun; just a minute or so after he shot President Lincoln in the back of the head. As I posed at the rear of Ford’s Theater, I could see in my mind’s eye Booth exit the stage door and snatch the reigns of his horse out of the hands of Joseph “Peanuts” Burroughs (Ford’s Theater stage doorkeeper). After the actor knocked Burroughs down with the butt end of his knife, Booth rode swiftly out of the alley, onto F Street, and headed east around the Capitol where he continued his escape over the Navy Yard Bridge.

By listening to Tom and Bob talk in the alley behind Ford’s Theater, there seemed to be a sense of accomplishment – we saw where John Wilkes Booth began his escape and two days earlier, we retraced the route that the assassin had travelled, including where his 12-day flight from the law had ended in Port Royal, Virginia. The next time we’re in Washington, I’d like to see my companions somehow find their way into the Presidential box and maybe even get backstage. That would be the icing on the cake, at least in my eyes.

During our walk through Baptist Alley and out to F Street, I heard my photographer tell Mongo that he’s like to return to the car and head out to Walter Reed Hospital. Bob was “all in” as Walter Reed was the hospital where Klaatu had been taken when he was shot the first time in the movie ‘The Day the Earth Stood Still’. For my photographer, however, that historic hospital was where 34th President Dwight Eisenhower had died on March 28, 1969. Whether it was for Ike or Klaatu, we were headed to Walter Reed; and I was anxious to get there.

There were a few times during our 1.3-mile hike back to the Rogue when the three of us stopped; some were for photos and others were to rest. The first time we paused was when we crossed Pennsylvania Avenue at 10th Street. When Tom noticed there was absolutely no traffic, he decided to set me in the middle of Pennsylvania Avenue and photograph me where numerous Presidents had walked on Inauguration Day. As I stood towards the center of the eight-lane Pennsylvania Avenue, I thought of Jimmy Carter who was the first President to walk from The Capitol to the White House on Inauguration Day January 20, 1977. At that moment, I chuckled and said to myself: “Carter’s 96 years old and he could still walk from The Capitol to the White House today. It might take him a bit longer than it did in ’77, but he would still get there faster than Trump or Biden.”

That marked the second time I had stood on a major street in Washington. In 2014, Tom set me down in the middle of Constitution Avenue on the site of the Baltimore and Potomac Railroad Station where James Garfield was shot in 1881. During that photo-op, I came close to getting run over. When I posed for those few minutes on Pennsylvania Avenue, however, I was shocked by the lack of vehicular traffic on a Friday afternoon; it seemed as though I could’ve stood there for a while before getting hit.

After a brief respite on the steps of the National Archives Museum, which was closed due to COVID restrictions, my photographer and Mongo made the long journey back to The Ellipse where the Rogue was parked. I had to admit, it seemed to take a long time for them to complete the nearly one-mile walk from the Archives to the car. But in reality, 45 minutes wasn’t terribly bad since my travel mates were forced to sit in the shade a few times to cool down.

Back inside the car, which was hot from sitting in the direct sunlight all day, Bob headed for the original Walter Reed Army Medical Center that was roughly eight miles to the north. Our route took us past Jose Cunningham’s house on 16th Street, which made Mongo smile. However, the afternoon traffic and road construction quickly removed that smile from the big guy’s face. It could’ve gotten even worse when we arrived near our destination, but Bob got lucky and found an easy-access parking spot along Georgia Avenue that wasn’t too far from the Walter Reed complex. As we approached the entrance to the complex on foot, however, my companions weren’t too sure that our luck hadn’t run out. It appeared that heavy construction was in progress and it looked as though pedestrians might not be allowed to access that entire area. With their ” it’s better to beg for forgiveness rather than ask for permission” attitude, the three of us walked onto the property, past the construction zone, and on to our final destination – Walter Reed Army Medical Center “Building 1”.

Although Walter Reed had closed and was relocated in 2011 when it merged with the Bethesda Naval Hospital, the buildings were in the process of being redeveloped into commercial and residential spaces known as ‘Parks at Walter Reed’. When we finished the 300-yard walk to the front of the main building, I thought the former hospital looked immaculate; although the ornate fountain in front was dry and appeared weathered. It seemed unreal in my mind to stand in front of that building as I’ve dreamt of visiting there for the past seven years. Walter Reed Army Medical Center wasn’t just another famous hospital that my companions wanted to photograph. It was in fact the site where President Dwight D. Eisenhower had died on March 28, 1969 from congestive heart failure at the age of 78. And nearly two decades earlier, it was the fictitious site where Klaatu was taken after soldiers shot him shortly after the alien’s spaceship landed on The Ellipse in the 1951 movie “The Day the Earth Stood Still”. As Tom placed me in several locations on and near the building, there was no way to know for sure where Ike’s room was located when the former President passed away. As far as Klaatu’s hospital room from the movie, that was likely filmed in a Hollywood studio.

We spent over a half-hour during our visit to the front of Walter Reed Hospital, which gave the three of us plenty of time to appreciate that facility and its historic contributions to the Presidents of the United States. At least a couple of the Presidents, anyway. When we were finished, Tom placed me inside the camera case for the quarter-mile walk to our vehicle. During that time, I realized how important that stop was for my personal Presidential quest. In my book, there are five primary boxes to check for each President; each of those five boxes represent essential sites for each Commander in Chief that I must visit: Birthplace, Childhood home, Adult home, Place of death, and Gravesite. All of the other sites we visit, large and small, help tell the Presidents story and fill-in the gaps. Those five primary Presidential sites, however, are on the top of my list and Walter Reed Army Medical Center just checked another box in my Presidential book.

It was a bit past four o’clock when we made it back to the Rogue and I knew my companions were “running on empty”. As a matter of fact, I was shocked when I heard Tom suggest that we drive back to the hotel where he and Bob could get an early dinner, take a nap to recharge their batteries, and then head back into D.C. to see the monuments at night. There was a time, or so I’ve heard, when those two guys could go nonstop from sunup to sundown every day during their travels – but it seemed as though those days were now behind them. Truth be told, and I don’t want Tom or Bob to know this, I’m impressed by the number of sites they still pack into each day.

Once my companions awoke from their naps at 7:45pm, they were refreshed and anxious to head back into Washington. The three-hour snooze seemed to put a bounce back into their steps and their Taco Bell dinner filled their “gas tanks”; with an emphasis on the word “gas”. After Mongo was able to find a parking place in West Potomac Park, which was difficult that Friday evening as it seemed a lot more people had the same idea as us, my travel mates and I headed out on foot to the Lincoln Memorial just as the sun tickled the horizon in the west.

While we didn’t see many people during the daylight hours when we toured Washington on either day, the tourists made up for it Friday night; and the Lincoln Memorial seemed to be a magnet for them. The crowd of people was as thick as the flying insects, both of which were terribly annoying. But I couldn’t blame the tourists for being there; the Lincoln Memorial, when illuminated at night, is one of the most spectacular sites in our entire country. When Tom carried me up the steps of the crowded memorial that was dedicated to our 16th President, the imposing statue of Lincoln came into view and I was once again instantly awestruck. I knew for a fact that most of the Presidents of the United States had visited that memorial since it was dedicated by President Warren G. Harding in 1922 and it was a privilege for me stand where they had once stepped foot.

When we finished our visit at the Lincoln Memorial, I thought our night was over; but I was wrong. Tom and Bob decided to walk the entire length of the 2,030-foot-long Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool and maybe onward to the Washington Monument. But once my companions had reached the World War II Memorial at the western end of the Reflecting Pool, they realized they had made a mistake. Not only were they once again “out of gas” from a full day, they were tired of swatting the flying insects that followed us everywhere. I had to laugh to myself after they retraced our steps back towards the Lincoln Memorial and then on to the Rogue; they simply collapsed into the car from pure exhaustion.

Unfortunately for my photographer, his evening didn’t end when we returned to the hotel at 10:10pm. Instead, Tom had to don his surgical gear to re-attach my ponytail that had mysteriously fallen off outside of St. John’s Church earlier in the day. While that procedure lasted less than 15 minutes, I knew that gluing my hair back onto my head was the last thing Tom wanted to do before he extinguished the lights and closed his eyes. Even though my photographer was asleep just minutes after he placed me alongside the TV set, it felt great to have my ponytail re-attached. Since I’m now a semi-famous bobble head, I have an image to uphold in front of the camera and there was no doubt I looked a bit goofy without my queue. I knew I had to look my best for the following day’s adventures. After all, we were headed to Delaware where I’d get my first chance to visit the sites associated with our newest President – Joseph Robinette Binen, Jr. But as I stood silent in the darkness, I wondered to myself: “Who in the heck would give their male child the middle name of Robinette?” Maybe there was only one answer, and one answer only: “Klaatu barada nikto!”