Last weekend, the family went on one of our illustrious “h-istor-ikes” in which we combine a walk through somewhere pretty with a walk through time. We did this often outside DC where there were plenty of Civil War battlefields to explore. Now that we’re in Boston, the h-istor-ikes have taken a Revolutionary War turn, and our sojourn to the Minuteman trail in Lexington did not disappoint.
Colin and my historical interests break down along embarrassingly predictable gender lines. I want to know about the daily life: how did it feel to toil away in the summer sun wearing a long cotton gingham dress? What did it take to put a plate of food on the table? What was on that plate of food? Colin wants to know where the battle lines were drawn, who won and how.
Our guided trip down the Minutemen trail, with battle stories and actors in period dress fulfilled both our interests. Colin learned about the Minute Man who sent his servant back to the tavern to fetch his salmon even with the British breathing down their necks, and I learned that everyone, including children, drank alcoholic cider instead of water which was polluted from livestock. Caleb enjoyed drawing in the dirt with sticks, saying “hi” to passing bikes and yelling at the odd dog.
We learned that each town at the time had a militia of all able-bodied males from ages 16-60, but that the Minutemen were an elite corps of the strongest men who trained weekly and were ready to fight in literally a minute. The cause for fighting, as told by our guides, was weighted with explanations of patriotism and lofty idealism. These settlers were fighting imperialist Great Britain for their rights and their land. Though, of course, if their efforts had failed, someone in British garb would be telling us about the unruly and ungrateful colonists beleaguerer the brave fighting Brits. But I’d still be interested in the buttons on their uniforms, Colin in their military strategy and Caleb would still be happy drawing with sticks in the dirt oblivious to the history but closest to what started it all: the land.
