Just two weeks ago I arrived at the Louisville airport, two hours late but ready for our adventures. Now, as I am riding back to Owensboro, I can’t help but reflect upon the wonderful trip to New England. As one of three non-English majors on the trip, I admit I was worried about not knowing as much about the American authors. Though this fear was real because my knowledge of American literature was severely lacking, I loved this trip. I could never have learned or experienced literature in a better way than visiting the sites outlined in this expedition. I was even inspired to look into an English minor, something I never considered before.

Being one of three non-English majors on this trip, I did not truly realize the significance of our visit to Houghton Library, which houses Harvard’s rare book collection, until after we left the building. The librarian, Susan Halpert, took us to the Emily Dickinson room where we saw original manuscripts of Dickinson’s poetry. Unbound from their fascicles, we could see the holes along the edges of the paper where thread once was. Only existing in her first draft, the poetry remains unfinished, a fact that could be seen through the elaborate system of symbols denoting a variant to the original word. After seeing the manuscripts, we entered a smaller room, which housed the very bureau where Emily’s sister, Lavinia, found her sister’s poetry after her death. This room also contained needlework Emily sewed, original portraits of the Dickinson children and the books Emily read.

As if this were not enough to please our group of literary scholars, we were then allowed to view an array of original manuscripts by other authors we have been studying. We saw journals of Melville, Thoreau and Emerson and the last draft of Hawthorne’s House of the Seven Gables. These weren’t photocopies, reproductions, or second editions. We were able to see and even touch original manuscripts of these authors. Halpert, realizing our astonishment, reassured us that “these authors were real, flesh and blood.” It wasn’t as though I didn’t believe these words. I understood that the authors once lived, but after seeing their journals, their actual penmanship, I did feel as though I had some connection with the great American authors.

As a child, the only traveling my mom and I did were one-week trips to Florida. This year, being away at college and on my own, I have been able to venture to more exciting cities. Either with the Honors Program or with new friends I met in the program, I have visited Philadelphia, New York City and Chicago. There was just something different about Boston. The city, full of history and culture, was inviting, a perfect host to college students with the numerous institutions of the city.

Our first site in the city was the Freedom Trail. Stops along the trail included Boston Common, Park Street Church and Granary Burying Ground, First Public School Site and Ben Franklin Statue, Boston Massacre Site and many more. Our guide was once a history teacher, and played the character of Hannah Adams, cousin to Samuel Adams. Whether because of her experience as a teacher or a tour guide, she knew how to keep our attention. As she asked us questions at each site, Hannah rewarded us with a lollipop for a right answer. Terrible at on-the-spot answers, I got a pity sucker at the conclusion at the end of the tour. Despite my lack of response, I enjoyed the Freedom Trail and Hannah. Next time, maybe I’ll just win all of the suckers!

The cold, rainy weather caught up with me…quickly! My free day in Nantucket was spent in bed for some much needed R&R. After an allergy attack at the turn of spring in Kentucky, I thought I was over the sniffles, coughs and sneezes. I didn’t think about springtime in New England. Armed with a box of tissues, a bag of cough drops and enough over-the-counter medication to get me through the rest of the trip, I am ready to push on to Bean Town.

Light houses, cobblestone streets, quaint shops and a nor’easter— Nantucket was unforgettable. After a rainy day in Plymouth, we were ready for warmth and relaxation. However, we didn’t find either for some time. Only thirty miles off the coast of Cape Cod, Nantucket is just like I always imagined— well, with less rain.

The rain pouring, our group got off the ferry onto the island into a harsh Nantucket night. No cab could hold all of our group and our luggage, so we proceeded on to our lodging. Rolling suitcases and cobblestones are not a friendly combination, especially when you add in a torrential downpour.

Though the travel to Nantucket was not the highlight of our excursion on the small island, the Maria Mitchell Museum, our wonderful hostel-like accommodation, very well could have been. The apartment, quarters for summer astronomy interns, had a full kitchen, a comfortable meeting room (complete with a computer), two bathrooms (14 people to 2 bathrooms, actually a pretty good ratio compared to previous accommodations) and full showers with great water pressure. Obviously, it doesn’t take much to impress a small-town girl from Kentucky!

Today was forecasted as the most “touristy” day of all, a fact that was obviously true after entering Salem. We visited the House of the Seven Gables, which according to a poster within the visitor’s center is in the top ten most visited homes in America. The house, complete with secret passageways and intricate architecture, was wonderfully interesting but unfortunately fake. Caroline Emmerton bought the property in 1908 for the express purpose of using the tourist trade to support her Settlement House Association—to help in the settlement of immigrant families. The house opened for tourists in 1910. Emmerton asked an architect, Joseph Everett Chandler, to restore the house to its state when Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote House of the Seven Gables. The museum curator and historians have since decided, however, that many of the features were added during a popular period known as “colonial revival” and are unfortunately incorrect or simply for the sake of the novel. For example, a penny-shop was added on the first floor, a room that directly reflected the novel, not the history of the house. Also, the secret passageway, though a fun aspect of the architecture, was also added to help boost ticket sales of the newly preserved house. Our tour guide said this passageway even confused the curator and historians, who thought this secret stairwell may have been used to hide slaves. This, of course, was not true. Thus far, this has been the least authentic house we have visited. I can’t help but think it is perfectly set in Salem, a city that capitalizes on the image of the witch, brought on by the events of the Salem Witch Trials.

The sky overcast, we worried about our venture on the sea with Captain Bill & Sons Whale Watch. One hour off the coast of Gloucester, through the cold, bitter wind, we saw our first whale. At first, just the sight of its fins piercing the ocean surface was enough to excite our group of fourteen. But soon after, we were fortunate enough to see numerous whales feed. Their tails would disappear into the water, seemingly for several minutes, until suddenly the whales exploded from the water, mouths open, catching fish. In all, we saw more than ten whales. This adventure was a nice break from our learning expeditions, an adventure I will never forget.

Having visited three historic homes the previous day, where we were clearly instructed not to touch anything, it came as a shock when our tour guide at the Emerson home asked us to take a seat in the study. I turned to Jessie and in disbelief said, “This must be replica furniture.” To our amazement, however, the guide informed us that the very furniture we were sitting in was authentic furniture Emerson and his family once used. For this reason, the Emerson home was the best historic home we visited.
Once in the master bedroom of the house, the guide removed Emerson’s robes from his closet and handled them, showing us the details of the garment. Because of this informal presentation, it felt as though we were visitors in a home rather than a museum. It seemed as though Emerson himself could return to here and feel right at home.
As we left the home, gathering in a circle in the lawn, we found one more pleasant surprise. A descendent of Emerson, a great, great, great, great, great grandson or some equally distant relation was outside, running about the house doing some handiwork. Like the tourists we are, we snapped tons of pictures of this poor man, amazed that we were seeing an actual relative of Ralph Waldo Emerson.

The only word that comes to mind when trying to describe Walden Pond is tranquility. After traveling, exploring, learning and discovering, our visit to Walden Pond calmed our group and gave me, in particular, time to reflect. When visiting something as incredible as Walden Pond, the very inspiration for Thoreau’s Walden, one must dip their feet in the water. This was at least my philosophy while visiting the site. Cold though it was, I walked along the shore of the pond, shoes in hand, thinking about this amazing trip, and the authors around which it is centered. After visiting the homes of Hawthorne, Emerson, the Alcotts, and now Thoreau, I realized how influential their surroundings were in their writing. Emerson, at The Old Manse, sat at his desk, looked out the window and used his backyard as the inspiration for Nature. Louisa May Alcott took the home in which she grew up to set her novel Little Women. And Thoreau, inspired by Walden Pond, wrote Walden.

Though I love Kentucky, New England is a beautiful and inspiring place to be right now.

After a long day of traveling and running late, our first day of learning was great. (I should clarify—I was running late, not the group. I set my alarm for 4:15 a.m. the morning of our departure; however, I didn’t wake up until 6:15 a.m. With a record-setting drive to Louisville, I made it with time to spare. Needless to say, my trip did not begin so well.) One of our first stops was at the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. Hawthorne, Thoreau, the Alcotts and Emerson are buried here, all within close proximity of each other. Their graves, marked with one large family gravestone as well as individual markers, are simple, very minimalist. Professor Rutledge made the comment while at Sleepy Hollow, “It’s nice to see the simplicity of these authors—they weren’t ostentatious at all.” I can’t help but agree with him. These authors lived in a time when wealth was the measure of a person’s character, yet they chose to follow their own paths of individualism.

The day continuing, the group visited The Old Manse, once home to Emerson and Hawthorne. This house, seemingly boring from the outside, abounded with history once we entered the doors. Our booty-clad feet stepped neatly around the rooms as we soaked in the stories from the tour guide. The Old Manse was in Emerson's family for generations before he asked Hawthorne and his new bride, Sophia, to move in. As Professor Rutledge said, Nathaniel and Sophia were “deliriously in love,” evident from the etchings Sophia scratched in the windowpane in this house. This remaining feature of the house, eerie yet spectacular, was my favorite part of the day.