Tags
Australia, Cleveland, James A Garfield, Ohio, President Garfield, President of the United States, Road Trip
The photo taken by the anonymous Australians.
“Oh, were you one of the ones on the road from Hell from Columbus?” the guide asked Amber as she walked in several steps behind me. “Yep, that’s us.” I was looking in the grand mausoleum. It was the Mausoleum dedicated to President James A. Garfield in Cleveland, Ohio. My friend, Amber, invited me on a road trip to Maine and this stop was one of the incentives for me to come. This is probably our most quotable from the trip. I had called ahead to let them know we were pushing the closing time due to traffic in Columbus. When he found out we actually came from Texas, he was surprised, but not as much as when he found out we were headed to Maine. He was floored to say the least. Any normal person would have been.
After twenty-five minutes or so of conversation, the kind guide closed up the mausoleum for the evening. Amber and I roamed the exterior of the property, as I snapped photos from the Nikon I rented. It was beautiful. The photos I saw prior to the trip didn’t do the monument justice. As we came to our complete circle, I saw some people to the side. “When did he serve?” the gentleman asked. Amber pointed to me: “Ask him.” I told them that he served in 1881, but was only able to serve for four months before being sunset by an assassin. They then asked about the assassination to which I told them more. I honestly gave them more than they expected to hear, but they were captivated by the stories I told them.
“Did you take the tour?” they asked, inferring that I probably learned all of the info from the tour. “No, I missed the tour.” They followed it up with “What’s your interest with the president?” “I’m planning to write a screenplay about the President in a couple of years.” I told them I was a filmmaker, that it was God’s calling on my life to make films. I informed them about my research on President Garfield over the past couple of years. I told them that I am fascinated with his life and felt there is a good story there, much like Lincoln.
As we talked further, they told us they were from Australia. The man was originally from Cleveland, but married his wife, originally from Australia. They have lived there for four years. She didn’t speak loudly enough for me to hear her full accent, and he definitely had a developing Australian accent, though only slight. It was clear that he had his origins here. They told us some good tourist information about traveling to Australia (Amber is planning a trip in early 2016). They were very nice people.
Before they departed, they took our picture in front of the mausoleum with my camera and then one with their camera. “This is a part of the story,” they said. “We’ll have this photo when the credit rolls across the screen.” I smiled wide for the picture.