Category: Uncategorized

Dessert Should Always Follow Dinner by Daniel P Cannon

Picture it: It was Sunday March 22, 2015 and I was twenty one and a half years old.  I literally rolled out of bed and on to the floor so that my day could start. Normally on Sundays I sleep in and then stumble my way through work but this Sunday was different. I was to visit the Edgar Allan Poe House on 7th Street and then stumble my way through work. I walked the dogs, downed a Rice Krispy treat, and made my way to the bus at around 9:20am. All I could think about was how the sunny weather was so inappropriate and how I really needed an overcast sky or rain to truly get into the gothic state of mind Poe occupied. From the bus I went to the El and soon enough I was at the Spring Garden stop. The streets were somewhat empty of pedestrians and so I had a lot of time to think about what was about to happen. These thoughts left my mind when I saw the Raven statue outside and I knew I was in the right place. I walked up to the door, knocked once, and was let inside by the Ranger.

The first thing you see when you walk in is a gift shop full of Poe books and memorabilia. I own a Complete Tales and Poetry by Poe so none of this was of any particular interest. The Ranger informed me that the information movie was just beginning and then after that I could take the self-guided tour. The movie was informative and helped get me even more acquainted with Poe. The Ranger handed me a laminated self-guided tour sheet and told me which stairs to avoid and which direction to go. She told me I could start or end with the cellar saying, “It’s like dessert because it is the best part.” I chose to go to the cellar first. I walked down the steps, opened the door, and went inside. The door shut behind me.

My first real encounter with Poe was in 8th grade. It was his birthday and so to celebrate him, our principal read us “The Raven” and “The Tell-Tale Heart” on the top floor of our old school building which was still decorated for the Haunted house we throw every year. Each of us had to move old leaves off the ground and sit Indian style as we were read these horror tales. Nothing struck me as particularly but this started an interest in Poe that I have not been able to shake. I bought a book, watched any special I could about him, and reveled any time that we discussed a story of his in high school English. I enjoyed him immensely but I was never scared of him. Then the door shut behind me.

It was an old school cellar. It was all stone and a lone staircase sat in the middle of the floor. I could see storm doors on the opposite side of the room but they were shut tightly. Everything was quiet and the only light was from two tiny windows on my right. I looked around and at this point, everything in my body was telling me to leave. I don’t know about ghosts or the supernatural, but I felt something in that cellar that scared the hell out of me. The rest of the house seems like a blur and it makes me wish that I saved the cellar for last because it wouldn’t have ruined everything else for me. Dessert should always follow dinner.

I spent the ride home texting my mom to try and calm myself down. I went into the basement of a horror icon and I finally felt the horror that inhabited most of his stories. I do not want to go back again.

Image Credits:

http://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/05/fe/c3/d3/edgar-allan-poe-national.jpg

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/2/24/EAP-NHS–Exterior.jpg

Edgar Allan Poe on Drunk History by Edward Thomas McGovern

I, like most people, read Edgar Allan Poe in High School. Before then, my only real exposure to him was from the Simpsons, which featured a parody of “The Raven” in the first “Treehouse of Horror” and had Lisa’s rival building a diorama based on “The Tell Tale Heart” in the episode “Lisa’s Rival”. I knew little about him, other that he wrote some pretty creepy stuff.  The stories we read in high school supported my idea of Poe as a guy who wrote really unsettling horror. That was my idea of Poe, until one day I was watching Drunk History.

https://youtu.be/75cWpzc8Uv8

If you are unfamiliar with the show, Drunk History started as a web series but is now a show on Comedy Central. The premise is that someone gets really drunk and recounts a moment in history. Intercut with them sitting down telling the story are recreations, usually staring well known guest stars, who lip synch along to the narrator’s version of history. It might sound a little confusing on paper, but it only takes a few seconds to get accustomed to the style when you’re actually watching it.

On the episode “Baltimore”, Duncan Trussell narrates the segment on Rufus Griswold and Edgar Allan Poe.  Jason Ritter plays Rufus Griswold and Jesse Plemons from Breaking Bad plays Edgar Allan Poe. The short segments talks about the rivalry between the two. Obviously, it’s not meant to be a 100% historical recounting of the two men’s relationship, but it does a good job of showing Edgar Allan Poe as a critic and not just a man who writes poems and horror stories. It gives a glimpse at how ruthless he could be in his reviews, something that I got a glimpse of at the Edgar Allan Poe Nation Historic Site.

So while it may not be the most historically accurate account of Edgar Allan Poe, it is a funny way of showing Poe as someone other than what he is commonly known as. It got me much more interested in hearing about his relationships with his contemporaries and his thoughts on their work.

Bobblehead Poe by Lea Millip

When I think of Edgar Allan Poe, it is not his horror stories or dreary personality Bobbleheadthat I think about first, it is the memory of an Edgar Allan Poe bobblehead that sat atop my eighth grade teacher’s desk.  That stupid, freaky, bobbling bobblehead.  It never seemed to stop bobbling and I always felt that it was staring at me.  I originally did not know who the bobblehead was but after we read some of Poe’s stories, my English teacher shameless professed her obsession with Poe and her love for that bobblehead.  As we have been debating whether or not Poe is an American icon, I keep going back to this memory.  It is clear to me, and I assume most people, that Poe is a literary icon.  After all, it was my English teacher who had the obsession with Poe.  My class even went on a field trip to the University of Pennsylvania to watch a production of a few Poe tales.  I am personally not a literature or English fanatic but I do have respect for Poe’s works and think he deserves to be recognized as a literary icon.

Happy POeIn the debate of whether or not Poe is a Philadelphia icon, I make the argument that he is indeed a Philadelphia icon.  I support Philadelphia professor Ed Pettit’s argument in The Great Poe Debate that we remember a writer for their works and Poe’s most productive writing years were in Philadelphia.  Pettit also says that Philadelphia was the “crucible for Poe’s imagination”.  I would say that Philadelphia has been the crucible for many a successful people’s imaginations.  I do not think the quantity of time one has spent in the city is as relevant as the quality of one’s time spent there.  Poe’s time in Philadelphia was quality time.

Back to the bobblehead- it is no doubt that Poe is an icon.  Not everyone gets a bobblehead.  It is the type of icon that requires further investigation.  As previously stated, Poe is a literary and Philadelphia icon under my examination.  But I just cannot seem to let Poe fall under the title of “American icon”.  I wouldn’t go so far as to say Poe did anything wrong, he just failed to make the cut.  I never heard of anyone who admired Poe’s personality or “charm” if that’s what you would like to call it.  His gloomy personality is a main reason why he is not an American icon; I think it is safe to say Americans would rather not feel the way Poe felt or purposely imitate his depression and misery.  However, it seems only fitting that the Poe bobblehead in my old classroom freaked me out.  I think Poe himself would freak me out too.

 

Sources:

The Great Poe Debate with Ed Pettit, Jeff Jerome and Paul Lewis, moderated by Grover Silcox

http://www.oldies.com/product/topsellers.cfm/format_Gifts-Collectibles_genre_Gift-Pop-Culture.html

http://www.quickmeme.com/Hipster-Edgar-Allan-Poe

The Poe House and America’s Underdogs by Nicole Thomas

In visiting the Poe house, I found myself most excited to go into the cellar. I saved the cellar for last, and when I got there, I found it to be satisfyingly creepy, but I wasn’t scared, I was fascinated. I found it interesting that the Park Service did not clean the cobwebs on the ceiling. These cobwebs acted as a natural decoration of the cellar and added to that creepy feeling one gets when they think of Poe, especially in the dark cellar where he once lived. The empty house leaves everything up to the imagination, and as someone who is familiar with Poe, the emptiness of the house is the best part. In the podcast of The Great Poe Debate, Paul Lewis, the representative from Boston said something very interesting that really hit the nail on the head: “No city can claim Poe. He is a figure of world literature” (33:46). Poe’s works are so popular around the world, and if he was alive today, I don’t think he would want us to credit his legacy to a certain city. Poe gave his legacy to us, his readers through his mystifying works. Philadelphia, Boston and Baltimore should be honored to have been a part of his journey in fascinating and captivating the entire world. Those three cities in particular have an intimate connection with Poe, and should feel lucky to have that connection. Without Poe’s works, The Poe House in Philadelphia would just be an empty house.

In The Great Poe Debate audio, in his opening statement, Paul Lewis (Boston) jokingly says “We know how badly underdogs do in American society”, and then shortly after, Philadelphian Ed Pettit is introduced. Pettit comes on stage accompanied by “Gonna Fly Now” the iconic theme song from Rocky. This made me laugh, and then I found myself realizing that Edgar Allan Poe and Rocky Balboa are very similar. Who would have thought that one of the best writers in the world has something in common with a fictional, Philadelphia native boxing icon? Like Rocky, Poe was just a poor underdog, looking to find his way in the world. Then I began thinking about all the Rosie’s, Wonder Woman, Cowboys in Westerns, the Migrant Mother, even John Henry. So many of America’s icons began at the bottom and rose up from the ashes. They were all underdogs, and we love them for it. There is something so satisfying and rewarding to America about the idea of the underdog. Can this be because America itself started out as an underdog? As a country we have been through so many hardships:  The Industrial Revolution (John Henry), The Civil War (Betsy Ross), Migrating West, The Great Depression (Migrant Mother), The Populist Era (The Wizard of Oz), World War 2 (Rosie the Riveter/Wonder Woman), and we made it through all of them. We fought our Apollo Creed’s (Rocky) and our contemptible publishers (Poe) and we made it out alive (for the most part).

Disappointing look into Poe’s home by Samantha Rae Goslee

Before this class I had never known that Edgar Allen Poe had lived in Philadelphia, that he had rented so many houses here; I never knew he had been so close to my home. Although I’m not a huge fan of poetry, I can still really appreciate Poe’s shorts stories and poems. They give you a good sense of what he was going through psychologically at the time of them being written and finding out that a majority of his most famous works were inspired by my city make them all the more special.

I was excited after learning that we were to visit the Poe house. I was excited in general that there even was a Poe house. My mind started racing on what it could look like, what new information and little secrets his house would tell me that I had never known before. I couldn’t wait to experience how spooky and chilling it would be inside. His writings give you a look into his mind but maybe his house could give you an even clearer view. I planned the trip and decided to bring my little sister along since shes at the age I had first learned about Poe. I was disappointed to learn that she barely knew who he was besides a familiar sounding name, all the more reason to bring her.

My sister, boyfriend, and I were all disappointed by the house. We were all expecting more. There was no furniture, the house was very worn down (but I guess that is to be expected considering how old it is) and there wasn’t very much information besides the general knowledge on the walls when you first walk in. Someones room can tell a lot about a person – the type of things they have up on their walls, the type of furniture they have, the way they organized those things but Poe’s house was bare, it couldn’t tell me anything.

Most of the rooms were normal, I didn’t get any weird vibes from them and I’m disappointed to say I didn’t see any props that the rest of the class apparently saw. My favorite room aside from the cellar was Muddy’s room. If I ever was to live in that house, for whatever reason, I would claim that room in a heartbeat. Even though the sun was shining bright through the windows, lighting up the room, it still had a very haunted feel to it. It may have been the dark, peeling paint, or something else. The cellar was the best part – as soon as you stepped in you got eerie vibes. It was dark, musky, very old and fall apart. It was really neat to experience and view the house that had inspired some stories like The Black Cat and to see the wall where the narrator’s wife had been apparently holed up.I think I enjoy Poe so much because I grew up with my parents taking me to haunted attractions even when I was very little and Poe is a staple in the horror genre.

After visiting the house, doing the reading, and listening to the podcast, I still don’t think Poe is just a Philadelphia icon. Even if most of his most popular pieces were written in or inspired by the city, he only lived here for a little bit and that inspiration is the only thing that could possibly connect him to here more than anywhere else he had lived.

The Wildwood Boardwalk Connected Childhood to Adulthood by Richard Arter Flanagan

When one looks down a road, what do they see? They may see the dawn of a new day. They may see the sun setting after a long day, hoping tomorrow will be better. The road has both a physical and conceptual meaning: it is both a physical road people drive or walk upon, and a path taken from one point to the next such as life or a career.  Whatever one’s interpretation of the road, it is not without its bumps or traffic buildup.  The road has been perceived to be both a place of freedom and a trap, but sometimes it’s merely a mirage created by an individual to avoid issues in their life. Still, the road can create an overwhelming connection between a person and a place.  Wildwood, New Jersey illustrates this concept.

Wildwood has been a staple for summer family vacations since its inception in 1912. The combination of luxurious and spacious beaches, warm weather and great memories made there are what make the destination a tremendous place to vacation to.  What really makes Wildwood such a memorable place is its boardwalk and the more than 70,000 wooden planks which constitute its structural makeup. Still, when one looks down this vast boardwalk and sees Morey’s Piers, all the restaurants and shops, and the laughter of children, people see more than just planks of wood.  They see how the road that leads to the end of the boardwalk has transcended through history.  Particular shops or stands were originally built as something else. Hearing “watch the tramcar, please” invokes memories of when adults would walk the boardwalk as children.

The boardwalk is seen as a path from childhood to adulthood.  With each passing block and the increased sight of shops, games and restaurants, one begins to reminisce about their past visits to Wildwood and how much they’ve grown with the boardwalk.  They’ve walked up and down the boardwalk time and time again, and they’ve see shops and restaurants come and go.  Yet, they continued to return, and bring their family or friends with them.  The boardwalk was a path between childhood and adulthood.  The memories invoked by the boardwalk are a direct connection from one’s childhood to adulthood.  They can always return to the boardwalk, and those memories come back to them almost immediately. Even when the boardwalk has bumps or traffic from bikers, broken planks or construction, the boardwalk has remained the same.  It has always been the connection that binds an adult to their childhood.  An adult may get pulled from the boardwalk with work, family and increased responsibility, but that road down the boardwalk meant something special to them.  They would not have returned if it did not, and something kept making them come back.  The Wildwood Boardwalk is the connection between adulthood and childhood, and it always for an escape.  The only trap put forth by the boardwalk would be spending too much money, but for the creation of special memories, it’s more than worthwhile.

Sources

1. http://wildwoodhistory.org/history-of-wildwoods.html

 

The Cruise Control Culture by Michael Vecchione

Unfortunately, in the electric powered, climate controlled, and pine tree air-freshened vehicles of today, the drive has taken a backseat to the destination. In the movie Cars, a 2006 Pixar Animation Studios production, the history of Route 66 is used as a teaching tool to relate the common roadway to a place of freedom. The main character of the film, Lightning McQueen, is a racecar accustomed to the loose lifestyle and the fame that accompanies being a top competitor in the World Grand Prix. Lightning McQueen is introduced to the idea that it is important, when on the road, to slow down and enjoy the ride that the road offers as much as the destination it is leading to.

https://youtu.be/ggtH05LFF3k

Sally, another main character of the film and a Route 66 local, already possesses this appreciation for the road. In an attempt to pass this appreciation on to Lightning McQueen, she states that before highways were constructed, “Cars came across the country a whole different way…The road didn’t cut through the land like that interstate. It moved with the land…it rose, it fell, it curved. Cars didn’t drive on it to make great time. They drove on it to have a great time.” The film does an excellent job of comparing how roads were used before June 29, 1956, when President Dwight D. Eisenhower signed into law the National Interstate and Defense Highways Act, and how they were used after. Prior to the passing of this piece of legislation, from which came the construction of major highways, driving was not seen as a nuisance or a task that had to be completed before progress could be made on something more significant.

Driving, and the emotions, feelings, and sights that the act produced, was done by many citizens living in the United States for leisure and enjoyment. When interstates and highways became more prevalent in the country, the act and purpose of driving was transformed.  Driving was given a new definition. In the work “Landscape in Sight,” author, publisher, instructor, and sketch artist in landscape design John Jackson claims that the road developed into a place of, “managed authoritarian system of steady, uninterrupted flow for economic benefits” (Jackson 192). With this new purpose, driving became something done as a step to achieve something greater or more pleasurable. The focus of the driver was directed towards to destination and no longer what the journey itself had to offer. Contemporarily, this mindset is overwhelmingly what drivers in the United States have when they enter their vehicle. Whether driving to work, school, or a vacation, most drivers want to know the easiest and fastest way to get to their destination and not necessarily the most scenic or adventurous.

Cars. Perf. Owen Wilson, Bonnie Hunt, Paul Newman. Buena Vista Home Entertainment, 2006. Film.

Jackson, John Brinckerhoff, and Helen Lefkowitz Horowitz. “The Road Belongs in the Landscape.” Landscape in Sight: Looking at America. New Haven: Yale UP, 1997. Print.

“What Exit?” by Meredith L Pymer

What exit are you from?” If you are from New Jersey, I don’t have to specify that I’m looking for the exit you take on the New Jersey Turnpike. Being from Pennsylvania, this obsession with exits made me furrow my brow and wrinkle my nose. I’m not even sure what exit I take to get off at home. However, having dinner with my friend’s family, in which exit 98 merchandise was distributed, I knew that the exit you took in Jersey was apart of your identity as a resident.

Living in New Jersey, you constantly get tourists and vacationers traveling through your state to get to ‘the shore’. Hence the lingo of ‘Shoebe’ and phrase, ‘Benny, go home!’ New Jersey natives struggle with their own identity in the midst of being a popular summertime destination. Other than calling the next New Yorker you see as a Benny, the use of “What exist?” also tries to distinguish a native from a tourist, promoting community.

Unlike New Jersey and their use of exits, Route 66 has gone from being the means of travel to the destination itself. Andrew Wood writes in Two Roads Diverge “After all, this notion of seeking the ‘real’ through travel, and the presumed inauthenticity of tourism whether related to the American roadside or to the broader process of global tourism” (Wood, 70). Wood discusses how Route 66 has become its own tourist attraction where the ‘authentic experience’ is being replicated by the businesses that inhabit the area, and the people themselves who work there. Wood speaks of finding the “efforts to recreate the road by simulation and simulacra that call to question the very authenticity that Route 66 represents”  (Wood, 70). In a sense, the tourists have taken over the once traveled road, that itself was not a destination but a means of getting there.

In contrast Route 66, tourist attraction, thinking about the use of exists in New Jersey residents’ identities can mirror the use of roads to the authenticity of New Jersey. The claim of being from Jersey can easily be supported by proudly proclaiming what exit you take. The road signifies a sense of authentic nature for New Jersey; one may use the turnpike to get to the beach. Tourists are not able to claim their stake of the road, for the exit they take is not inherently relevant to them. In this sense the use of the road aims to limit and reject tourism in New Jersey unlike Route 66, the destination itself.

Historical Website on New Jersey and its Turnpike: http://www.jerseyhistory.org/what_exit/index.html

Sources:

Wood, Andrew. “Two Roads Diverge: “Route 66″ and the Mediation of American Ruin.” Critical Studies in Media Communication 27:1. (2010). 67-83.

River Roads: “Proud Mary” by Kelsey Miranda

Creedence Clearwater Revival-

https://youtu.be/5hid10EgMXE

Tina Turner-

https://youtu.be/EmH4YlNdWAg

In our readings for this week the road symbolized many ideas, primarily the freedom to go anywhere if you have a car and some gas money. It also could symbolize an idea of escapism from responsibility, which can be found in movies that revolve around roads trips and driving across the country.  But before there were roads, there were riverboats and railroads that were used for transportation.  The song “Proud Mary” has a nostalgic awareness within the song that brings the idea of the riverboat as the way to find happiness and freedom. The beginning of the song starts “Left a good job in the city, working for the Man every night and day, But I never lost a minute of sleeping, Worrying about the way things might have been.” This part of the song describes the desire of the rider of the Proud Mary to escape their life from the city.  Despite losing money from leaving their job, the song explains that the rider does not regret their decision. The chorus of the song “Big wheel keep on turning, Proud Mary keep on burning” emphasizes the choice the rider made to go on the riverboat.

The next verse of the song “Proud Mary” discusses the poverty that comes along escapism of responsibility. The verse starts “Cleaned a lot of plates in Memphis, Pumped a lot of tane down in New Orleans.” This part of the song suggests the work the rider did to feed him or herself and make some money. Despite not having a lot of money, the rider in this story experiences freedom.

In the last verse of the song,  “If you come down to the River, Bet you’re gonna find some people who live, You don’t have to worry ‘cause you have no money, People on the river are happy to give.” This part of the song the rider describes the people who live around the river. The rider recognizes that the people around the river do not have a lot of money but they are happy. The song ends with the chorus solidifying the decision of riding the Proud Mary riverboat.  The song is about experiencing freedom by following your dream and living life to the fullest.

The writer of the song, John Fogerty, wrote the song after he received a honorable discharge from the Army Reserve during the Vietnam War.  Although Fogerty never took the river journey on the riverboat queen, he ideas of freedom were inspired about his newfound freedom and the riverboat served as symbol of that.  In an interview with the Wall Street Journal Fogerty admits that always loved Mark Twain’s writing, which inspired him to write the lyrics of the song about a riverboat.[1]

 

 

[1] http://www.wsj.com/articles/SB10001424127887323648304578494993596953764

“Another Travelin’ Song” – a perfect narrative of The Road’s duality by Jenelle M Janci

https://youtu.be/fvj2OzKnpVM

While it may be painfully obvious, a song that has always captured the spirit of The Road for me is “Another Travelin’ Song” by Bright Eyes. The song’s bumping country bassline propels you through the song, and I can’t help but to see tires spinning while I listen to it. Bright Eyes’ frontman (and my lifelong obsession) Conor Oberst makes his intention clear from the song’s first stanza.

“Well I’m changing all my strings/

I’m gonna write another traveling song/

About all the billion highways and the cities at the break of dawn/

Well I guess the best that I can do now is pretend that I’ve done nothing wrong/

And to dream about a train that’s gonna take me back where I belong”

In this, Oberst sees the road as both a way to a destination and a destination itself, a duality J.B. Jackson notes in “Roads Belong in the Landscape.” Andrew F. Wood speaks to this too, but specifically in relation to Route 66. In that particular case, The Road itself has become a tourist attraction.

Oberst alludes to some mistakes he’s made, and hints that perhaps The Road could be an escape from them. However, there’s still a purpose of returning home.

 The next two lines echo the problems Oberst just introduced us to.

 “Well now the ocean speaks and spits and I can hear it from the interstate/

And I’m screaming at my brother on a cell phone he’s far away”

Oberst sets the scene here – we can clearly see the type of road he is traveling on. I always loved the image of him yelling at his brother, perhaps because I can relate, having three older ones myself. However, after reading Jackson’s piece and seeing the road as a destination itself, this line has new meaning for me. Oberst was trying to use the road to get away from his problems, but modern technology makes it impossible for him to fully escape them. Even on the road, he’s not away from his issues.

 Fast forward to the end of the song, and Oberst realizes this.

 “So I will find my fears and face them/

Or I will cower like a dog/

I will kick and scream or kneel and plead/

I’ll fight like hell to hide that I’ve given up”

Just like how the road offers two options – taking you to a destination or being the destination itself – Oberst sees that he too has “two paths diverged in the yellow wood”: to face his problems, or to run away from them.

 While our in-class discussions have given new depth to this song, my history with it goes way back. I’ve put this on nearly every traveling playlist I can remember. Most memorably, I remember driving home from Ohio on I-80 during Spring Break 2014. My boyfriend and I went to visit my brother, and as with any road trip, it’s a big step to see if you can handle being in each other’s vicinity for that long of a time.

On our way there, my boyfriend got a speeding ticket – our first ever – and he was pretty sour about it for a bit. However, like Oberst had to in the song, he made the choice to let it not ruin our trip and to deal with it when we got home.

I-80 is a straight shot through Pennsylvania, and is pretty monotonous. However, on our way back, we drove through a mountainous area with a beautiful view. I remember putting on this song as we entered that stretch. While we were definitely headed home, in that moment, The Road was its own destination.