that three American and three British officers are buried in the crypt beneath the white and black marble floor of the rotunda.
American
Marine Lieutenant John Brooks
Midshipman Henry Laub
Midshipman John Clark
British
Captain Robert Finnis
Lieutenant John Garland
Lieutenant James Garland
The quiet penetrates. I stare at the names. The letters form other words, names from my old life that I want to forget. Breaking my trance, two children rush in and trample the inscription. They don’t care about what the silence might teach them. I follow them up the stairs, dragging my hand along the cool tile.
The elevator returns and drops off fifteen people. A park ranger at the controls greets us from behind his handlebar mustache. “Good afternoon. Welcome to Perry’s Victory and International Peace Memorial. You are about to travel 340 feet above lake level. The observatory is the highest open-air platform in the country. The total distance to the pinnacle of the 11-ton brass urn on the top of the monument is 352 feet. The urn was designed by Joseph Freedlander, one of the monument’s architects, and built by the Gorham Company of Rhode Island. It was dismantled and sent to the island in sections. Upon arrival, it was taken to the top of the memorial penthouse and reassembled. If you were to start at the upper plaza and take the steps all the way to the top, you would climb a total of 467 steps. The monument was equipped with an elevator from the beginning. The present elevator went into service in 1939 and ascends at a rate of 256 feet per minute, or 2.9 miles per hour. On the return trip, you will be moving slightly faster at 325 feet per minute, or 3.7 miles per hour. I look forward to seeing you on the way down to answer any questionsyou may have. Please refrain from throwing objects from the gallery. It is slightly windy today, so hold onto any loose articles. Enjoy the view.”
At the edge of the observation deck, only a four-foot concrete wall separates me from an attempt at flight. In just one motion I could be over the side. It would be so easy—too easy. I have to step back.
In each corner of the gallery, a map and recording describe the naval battle that took place in the waters below: “Put-in-Bay was Perry’s base of naval operation in western Lake Erie. During the decisive battle, Perry’s ship was badly damaged. Fleeing an ailing vessel, Perry moved to
The Niagara
, where he formulated a counterattack. Knowing the lake well, he baited the British into a shallow section, rendering them defenseless, as they could not turn around to position themselves for the fight. Perry then levied extensive damage on the British fleet, leaving them minimal opportunity but to surrender and thus leading to Perry’s elevation to hero status.”
Was he a hero, though, or just lucky? Did he win the battle, or did the British just fuck up? What a bunch of crap—just another tale passed down generation after generation to justify bloodshed. Who was Oliver Hazzard Perry really? Does anyone know? Does anyone care? Yet here in his honor is a 36-million-pound column.
My discontent has accumulated over the past months, searching for a leak in the dam I’ve constructed to separate my true feelings from the situation closing in around me. I just want it all to fucking stop. I’m tired of blaming society, my job, and my family for making me into the person I’ve become.
The tape I was listening to has stopped, but I continue to stare at the water below, still picturing the battle and thinking of Perry. I guess it’s better to be lucky than good any day. Regardless of how it happened, though, the battle was won, leading Perry to send the famous correspondence to William Henry Harrison thatRobin mentioned on the trip to the island, reproduced on the plaque in front of me:
US. Brig
Niagara
, Off Western Sister Island head of Lake Erie, Sept. 10, 1813, 4 p.m.
Dear General—
We have met the enemy and they are ours, two
American
Marine Lieutenant John Brooks
Midshipman Henry Laub
Midshipman John Clark
British
Captain Robert Finnis
Lieutenant John Garland
Lieutenant James Garland
The quiet penetrates. I stare at the names. The letters form other words, names from my old life that I want to forget. Breaking my trance, two children rush in and trample the inscription. They don’t care about what the silence might teach them. I follow them up the stairs, dragging my hand along the cool tile.
The elevator returns and drops off fifteen people. A park ranger at the controls greets us from behind his handlebar mustache. “Good afternoon. Welcome to Perry’s Victory and International Peace Memorial. You are about to travel 340 feet above lake level. The observatory is the highest open-air platform in the country. The total distance to the pinnacle of the 11-ton brass urn on the top of the monument is 352 feet. The urn was designed by Joseph Freedlander, one of the monument’s architects, and built by the Gorham Company of Rhode Island. It was dismantled and sent to the island in sections. Upon arrival, it was taken to the top of the memorial penthouse and reassembled. If you were to start at the upper plaza and take the steps all the way to the top, you would climb a total of 467 steps. The monument was equipped with an elevator from the beginning. The present elevator went into service in 1939 and ascends at a rate of 256 feet per minute, or 2.9 miles per hour. On the return trip, you will be moving slightly faster at 325 feet per minute, or 3.7 miles per hour. I look forward to seeing you on the way down to answer any questionsyou may have. Please refrain from throwing objects from the gallery. It is slightly windy today, so hold onto any loose articles. Enjoy the view.”
At the edge of the observation deck, only a four-foot concrete wall separates me from an attempt at flight. In just one motion I could be over the side. It would be so easy—too easy. I have to step back.
In each corner of the gallery, a map and recording describe the naval battle that took place in the waters below: “Put-in-Bay was Perry’s base of naval operation in western Lake Erie. During the decisive battle, Perry’s ship was badly damaged. Fleeing an ailing vessel, Perry moved to
The Niagara
, where he formulated a counterattack. Knowing the lake well, he baited the British into a shallow section, rendering them defenseless, as they could not turn around to position themselves for the fight. Perry then levied extensive damage on the British fleet, leaving them minimal opportunity but to surrender and thus leading to Perry’s elevation to hero status.”
Was he a hero, though, or just lucky? Did he win the battle, or did the British just fuck up? What a bunch of crap—just another tale passed down generation after generation to justify bloodshed. Who was Oliver Hazzard Perry really? Does anyone know? Does anyone care? Yet here in his honor is a 36-million-pound column.
My discontent has accumulated over the past months, searching for a leak in the dam I’ve constructed to separate my true feelings from the situation closing in around me. I just want it all to fucking stop. I’m tired of blaming society, my job, and my family for making me into the person I’ve become.
The tape I was listening to has stopped, but I continue to stare at the water below, still picturing the battle and thinking of Perry. I guess it’s better to be lucky than good any day. Regardless of how it happened, though, the battle was won, leading Perry to send the famous correspondence to William Henry Harrison thatRobin mentioned on the trip to the island, reproduced on the plaque in front of me:
US. Brig
Niagara
, Off Western Sister Island head of Lake Erie, Sept. 10, 1813, 4 p.m.
Dear General—
We have met the enemy and they are ours, two
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