Vitamins

Sooo, the creator of the first blog that I ever read, Meg Duerksen, is asking for some help.

Her and a group of women in the blog world took a trip to Africa a few months ago to help the children there. Each woman brought a suitcase full of one item that would benefit the children. Meg sent a suitcase full of birthday cake mixes and dresses. Another suitcase was full of vitamins. The women were told that each child would receive one hard boiled egg each Saturday, and that egg would most likely be their protein for the week. Obviously, the vitamins helped out a lot, but it's been months since Meg and the ladies were there, and the children's club has run out of them.

The women are asking for donations of children's vitamins to send in one giant box to the children's club. I've bought some bottles already and wanted to see if any of you would like to help. Please comment and let me know if you would be interested! Thank you!

A Visit to Walt Whitman's Birthplace

As an English education major, I naturally love all things English, and those who know me best know how much I love Walt Whitman. (I like to call him "Uncle Walt", by the way).

William decided that it'd be nice if we went on one last date together before school started, and a visit to Walt Whitman's birthplace was still never crossed off on our "2010 To Do List." So a few days before school started, I finally visited the Huntington home that I have been longing to visit for years. Isn't it funny how we tend to take advantage of the historical/tourist spots that are right in our backyard? As a New Yorker, I know tons of people who have never been to the Empire State Building, Statue of Liberty, Wall Street, etc. I can oftentimes be guilty of this as a Long Islander!


The house is an absolutely beautiful home, built around 1810. It was a farmhouse, built by his father, who built homes for a living. Walt Whitman was born in the house in 1819. This is the original house, but the home was restored in 2001. The property has shrunk over the years, but this land was preserved in 1949. In 1985, New York State declared the land a historic preservation.

 The house in which Uncle Walt was born.

 The original well, used by the Whitman's.

 This fireplace was restored and painted the original color from the time when the Whitman's lived there. This blue is so beautiful in person, and unfortunately this photo doesn't do it justice!

Our tour guide explained to use that a house built during this era normally did not contain as many closets as those featured in the Whitman home. It was such a culture-shock to see how a family could own very few belongings, that they didn't need closets!

 These utensils are believed to be Walt's. During his lifetime, men would carry utensils on them when eating in restaurants. This was to prevent the spread of disease, but also because restaurants had a tendency of running out of utensils when serving patrons.

 Unfortunately, none of the furniture or items actual belonged to the Whitman family. They moved out of the home when Walt was older, and the house was privately sold to a wealthy family from New York City, who decided to preserve the house as best as they could. 

 Uncle Walt!

This is the desk that Walt used while he taught in a Long Island school. His book of poetry, Leaves of Grass, is displayed on top of it.

If you've never been to Walt Whitman's birthplace and live on Long Island, I strongly suggest you go! Students get in for $4 and there are always buy one get one free coupons floating around. The tour guides are very dedicated to their jobs and will provide you with very insightful knowledge on Walt and his family history. 

After visiting his birthplace, I now want to go to his home in Camden, New Jersey. This is the place where Walt died, and the home is set up exactly as he left it, with the original furniture and his belongings. 

And now I will leave you with my favorite Walt Whitman poem, and probably his most famous:

O Captain! My Captain! - Walt Whitman (1865)

O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done; The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won; The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:

But O heart! heart! heart!

O the bleeding drops of red,

Where on the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills; For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding; For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;

Here Captain! dear father!

This arm beneath your head;

It is some dream that on the deck,

You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still; My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will; The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done; From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;

Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!

But I, with mournful tread,

Walk the deck my Captain lies,

Fallen cold and dead.

I'll be back soon enough with more updates. School has started, which means I'm back to being a busy college student!