credits: nycoffeeny

Where you can make history your own

Over thinly sliced venison.

Last night I had dinner at Tasting Room on Elizabeth Street. During dessert a table of four middle-aged adults sat down next to us–three men and a woman. Two of the guys–Roger and Ken–were a couple; the other man, Tony, was married to the woman, Grace. They weren’t toursits; they were having dinner and talking about 9/11.

“It must have been 2003,” said Ken.

“No,” said Tony. “That’s too recent.”

“That’s already almost 5 years ago,” said Ken. “There was just that anniversary.”

“When did we get married?” said Grace.

“2005,” said Tony.

“Well it was before that.”

“2003 doesn’t sound right,” said Roger. “Maybe 2002.”

“2004?” said Tony.

“Could have been,” said Ken. “But I feel like it was earlier.”

In the early days of the Civil War parents made picnics and took their children to watch the cannonballs fly.

If anyone tries to tell you that history is anything but an entertainment spectacle, do not listen.