Grand Old Flag

I have just had a most remarkable evening and profound honor.

My father worked for the State Department of Agriculture. In the earlier years of his career, and the earlier years of my life, he spent much of his time at our State Office Building, and frequented our State Capitol (which are adjacent). Being the overly responsible appearing child that I was, I often frequented these buildings with him on the weekends I was with him, and some summer days.

These buildings being what they are, they were early touchstones to history for me, which had a lasting impact on my own sense of history, as well as my sense of architecture, of business, and an insiders feel of “big government” in the seventies (picture Oscar Goldman from the Six Million Dollar Man.)

I have no real memory of my age I assume my earliest practical memories were around 5 through 7 years (before that, I was generally held, or just sat in one place). At that age, and in those times, a boy my age could do anything.

I remember “playing” in the Capitol while my father visited some legislator’s office, or whatever business called him to this amazing building. I remember on one summer day, being in the narrow hallway outside our Senate observation balcony. Senate was in session, and being a warm day, the window at the end of the hall – a small hexagonal oriele – was open. It was very near the floor of the hallway, thus of particular interest to a young person.

I examined the window, saw that it swung on a stiff hinge, and opened onto a cornice which ran around that level of the building. For a long time, I just stood or knelt and stared out into the surrounding park. Then, when everyone trusted me and stopped watching, I stepped out onto the limestone, and took a short stroll.

On other times, I stood on the roof over a small office which was adjacent to an open elevator, and to the stairs winding around the elevator tower. There was no rail on the stair where it touched the office, and it was no effort to step out there, and watch people walk by on the main floor.

Our Capitol is a beautiful building, full of imported marble from around the state and around the world. The building itself is made of local limestone. It is several feet taller than the nation’s capitol, though not as fat a rotunda. The walls of the main floors are embellished with murals – one of which is rather famous, especially to classic rock fans.

The rotunda dome is copper clad, and the Capitol features a “false” interior dome which is some 60 feet below the true cupola and dome of the exterior. When I was a wee child, probably kindergarten, I actually stood outside the cupola with our teacher and several students from my class. We took turns going up and out in small groups. In the 4th or 5th grade, my school class visited the upper landing in the dome – above the false rotunda – but were not allowed to go higher. That year was the last year students were allowed to go even that high.

The capitol was a focal point for my childhood. When driving home after picking up my cousins 200 miles away, it was the rage to be the first to spy the capitol dome peek over the horizon. Whenever company with children would come visit, we would go tour the capitol.

Later, I have taken dates there, if only to walk around the grounds and marvel at the building. And sometimes, at night, when I am riding around town on my bike, I will just stop and stare at the limestone and platina dome stark against the black sky.

Tonight, as the evening activity of a conference my company helped sponsor, I spent the evening in the Capitol.

Slated as “dinner and a starlight tour”, I was treated to a fine meal of German themed food while seated in the spacious second floor lobby under the rotunda. Then, during dessert, I listened as a recreationist-historian told a story from the first-person of a woman in our State’s civil war period.

Then, the 4th graders from a local grade school sang a host of patriotic songs, and we sang with them.

This was the honor.

To sing America, the Beautiful under the dome of my state capitol. To sing without shame, with children who were waving flags.

I couldn’t find the voice several times, but for the children’s sake, I only let slip a few tears. It took all my effort sometimes to just smile. I so wanted to weep, and I was nearly swept away several times later in the evening with the memory of the moment.

The last activity then was the tour itself. A guide took us from wing to wing, floor to floor, explaining the murals, and describing the histories of our House and Senate chambers. She concluded the tour on a fourth floor balcony, explaining about upcoming renovations to restore the building to its original status. I asked if this would include repair and reopening access to the upper rotunda. She explained that it might, and that she could take us up part way now – except she was afraid we might trip.

As the group made their way back down, I asked her if she would hazard just taking one of us. I offered that I accept liability, and would sign a release if neccessary. She conceeded.

So a small group of us went up to the fifth floor, and then into a narrow, bent stairwell, up to the inner rotunda balcony. From there, we could look down the 130-odd feet to the ground floor, and speak like the voice of God to the other attendees *smile*.

We could not ascend further, as there was no lighting above the false rotunda, and we wouldn’t be able to see even if we stayed safe. Even so, I was moved with visiting a privledged space I hadn’t seen for almost 30 years.

…and touching again a certain stone that lies close to my father in my heart.