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Authors: Anita Heiss

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BOOK: Manhattan Dreaming
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‘You should check out the exhibitions in our public area,' Kirsten said, as we ate dinner in our apartment, the first meal we'd had together for weeks. ‘Joyce Dallal's work “Descent” is there. There's like a thousand paper airplanes with the text of the third and forth Geneva Conventions about the victims of war written on each one. It's very powerful and clever.'

‘Sounds awesome,' I said, and then realised, ‘God, I've gone all American, haven't I?'

‘Yes, you have, but with an Australian accent, so that's all right.'

I went to the exhibit a couple of days later at the UN, and Kirsten was right. It was innovative, but my attention was stolen by an exhibit called ‘Deadly Medicine', examining the Holocaust. I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to come to grips with some of the harsh realities of the racial purity policies of Germany's past.

The ‘Ten Commandments for Choosing a Mate, Created by the Reich Committee for Public Health' made me want to weep. I gasped out loud as I read commandment number five, ordering Germans to choose only a spouse of the same or Aryan blood, because they believed the mixing of races frequently led to degeneration and downfall in the life of people and nations. ‘Keep away from those of foreign races of non-European origin.' I felt sick and sad for Jewish people and what they had endured. I felt sorry for the stain that Nazi Germany had left on its own nation and the world. I wanted to learn more, and with such a large Jewish community in New York, I had to, so the following weekend I went to the Jewish Museum near Central Park.

As I walked the building I was surprised how few people were there. I wondered if it was because of what was happening in Gaza at the time, and what kind of references to Palestine I might find.

I learned about the seven-branched candelabrum, and the four fundamental themes of Jewish history and identity – Covenant, Exodus, Law, Land. I discovered that Israelites became Jews in 586 BC with the Babylonian conquest of Judah. I saw a whole range of Hanukkah lamps – one even had a kangaroo and emus – and I tried to remember if there was a visible Jewish community in Canberra. There surely wasn't one in Goulburn.

A talk, dark and very handsome guy walked past me wearing a black roll neck sweater. I wondered if he was Jewish. Did he have any comments on Gaza? Would he marry out? I had a lot of questions, but no-one to ask. I always hated being expected to be the walking talking Aboriginal encyclopedia back home.

I wept as I looked at the ‘Art of Holocaust' exhibit. An installation of dead bodies made out of plaster lay on the ground.

‘Don't worry, miss, a lot of people cry when they look at this space,' a security guard said, holding out a box of tissues.

I felt for the Jewish people, but wondered why the warfare and genocide in Australia related to Aboriginal people had never been termed a holocaust.

With holocaust sadness still in my heart I was glad to be going to Washington at the end of the week with Maria and Wyatt to see the advanced screening of
Trail of Tears,
which was part of the ‘We Shall Remain' TV series.

We flew to DC on Thursday for the showing that night. Wyatt explained on the way that the DC museum was seen by many as the flagship because it was considered the
first
National Museum for American Indians, even though the New York venue had opened first.

‘See, the DC site is on the National Mall with all the major cultural venues – the Washington Monument, the National Museum of Natural History, the United States Capitol – so it means it has a higher profile through association. But of course we believe our site is better,' he joked.

‘Of course, we do,' I agreed.

It was just falling dusk when we arrived at the National Mall near the NMAI. I had to stop and imagine what it must have been like to be there for the inauguration. I closed my eyes and I could feel the vibrations of millions of people all cheering. It would've been mind blowing.

‘Are you okay?' Wyatt asked, looking concerned.

‘I'm good, just thinking. This place is amazing. I'm sorry, but I now understand why everyone thinks the DC site is the flagship, there's so much wonderful energy here.'

‘We can argue about this later – we've got twenty minutes to get in there and be seen and then seated.'

We headed towards the building and I admired it immediately, with its curvilinear design evoking natural rock formations shaped by wind and water over thousands of years. I was excited as we headed in, trying to read the flyer about the series and remember who all the key players were. I stood outside the Rasmuson Theater on the first floor and was energised by the size of the crowd. Wyatt and Maria introduced me to everyone: Sharon Grimberg the executive producer, Chris Eyre the director, and Wes Studi, an actor. I knew Vikki would be jealous when I got home. But there were also other actors, curators and artists from around DC, and they all asked me, ‘Do you know so and so?' It was great to make the connections in relation to Aboriginal actors back home and celebrate being part of the international Indigenous community.

We watched the screening of a film about an event in 1838 that the Cherokees called Nu-No-Du-Na-Tlo-Hi-Lu, ‘The Trail Where They Cried'.
Trail of Tears
the series looked at the United States government's forced removal of thousands of Cherokees from their homes in the south-eastern United States, driving them toward Indian Territory in Eastern Oklahoma. Dispossession, relocation and dislocation were very similar themes to our mobs back home, and I knew it was a series that we needed to get on our screens as well.

The next morning we had meetings with the team in Washington, and then Maria flew back to New York. Wyatt and I had organised to do some sightseeing and head back late Saturday afternoon, the day of my birthday.

‘What do you want to do first?' Wyatt asked.

‘I'm easy, what about you?'

‘I'm easy too.' There was a stark difference between the chilled Wyatt and the scheduled Libby. It was so simple to hang out with my NYC mate.

‘Don't laugh,' Wyatt said, ‘but I wouldn't mind checking out the Cherry Blossom Festival in the National Building Museum.'

‘The what festival?'

‘I read about it on the plane. It's an annual event that features three thousand cherry blossom trees that the city of Tokyo gave to DC. I thought it might be fun. There's events all across town, and at the National Building Museum there's music, ballet, cherry blossoms, a floating Japanese tea room, and we can even plant some seedlings.'

‘Sounds all right, I guess.'

‘
And
there's a gift store!' Wyatt said, grabbing both my arms and trying to shake some excitement into me, but he didn't need to.

‘Sold, lead the way.'

We spent the afternoon just strolling around the festival, had a green tea and some sushi. In the gift store I pained over two different prints. One had a black background with red cherry blossoms and one had a gold background. I couldn't decide which one I liked best.

‘Which one do you like?' I held the prints up to Wyatt.

‘The one with the black background would look best in your apartment, I think.' Wyatt's curatorial eye was always working.

‘You're right, and it'd look great back at my place back in Manuka, too.' And so I bought it, looking forward to showing the girls when I got back.

That night Wyatt had booked us a table at the Lafayette, which overlooked Lafayette Square and the White House. I'm sure it was one of the fanciest restaurants in the city, with Tom Vogt playing the piano to entertain us.

‘Do you know that Lena Horne called this guy her “favourite pianist in Washington”?' Wyatt said.

‘I can see why, I love all the jazz and show tunes he's been playing. This is so much fun, really. Thanks so much for hanging out with me.'

‘What? I should be thanking you. I've been to DC before but it's never been this awesome. And none of my friends would come to this restaurant, so thank
you.
I'm told they do sensational desserts here.' Wyatt winked and smiled.

‘You certainly know the way to a woman's heart is through her sweet tooth.'

‘So I've heard.'

I ordered the ‘decadent chocolate truffle cake' and Wyatt ordered the Grand Marnier soufflé and we shared.

‘You like sweets too then.'

‘My one and only vice.'

‘Really?'

‘Well, the only one I'll admit to.'

After we'd finished our desserts and tea Wyatt put a tiny box on the table.

‘What is it?'

‘It's for you.'

‘Why?'

‘I heard it's your birthday tomorrow, so I thought we could start celebrating early. Anyway, I couldn't wait to give it to you.'

‘Wow, an early birthday present. I love birthdays.'

‘So do I. Open it.'

I opened it to find tiny cherry blossom earrings.

‘They're gorgeous, I love them.' I took out my silver hoops and put the blossoms on straight away.

‘I saw them in the store today, and met the artist. She's from Virginia, and she was really nice, so I thought I could make you both happy by buying them. I aim to please.'

‘They're the perfect memento from DC and will go with my print. I can stand next to it at home and be a piece of installation art as well.'

‘They look beautiful on, Lauren.'

‘Thank you.' I leaned across the table and kissed Wyatt on the cheek.

I felt like I was finally having that elusive obligation-free date I'd been waiting for. If only he wasn't gay!

Wyatt insisted on sharing a cab from the airport and then carrying my bag upstairs. Only when I opened the door did I realise why.

‘Surprise!' the mob sung out as I walked in and turned the lights on.

‘What the …?'

‘We thought we should have a little soiree in honour of your birthday, sis, so happy birthday,' Kirsten said, wearing a party hat and lei and handing me a present.

‘Hey,' I squealed when I saw Matt. ‘And you fibber, you said you had to get back to your kids,' I accused Maria.

Maria shrugged her shoulders, looking for forgiveness. ‘It's not a complete lie – I feel a bit like you're one of my kids.'

Vikki pulled out a chair and motioned me towards it. ‘Sit, we have a feast prepared – Kirsten and I were at the markets super early today, and we got the best of everything.' She poured me some wine as cooking smells wafted through the flat.

They were all in foil hats and leis and I couldn't help laughing.

‘I need a photo of this, really, no-one back home will believe this mad hatter's birthday party. I can't believe it.' I set my camera up on the bookcase, pressed the automatic timer, and ran around next to Wyatt.

‘Everyone say … New York cheesecake …'

‘New York cheesecake!' we all squealed and laughed.

‘This is so awesome,' I said.

‘So awesome you're talking like us now,' Maria said.

‘I'm cool with that,' I replied, holding my glass up. ‘Here's to awesomeness.'

Vikki and Kirsten brought out two massive bowls of pasta, one seafood and one chicken pesto, homemade garlic bread, a huge green salad and more wine. There was no room on the table at all, as we all squashed round sitting on odd chairs, including an office chair that had come from the NMAI especially for the night. I laughed when I saw it.

Maria grabbed the sides of her seat. ‘Well, Kirsten said if I wanted to sit, I'd have to bring my own chair. I like sitting, so I did.'

‘I think I will be the first human being to have a carb explosion but this is the best seafood pasta I have
ever
had,' I said, my stomach swelling with each mouthful. ‘I can't eat another thing.'

‘Nothing?' Kirsten asked with a sly smile.

‘Absolutely nothing.'

‘Not even a piece of key lime pie? Not even a sliver of New York cheesecake? Not even a crumb of chocolate mud cake with raspberry coulis?'

BOOK: Manhattan Dreaming
8.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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