Feeding an Obsession With All Things Colonial

Colonial Williamsburg is the amateur history buff's paradise.

Williamsburg--the Virginia colony's capital between 1699 and the Revolutionary War--was restored and reconstructed in the 1930s as a living museum of the 18th century--complete with actors in colonial garb, horse-drawn carriages and taverns serving such early American delicacies as rabbit stew.

When my sister and I were younger, Virginia's colonial capital was always the family's default spring break destination of choice.

My parents despised travel, especially long car rides. But they considered the trip to Williamsburg--only two-and-a-half hours south of our home in Alexandria--a tolerable one. That and Williamsburg's potential educational value always made it the proposed vacation destination.

When my sister and I finally realized that no amount of begging, pleading or emotional blackmail would win a trip to Disney World or Paris, we would grudgingly accept our parents' Oh-so-generous offer.

Eventually, visiting Williamsburg became an annual pilgrimage, a springtime ritual that created and then fed an obsession with all things colonial and Virginian.

I had to tackle the holly maze behind the Governor's Palace, buy new quill pens and replenish my supplies of ink and sealing wax at least once a year or else suffer from withdrawal.

The trips always began with a stop at the Visitor's Center. There, we parked the car and bought a Patriot's Pass that allowed unlimited access to all the houses and shops in the historic district. After a quick 70s movie about Virginian patriots, we boarded a bus to the main attraction.

The bus dropped us off on the outskirts of the town and we'd make our way to the mile-long Duke of Gloucester Street, Williamsburg's main thoroughfare. It's closed to all but pedestrian and equestrian traffic. (We were always on foot because my parents never humored us with carriage rides.)

We would stop in at the various houses along the street to watch a music teacher give harpsichord lessons to a docile student, a wigmaker weave hairpieces out of the finest horsehair in the colony or a founder cast pewter spoons.

Then there were the requisite tours of the big salmon-colored brick buildings; the Governor's Palace, the State Capitol and the Wren Building of the College of William and Mary.

The coolest building was the State Capitol. Guides herded tourists into the chambers of the House of Burgesses and asked them to imagine hearing the echoes of the fiery speeches delivered by great Virginians such as Patrick Henry and Richard Henry Lee.

The stops at this or That great Virginian's house were peripheral. More essential to my visit were the stops at the gift shops and restaurants where I could restock and expand my collection of colonial paraphernalia.

I still have the black tricornered hat, the white mobcap, the dustcap and the straw hat to show for my many trips to that colonial capital.

"To be a Virginian, whether by birth, marriage or even on one's mother's side is...a benediction from Almighty God."

I first discovered the quote, and confirmation of its absolute verity, at Colonial Williamsburg.