My wife and I were trying to decide what attractions in Northern Virginia we would like to visit.

ME: We could always go to Manassas. That’s not too far away.

WIFE: What’s that?

ME: It’s a battlefield. In fact there were two battles fought there, so it’s kind of a two-fer.

WIFE: Oh. Another battlefield. Great.

ME: What’s wrong with battlefields?

WIFE: I can never even tell which part of the countryside is the actual battlefield. You always want to drive a hundred miles to look at trees and grass.

Trees and grass . . . and rivers! The pleasant, wooden deck to the right is, no doubt, completely historically accurate. (This is Fort Donelson, TN.)

ME: I always explain what happened where.

WIFE: You always say, “The Indians came in from over here,” like you think it’s important to me to know what direction Indians are apt to come from.

ME: I’ve never taken you to a battlefield that involved Indians.

WIFE: Well somebody told me where the Indians came from. I didn’t just conjure that up on my own.

ME: Are you sure I said Indians?

WIFE: How do expect me to keep track? You’re always pointing at a berm and saying, “So-and-so did this-and-that over there.” What you don’t get is that, to us non-history-fanatics, it’s just a field.

ME: It’s part of your American Heritage. We should see some of these battlefields before they’re all built over with malls.

WIFE: There’s a mall?

A monument at Manassas National Battlefield. Apparently, the cows attacked from the left background. I can’t verify this, because I haven’t been there yet.