Humming with the excited spark of a not completely retired teacher, a volunteer at Kansas City's National World War I Museum and Memorial (1-816-888-8100, theworldwar.org) gets our daughter's attention with two simple questions:
"How old are you?" asks Dave Damico. "Do you know what you would have been doing during the war?"
Pause. Twelve-year-old Katie and her twin, Kylie, have worn prairie dresses to a Laura Ingalls Wilder pageant, helped with gardening at a fur-trading post, slept in a tepee and read through "American Girl" books. But their World War I knowledge doesn't extend much beyond soldiers crammed into miserable, muddy trenches.
"You'd probably be living in England," Damico says. "And you would have worked in the factories, maybe making munitions. That would have made you a canary girl. The chemicals would make you turn yellow. Some had yellowish kids. Like Lisa Simpson."
His stories, as well as the museum's multimedia exhibits, broaden the World War I era beyond soldiers, showing how industrialization, the fall of monarchies and shifting world powers exploded into battles that rippled across continents and generations.
The entrance to the museum crosses a glass bridge spanning 9,000 poppies dotting a scarred battlefield. Each flower represents 1,000 soldiers who died in service. Inside, exhibits span weapons and uniforms, propaganda posters and the use of Harley-Davidson motorcycles on the war front.
This D.C.-caliber museum and others drew us on a six-hour family road trip to Kansas City. But the promise of K.C. barbecue — smoky, saucy tender rewards in between history lessons — tied it all together.
Doughboys and dollars
The World War I museum is tucked underground beneath Liberty Memorial, a 217-foot hilltop monument and one of the world's biggest war memorials. Citizens raised $2.5 million in 1918 — a modern equivalent of $35 million — to build the tower with a sweeping view across the city and the zigzagging Missouri River.