Armchair Travel
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Ministrations of Mercy
I've been reading Letters of a Civil War Nurse by Cornelia Hancock, and it's really absorbing to walk with her around the battlefield at Gettysburg after the Union Army had moved on, a scene of unimaginable carnage where 300 surgeons worked for five days performing amputations, filling wagon after wagon with severed limbs.
It was the kind of situation where people show what they are made of and Cornelia, a strong-willed Quaker lass from Pennsylvania, certainly does that.
In one letter she admits guiltily that the soldiers in her tent hospital chipped in and bought her a silver medal worth twenty dollars. These men had nothing; they hadn't been paid in months.
"Miss Cornelia Hancock," read the inscription, "presented by the wounded soldiers of the 3d Division, 2d Army Corps. Testimonial of regard for ministrations of mercy to the wounded soldiers at Gettysburg, Pa. -- July 1863."
To her mother she writes, "I know what thee will say, that the money could have better laid out. It was very complimentary, though." When you think about it, she couldn't possibly have refused it.
One of her patients later wrote to her at the tent hospital, "You will never be forgotten by us for we often think of your kind acts and remember them with pleasure. Please excuse a soldier for taking the liberty to write to you, for although we are Soldiers we know how to appreciate a kind act."
"It seems to me as if all my past life was a myth," she wrote to her mother, "and as if I had been away from home seventeen years."
But, she reports, "I am black as an Indian, dirty as a pig and as well as I've ever been in my life... There is all in getting to do what you want to do, and I am doing that."
This reminded me of a passage by Ernie Pyle, in his book This Is Your War, about a hospital from North Carolina that was transported lock stock and barrel to North Africa during the American invasion in WWII, where the doctors and nurses described the same kind of exhilaration at living in primitive conditions and giving help to those in dire need.
So I picked up that book again and got completely absorbed -- again. I'll post some excerpts in my next entry.
It was the kind of situation where people show what they are made of and Cornelia, a strong-willed Quaker lass from Pennsylvania, certainly does that.
In one letter she admits guiltily that the soldiers in her tent hospital chipped in and bought her a silver medal worth twenty dollars. These men had nothing; they hadn't been paid in months.
"Miss Cornelia Hancock," read the inscription, "presented by the wounded soldiers of the 3d Division, 2d Army Corps. Testimonial of regard for ministrations of mercy to the wounded soldiers at Gettysburg, Pa. -- July 1863."
To her mother she writes, "I know what thee will say, that the money could have better laid out. It was very complimentary, though." When you think about it, she couldn't possibly have refused it.
One of her patients later wrote to her at the tent hospital, "You will never be forgotten by us for we often think of your kind acts and remember them with pleasure. Please excuse a soldier for taking the liberty to write to you, for although we are Soldiers we know how to appreciate a kind act."
"It seems to me as if all my past life was a myth," she wrote to her mother, "and as if I had been away from home seventeen years."
But, she reports, "I am black as an Indian, dirty as a pig and as well as I've ever been in my life... There is all in getting to do what you want to do, and I am doing that."
This reminded me of a passage by Ernie Pyle, in his book This Is Your War, about a hospital from North Carolina that was transported lock stock and barrel to North Africa during the American invasion in WWII, where the doctors and nurses described the same kind of exhilaration at living in primitive conditions and giving help to those in dire need.
So I picked up that book again and got completely absorbed -- again. I'll post some excerpts in my next entry.
Labels: cornelia hancock
¶ 7:57 PM 0 comments
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Biting Your Nails in Aquitaine
Funny the stuff that sticks in your head. At Groton School I played the third priest in a production of T.S. Eliot's Murder in the Cathedral, directed by Carl Tucker, who also played the part of Thomas Becket.
Philip Kunhardt the third also turned in a stellar performance as the Inquisitor and Peter Williamson, ditto, as one of the killer knights -- the loquacious one.
The third priest has a heck of an invocation at the end, speaking of Becket's killers, including King Henry:
"Go, weak sad men, lost erring souls, homeless in earth or heaven.
Go where the sunset reddens the last grey rock
Of Brittany, or the Gates of Hercules.
Go venture shipwreck on the sullen coasts
Where blackamoors make captive Christian men;
Go to the northern seas confined with ice
Where the dead breath makes numb the hand, makes dull the brain;
Find an oasis in the desert sun,
Go seek alliance with the heathen Saracen,
To share his filthy rites, and try to snatch
Forgetfulness in his libidinous courts,
Oblivion in the fountain by the date tree;
Or sit and bite your nails in Aquitaine.
In the small circle of pain within the skill
You still shall tramp and tread one endless round
Of thought, to justify your actions to yourselves,
Weaving a fiction which unravels as you weave,
Pacing forever in the hell of make-believe
Which never is belief: this is your fate on earth
And we must think no further of you."
Looking back on it today, I guess I'd have to go with the part about snatching forgetfulness in the libinous courts of the heathen saracen. I'd like to take a shot at that one. ¶ 7:14 PM 0 comments
Philip Kunhardt the third also turned in a stellar performance as the Inquisitor and Peter Williamson, ditto, as one of the killer knights -- the loquacious one.
The third priest has a heck of an invocation at the end, speaking of Becket's killers, including King Henry:
"Go, weak sad men, lost erring souls, homeless in earth or heaven.
Go where the sunset reddens the last grey rock
Of Brittany, or the Gates of Hercules.
Go venture shipwreck on the sullen coasts
Where blackamoors make captive Christian men;
Go to the northern seas confined with ice
Where the dead breath makes numb the hand, makes dull the brain;
Find an oasis in the desert sun,
Go seek alliance with the heathen Saracen,
To share his filthy rites, and try to snatch
Forgetfulness in his libidinous courts,
Oblivion in the fountain by the date tree;
Or sit and bite your nails in Aquitaine.
In the small circle of pain within the skill
You still shall tramp and tread one endless round
Of thought, to justify your actions to yourselves,
Weaving a fiction which unravels as you weave,
Pacing forever in the hell of make-believe
Which never is belief: this is your fate on earth
And we must think no further of you."
Looking back on it today, I guess I'd have to go with the part about snatching forgetfulness in the libinous courts of the heathen saracen. I'd like to take a shot at that one. ¶ 7:14 PM 0 comments
Friday, October 16, 2009
A Paragraph by Barbara Tuchman
I bought a box of about forty volumes of American Heritage -- bone dry, no mold -- for eight dollars. So I've been reading about Commodore Vanderbuilt's two sons, and General Knox's estate in Thomaston, Maine, as well as an article by Barara Tuchman, written in 1970.
She was by that time established as a preminent historian after John F. Kennedy was seen with a copy of The Guns of August.
Anyway, here is one paragraph from her story about the Japanese invasion of China:
"Determined to make an example of the capital that would bring the war to an end, the Japanese achieved a climax to the carnage already wrought in in the delta below. Fifty thousand soldiers hacked, burned, raped, and murdered until they had killed, by hand and in person, according to the evidence witnesses and collected by missionaries and other foreigners of the International Relief Committee, a total of forty-two thousand civilians in Nanking. Groups of men and women were lined up and machinegunned or use alive for bayonet practice or tied up, doused with kerosene, and set afire while officers looked on. Reports by missionary doctors and others, dazed with horror and helplessness, filled church publications in America. Much of the photographic evidence that later reached newspapers abroad came from snapshots taken by the Japanese themselves which they gave for developing to ordinary camera shops in Shanghai, where copies made their way to the correspondents."
Not only is this paragraph an extraordinary example of the skill of my favorite historian, it is equaled by the brilliance of the paragraphs around it.
How did the USA react to this news? Were people outraged? Not exactly. Congress immediately took up the Ludlow Resolution, which would have reguired a national referendum before the country could declare war. Think about that. It almost passed.
FDR understood what was happening in China, and wanted to impose an embargo on the Japanese. Not a chance.
"It's a terrible thing," he told a friend, "to look over your shoulder when you are trying to lead and find no one there." ¶ 7:32 PM 1 comments
She was by that time established as a preminent historian after John F. Kennedy was seen with a copy of The Guns of August.
Anyway, here is one paragraph from her story about the Japanese invasion of China:
"Determined to make an example of the capital that would bring the war to an end, the Japanese achieved a climax to the carnage already wrought in in the delta below. Fifty thousand soldiers hacked, burned, raped, and murdered until they had killed, by hand and in person, according to the evidence witnesses and collected by missionaries and other foreigners of the International Relief Committee, a total of forty-two thousand civilians in Nanking. Groups of men and women were lined up and machinegunned or use alive for bayonet practice or tied up, doused with kerosene, and set afire while officers looked on. Reports by missionary doctors and others, dazed with horror and helplessness, filled church publications in America. Much of the photographic evidence that later reached newspapers abroad came from snapshots taken by the Japanese themselves which they gave for developing to ordinary camera shops in Shanghai, where copies made their way to the correspondents."
Not only is this paragraph an extraordinary example of the skill of my favorite historian, it is equaled by the brilliance of the paragraphs around it.
How did the USA react to this news? Were people outraged? Not exactly. Congress immediately took up the Ludlow Resolution, which would have reguired a national referendum before the country could declare war. Think about that. It almost passed.
FDR understood what was happening in China, and wanted to impose an embargo on the Japanese. Not a chance.
"It's a terrible thing," he told a friend, "to look over your shoulder when you are trying to lead and find no one there." ¶ 7:32 PM 1 comments
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
An Epic Sea Battle
The following is a story by Steve Hoyland, Sr. in Sea Breeze in Bayside, Texas, sent to me by my friend Sevie Ashley, editor of 008 Magazine in Lafayette, Louisiana:
Two weeks ago a group of four men, Steve Hoyland Jr. with friends Bruce, Ken and Erik, set off on an overnight offshore fishing trip. They left at noon on a Tuesday and went about 120 miles out into the Gulf (of Mexico).
They were having a great night of fishing, catching big snapper, grouper, ling and kings. About 3 am, two of them went down below to catch some sleep. The two remaining on deck were catching fish and drinking beer, enjoying the warm tropical night air.
All at once, Bruce got a big run on his line. This thing went all around the boat and took more than twenty minutes to bring up to the surface. When they got it up to the surface, they could not tell what it was. It looked prehistoric.
Steve Jr. put a gaff in it and the two men dragged it aboard the 33-foot boat. As soon as the creature hit the deck, it went crazy, attacking them. It was an eel over 6 feet long weighing close to 100 pounds. It had a mouth full of sharp teeth and was extremely pissed off.
The eel was later estimated to be sixty years old. Bruce said it came at him and Steve Jr. like an anaconda, rearing its head up and striking at them like a rattlesnake. It was highly agitated and quite energetic.
In the midst of thrashing around, the creature fell down below onto the floor between the two sleeping men, Erik and Ken. When they heard the thud and turned on the light, the eel raised its head right above Ken's face.
Erik rolled over and grabbed his 9 mm pistol. Steve Jr. started yelling, "Don't shoot the gun in the boat! We're 120 miles from land!" Next thing you know, all four fishermen were on the deck and the gigantic eel had sole possession of the bottom of the boat.
The four needed to work up a plan of action, so they drank beer while considering a strategy. It was determined that Steve Jr. would distract the eel because he had drank the most alcohol and believed he was bulletproof.
He opened up the sliding door down below to see what the "monster" was doing. As the door opened, the eel came up the two steps biting at anything along the way. The four brave men then ran to the wheelhouse like women and slammed the door shut. They never did identify which one of them scrreamed like a girl.
Inside the wheelhouse, they started calming down and decided they would drink a couple more beers. Then they hatched a new battle plan. Steve Jr. went out on the deck to get the beast's attention. The eel attacked and Steve Jr. climbed up on top of the captain's chair.
The following is a story by Steve Hoyland, Sr. in Sea Breeze in Bayside, Texas, sent to me by my friend Sevie Ashley, editor of 008 Magazine in Lafayette, Louisiana:
Two weeks ago a group of four men, Steve Hoyland Jr. with friends Bruce, Ken and Erik, set off on an overnight offshore fishing trip. They left at noon on a Tuesday and went about 120 miles out into the Gulf (of Mexico).
They were having a great night of fishing, catching big snapper, grouper, ling and kings. About 3 am, two of them went down below to catch some sleep. The two remaining on deck were catching fish and drinking beer, enjoying the warm tropical night air.
All at once, Bruce got a big run on his line. This thing went all around the boat and took more than twenty minutes to bring up to the surface. When they got it up to the surface, they could not tell what it was. It looked prehistoric.
Steve Jr. put a gaff in it and the two men dragged it aboard the 33-foot boat. As soon as the creature hit the deck, it went crazy, attacking them. It was an eel over 6 feet long weighing close to 100 pounds. It had a mouth full of sharp teeth and was extremely pissed off.
The eel was later estimated to be sixty years old. Bruce said it came at him and Steve Jr. like an anaconda, rearing its head up and striking at them like a rattlesnake. It was highly agitated and quite energetic.
In the midst of thrashing around, the creature fell down below onto the floor between the two sleeping men, Erik and Ken. When they heard the thud and turned on the light, the eel raised its head right above Ken's face.
Erik rolled over and grabbed his 9 mm pistol. Steve Jr. started yelling, "Don't shoot the gun in the boat! We're 120 miles from land!" Next thing you know, all four fishermen were on the deck and the gigantic eel had sole possession of the bottom of the boat.
The four needed to work up a plan of action, so they drank beer while considering a strategy. It was determined that Steve Jr. would distract the eel because he had drank the most alcohol and believed he was bulletproof.
He opened up the sliding door down below to see what the "monster" was doing. As the door opened, the eel came up the two steps biting at anything along the way. The four brave men then ran to the wheelhouse like women and slammed the door shut. They never did identify which one of them scrreamed like a girl.
Inside the wheelhouse, they started calming down and decided they would drink a couple more beers. Then they hatched a new battle plan. Steve Jr. went out on the deck to get the beast's attention. The eel attacked and Steve Jr. climbed up on top of the captain's chair.
Ken threw a blanket on top of the giant eel while Erik and Bruce beat the hell out of it with a steel gaff and a large ice chest lid. After the creature was finally subdued, they put it into a large ice chest and closed the lid on it.
The four brave sailors all got themselves a beer and were laughing at the situation when the lid of the ice chest was suddenly knocked off and the eel sprang out onto the deck and resumed his attack. Bruce stated that the eel was clearly out for vengeance. The four men each picked up something and the fight was on.
After beating the creature with gaffs, ice chest lids and fire extinguishers again, they once more subdued the massive carnivore and put it back into the ice chest. This time, they tied the lid down and put another ice chest on top of that one.
Eighteen hours later they returned to the dock and started unloading the boat. None of them was anxious to open the lid to the ice chest, in fact, they did "rock, paper, scissors" to determine who would pop the lid!
Above is a picture of Bruce Gordy with the eel that he caught and bravely fought in that epic and desperate battle for control of the high seas.
¶ 2:52 PM 2 comments
The four brave sailors all got themselves a beer and were laughing at the situation when the lid of the ice chest was suddenly knocked off and the eel sprang out onto the deck and resumed his attack. Bruce stated that the eel was clearly out for vengeance. The four men each picked up something and the fight was on.
After beating the creature with gaffs, ice chest lids and fire extinguishers again, they once more subdued the massive carnivore and put it back into the ice chest. This time, they tied the lid down and put another ice chest on top of that one.
Eighteen hours later they returned to the dock and started unloading the boat. None of them was anxious to open the lid to the ice chest, in fact, they did "rock, paper, scissors" to determine who would pop the lid!
Above is a picture of Bruce Gordy with the eel that he caught and bravely fought in that epic and desperate battle for control of the high seas.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Literary Comfort Food
I want to continue blogging about some books I've started: Letters of a Civil War Nurse by Cornelia Hancock, The Lobster Coast by Colin Woodard, Maine Memories by Elizabeth Coatsworth, and Arundel by Kenneth Roberts.
But after my trip to Chicago and my mom's memorial service, I've been working at getting back to boring old normal, so I've reverted to literary comfort food, and for me that means books I read before that I enjoyed.
Right now I'm rereading my Sue Grafton books, because Kinsey Milhonne and her "little kingdom" in Santa Theresa suit me right down to the ground.
We're kindred spirits, Kinsey and I. We both like peanut butter and pickle sandwiches. We both have elderly landllords that we're very close to. And we both treasure our solitude, Kinsey and I.
As I have said before, Sue Grafton, in the Kinsey Mihonne series, has provided a valuable counterpoint to the American deification of the family as the be-all and end-all of virtue, love, and happiness, a stereotype that is contrary to all the evidence we see before us every day.
If someone is murdered, it's better than even money the killer is someone they were married to or 'in a relationship with.'
Almost every book in the Kinsey Milhonne series revolves around destructive family dynamics that have led to murder and lifelong misery for most of the characters, all seen through the eyes of Kinsey Milhonne, a woman with no family to speak of, whose parents were killed in a car crash when she was five and who was raised by her Aunt Gin, who has passed away.
Kinsey has found a family in Santa Theresa: her landlord Henry, a retired baker, and Rosie, who runs the Hungarian restaurant, but like any family, they have... dynamics, and what keeps them together is love. And sometimes they hide it or withhold it; that happens in the best of families, but when push comes to shove they make each other's lives happier.
I think that's the true measure of a family. ¶ 8:42 PM 0 comments
But after my trip to Chicago and my mom's memorial service, I've been working at getting back to boring old normal, so I've reverted to literary comfort food, and for me that means books I read before that I enjoyed.
Right now I'm rereading my Sue Grafton books, because Kinsey Milhonne and her "little kingdom" in Santa Theresa suit me right down to the ground.
We're kindred spirits, Kinsey and I. We both like peanut butter and pickle sandwiches. We both have elderly landllords that we're very close to. And we both treasure our solitude, Kinsey and I.
As I have said before, Sue Grafton, in the Kinsey Mihonne series, has provided a valuable counterpoint to the American deification of the family as the be-all and end-all of virtue, love, and happiness, a stereotype that is contrary to all the evidence we see before us every day.
If someone is murdered, it's better than even money the killer is someone they were married to or 'in a relationship with.'
Almost every book in the Kinsey Milhonne series revolves around destructive family dynamics that have led to murder and lifelong misery for most of the characters, all seen through the eyes of Kinsey Milhonne, a woman with no family to speak of, whose parents were killed in a car crash when she was five and who was raised by her Aunt Gin, who has passed away.
Kinsey has found a family in Santa Theresa: her landlord Henry, a retired baker, and Rosie, who runs the Hungarian restaurant, but like any family, they have... dynamics, and what keeps them together is love. And sometimes they hide it or withhold it; that happens in the best of families, but when push comes to shove they make each other's lives happier.
I think that's the true measure of a family. ¶ 8:42 PM 0 comments
Monday, October 05, 2009
More Joy Than Sorrow
We held a wonderful memorial service for my mom this weekend where those who loved her shared their remembrances of a remarkable woman who spent her life making the world a nicer place.
I think everybody there, myself included, learned a lot that they didn't know about Sally Hartshorne, and every presentation helped round out the picture of the person we were celebrating.
We really lost Sally, the Sally all these people knew, two years ago, but for many of them the loss was more recent. We had a chance to share with them our experiences with the Child Sally we have known for the last year of her life.
We didn't really have time to mourn the loss of our mom because she was still with us and we could still make her happy and she was still a wonderful person who made us happy, too.
I remember her last days in the nursing home. Beside her bed were her glasses and her watch. And all of a sudden I realized that she wasn't going to need either of them ever again.
It dawned on me that my mom was dying, but what I felt was, 'My mom is dying bravely.' I was more proud and happy than sorrowful.
The memorial service gave us a chance to embrace so many people who loved Sally, too, and it brought us a feeling of finality.
Over the next few months, I guess it will sink in that she's really gone. But you know what? No one is really gone. ¶ 8:36 PM 3 comments
I think everybody there, myself included, learned a lot that they didn't know about Sally Hartshorne, and every presentation helped round out the picture of the person we were celebrating.
We really lost Sally, the Sally all these people knew, two years ago, but for many of them the loss was more recent. We had a chance to share with them our experiences with the Child Sally we have known for the last year of her life.
We didn't really have time to mourn the loss of our mom because she was still with us and we could still make her happy and she was still a wonderful person who made us happy, too.
I remember her last days in the nursing home. Beside her bed were her glasses and her watch. And all of a sudden I realized that she wasn't going to need either of them ever again.
It dawned on me that my mom was dying, but what I felt was, 'My mom is dying bravely.' I was more proud and happy than sorrowful.
The memorial service gave us a chance to embrace so many people who loved Sally, too, and it brought us a feeling of finality.
Over the next few months, I guess it will sink in that she's really gone. But you know what? No one is really gone. ¶ 8:36 PM 3 comments
Thursday, October 01, 2009
Bringing Bloggers Together
I just came back from a really fun and interesting trip to Chicago for the Orbitz First Annual Blogger Day -- I'm calling it that because I hope it becomes an annual event.
Bringing bloggers together for real-time conversations is a good cause, and one of the things we learned this week was that Orbitz likes to support good causes.
I was really glad that GoNOMAD was being honored in this way. Bloggers labor in obscurity, hoping somebody somewhere will grok what they are saying, and to be recognized by an internationally known company like Orbitz is a big deal for us.
I met a lot of incredibly knowledgeable writers from all over the blogosphere, and even though I couldn't understand half of what they were talking about, I expanded my little world in a big way.
I was surprised that I was invited, since this blog is primarily about used books, but I realized that Orbitz was really recognizing GoNOMAD.com, a website started in 2000 by Lauryn Axelrod that my cousin Max purchased in 2002 which he and I have been working on since 2005 with the invaluable assistance of our webmaster Joe Obeng.
Buoyed by the creativity of hundreds of writers all over the world, we have put together a site that will give you a bunch of different perspectives on any country in the world.
We have had the privilege of publishing lots of talented writers for the first time. And when they go on to write for the Atlantic Montly or the New York Times or Time Magazine, that's a great feeling that validates what we do.
Max and I both worked as writers for longer than we've been editors, so we know what it's like, and it gives us a real boost to help fellow writers on their way.
We also publish lots of great material by experienced travel writers. I'd give examples, but they're all great and I couldn't begin to mention them all in this space.
We have learned that Arthur Frommer likes our site, which we consider a singular honor, and we've had favorable mentions in the NY Times, National Geographic and the BBC. People from the weird-food-guy show, Andrew Zimmern, called to find out what they eat in Ethiopia. Anthony Bourdain's people follow Max on Twitter.
So we gradually soak up the idea that we're doing the right thing, and that makes it even more fun to come to work. ¶ 8:21 PM 2 comments
Bringing bloggers together for real-time conversations is a good cause, and one of the things we learned this week was that Orbitz likes to support good causes.
I was really glad that GoNOMAD was being honored in this way. Bloggers labor in obscurity, hoping somebody somewhere will grok what they are saying, and to be recognized by an internationally known company like Orbitz is a big deal for us.
I met a lot of incredibly knowledgeable writers from all over the blogosphere, and even though I couldn't understand half of what they were talking about, I expanded my little world in a big way.
I was surprised that I was invited, since this blog is primarily about used books, but I realized that Orbitz was really recognizing GoNOMAD.com, a website started in 2000 by Lauryn Axelrod that my cousin Max purchased in 2002 which he and I have been working on since 2005 with the invaluable assistance of our webmaster Joe Obeng.
Buoyed by the creativity of hundreds of writers all over the world, we have put together a site that will give you a bunch of different perspectives on any country in the world.
We have had the privilege of publishing lots of talented writers for the first time. And when they go on to write for the Atlantic Montly or the New York Times or Time Magazine, that's a great feeling that validates what we do.
Max and I both worked as writers for longer than we've been editors, so we know what it's like, and it gives us a real boost to help fellow writers on their way.
We also publish lots of great material by experienced travel writers. I'd give examples, but they're all great and I couldn't begin to mention them all in this space.
We have learned that Arthur Frommer likes our site, which we consider a singular honor, and we've had favorable mentions in the NY Times, National Geographic and the BBC. People from the weird-food-guy show, Andrew Zimmern, called to find out what they eat in Ethiopia. Anthony Bourdain's people follow Max on Twitter.
So we gradually soak up the idea that we're doing the right thing, and that makes it even more fun to come to work. ¶ 8:21 PM 2 comments
