Category: History (Page 1 of 3)

Sometimes, you never really get a chance to say a final goodbye. You know the end is coming and yet humans are very good at pretending that the status quo will endure indefinitely, on our terms. I would suggest and in fact opine that God has alternative plans which will only become obvious to us when we are no longer roaming our little corner of the world. Yet we imagine that we have some type of control as to timing and duration. Good luck with that.

When I received word that Dave Mann had passed, I wasn’t completely surprised. I really wasn’t even sad in the true sense of the word, as Dave had lived a good long life, and he was battling the cancer that had been with him for many years. Mostly, I was nostalgic about a chapter in my life that included Dave in a most prominent way. You see Dave was a coworker, friend, confidante, and sidekick. The best thing you can say about the special people you meet in life is that they occupy a corner, a small quadrant of your brain, that is theirs and theirs alone. For me, Dave was that kind of person. The memories of Dave will last a lifetime. This in no way suggests that he was perfect; he wasn’t, none of us are, but he was special. If, at the end of my time on earth, a few people can say that I was special, I will be happy with that outcome.

I joined McKenzie Farms at a time of great tumult in my life as I had essentially failed in the world of financial services. I began that foray in 1989 with the lowest of expectations as I was a History Major, graduating in 1987 from the University of California at Santa Barbara. Nevertheless, I worked hard, learned about the world of markets / financial services and managed to “enjoy” a thirteen-year run which included the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. In retrospect, I walked away with a passion for markets as well as skills that have served me well all these years later. For that I am very grateful.  

In 2002 I joined the family business hoping for the best, yet fully cognizant of the fact that I was once again entering very unfamiliar waters, figuring that I did it once, perhaps I could do it again. Dave was one of the first people I met, and he was always kind, understanding, and helpful. The whole family had moved from Southern California to the Portland, Oregon area. It was a difficult decision, a tough move, and the beginning of a new chapter in life. It seems as though Dave and I hit it off immediately and I really appreciated the many things I learned about trucking and the Christmas tree business from Dave. I was involved in sales, and I soon learned that sales and trucking in the Christmas tree business are connected at the hip. Buying and selling trees is actually the easy part. Getting them from point A to point B in a timely and equitable manner is really what separates the men from the boys (growing the trees is also no easy task). Dave really understood this well and he passed on a great deal of this knowledge to me. He had been around it for so long. He was there for my parents when the business was brand new. Without Dave and his wife Gaylene’s expertise in trucking, there wouldn’t have been a McKenzie Farms. My Dad has mentioned this to me on numerous occasions.  

Dave, myself, and a host of characters worked together for many years in the Aurora “shipping trailer” during the actual harvest period during mid-November through mid-December, and I can honestly say it was one of the crazier things I have done in my life. Christmas tree veterans know exactly what I am referring to, and for the rest of you, trust me. Any business that generates 100% of its revenues in a thirty-day (roughly) time frame can empathize. The best and most surprising part is that we had a great time. We knew we all had to depend on one another. We knew we had to help one another. And we knew we had to keep our sense of humor keen or risk the possibility of real mental fatigue and breakdown. Dave was a big part of the culture we created. I have so many memories of those days, more than I could ever mention here. What I remember most is how hard we worked and how much we smiled and laughed through it all.

A couple funny things about Dave; Dave may have been the pickiest eater I have ever known. Also, he was perhaps the most bird-like eater I have ever known. I can’t tell you how many times I marveled at Dave’s lack of a hearty appetite (unlike myself) and the long list of items he would not eat. I remember the time we were traveling on one of our preharvest trucking trips to California when Dave and I found ourselves in a place that had Vietnamese writing on all of the buildings. It was truly like being in a foreign country. I was thrilled to find a restaurant that had only a Vietnamese language menu. No one in the restaurant spoke a lick of English. I remember Dave looking at the menu with a perplexed (OK frightened) look on his face. He was hungry but there was no way he would even consider trying any of it. I told Dave that it looked great to me, and that we would find him a Taco Bell after I ate. I ordered something that was so hot and spicy that I remember literally pouring sweat as I ate it. Dave thought this was the funniest thing he had ever seen. We took him to a Taco Bell, and he was happy as a clam. No hot sauce or lettuce of any kind of course.

On another occasion we were doing another trucker trip with Dave, myself, and Chris Reznicek. We had planned a lunch at the home of one of the truckers. They were doing a big barbeque for us at their high desert place that was part farm, part junk yard, part truck parking / maintenance yard, and part commune for several families (both human and four legged). The place was kind of a shambles, but we appreciated their hospitality and were ready to partake in whatever they had for us. Now I must say Chris was an equally picky eater, but he was fine with meat. They had plenty of meat (I think it was beef though it could have been almost anything). I remember watching Dave knowing the setting was ripe for a classic Dave moment. In typical Dave fashion, he told our hosts how nice their place was and how much he appreciated the barbeque. Dave cautiously prepared himself a sparse taco which was essentially a tortilla, a small amount of meat, and a little cheese. Again, trying to be gracious as Dave always was, I hear Dave say to our host. “That cheese is really good, what kind is it?” To which our host responds, “Monterrey Jack”, but with his thick Hispanic accent it sounds like this- “MONT e Ray Yak.” I watched as Dave’s eyes suddenly became the size of saucers and I immediately recognized (because I knew him so well), that Dave thought he was eating yak cheese. Luckily we had a variety of hardscrabble dogs around the table, and I watched as Dave deftly (and covertly) found an eager volunteer to wolf it down. I asked Dave later if he thought he was eating yak cheese, and in fact that is exactly what he thought. Chris and I laughed so hard, we were crying. This was an inside joke among the three of us and Gene Rocha for years to come. 

On another occasion, Dave and I were staying in Cabazon (near Palm Springs) and we needed to get on the road by mid-morning to see the drivers we planned to see. I was training for a marathon at the time and my plan was to get up at 3:00 AM drive to Joshua Tree National Park and do a 20-mile run into the park (near the southern entrance). Ten miles in and then back to my car.  It was kind of eerie, yet it was one of the coolest runs I have ever done. Running by starlight through Joshua Tree National Park with not another person / car for the entirety of the run. Being pressed for time when I got back to Cabazon, I threw on some clothes (no shower / no food / no shaving), and off we went. I had decided before the trip that I wouldn’t shave for the entire trip. I imagine I looked like hell, but our schedule was set. As Dave and I were searching for one of our destinations (GPS was a fairly new thing back then), we stopped to get gas, and I told Dave I would ask the guy pumping gas next to us if he knew the area. As I walk up to the guy he starts fishing in his pants for change to give me as he thinks I’m a bum apparently. He was some guy from Europe who spoke very little English. When I got back to the car and told Dave the story, he laughed so hard I thought he was going to fall over or pee his pants (perhaps both). I kidded Dave a lot and he relished those moments when he could poke fun at me. We joked about this story numerous times over the years and Dave loved it every time.

There are so many stories I could tell, I suppose I will finish with a mention about Dave’s attire “quirks.” We were convinced that Dave was still wearing clothes that he had worn in the 7^th grade. Dave was living proof that if you wear something long enough, it will eventually come back in fashion. Perhaps the best part of this side of Dave was his tendency to layer even in summer weather. I remember being with Dave on a 100 degree plus day in Napa Valley, California. Dave is wearing jeans, an undershirt, a short sleeve shirt, and a jacket. It was unbelievable, and yet he was comfortable as can be though I believe he did shed the jacket at one point in time. The one time he did wear shorts on a trip to Palm Springs for team meeting, let’s just say “short shorts” and leave it at that. I’m not sure John Anderson remembers this, but I will never forget the look on his face. When the weather was cold, you could always expect a second coming of Nanook of the North. I believe I counted five layers and a jacket once. It was difficult at times to determine where the clothing ended, and Dave began. We had so much fun with this and Dave was always a great sport.

There is so much more I could say about Dave. Suffice it to say we loved him. He was Uncle Dave to all of us who knew him. We kidded him a lot, that is true, but remember this is how guys awkwardly show affection. I watched Dave interact with a lot of people over the years and I can genuinely say, Dave loved people. He once told me he planned to work forever because he wouldn’t know what to do with himself in a world devoid of all the people he interacted with on a daily basis. It looks like he got his wish.

Dave had special relationships with all of us at McKenzie Farms (which we sold in 2018). He and my Dad always had a special relationship. It was always fun to watch them interact. My sister Carey and her husband John were a part of the core beginnings of McKenzie Farms, you could always tell that they had been through a lot together and that there was a bond born of length and breadth. They had worked together for a long time, and they had been through a lot during that time. Kristina Roberts and Dave shared a trailer during the harvest time for many years. They always seemed to truly like and care for one another. Gene Rocha and Dave spent a lot of time with one another during our harvest period. Even after Gene no longer worked for us, there was always a connection. Chris Reznicsek, myself, and Dave travelled a lot together. Chris and Dave become very close as Chris was being groomed to play a prominent role in transportation once Dave became more involved with our Costco business. It was during our travels that I came up with the term “Driving Miss Davey”, as Dave would sit in the back of our rented car with his innumerable papers, pens, pencils, hats, and assorted other items while Chris and I took turns driving. We joked about it every year.  There are others I could mention such as Debbie Tedrow, Bob Campbell, Cubby Steinhardt, Allison Cook Castro, and Jerry Halamuda that had a connection with Dave.  The characteristics of the relationships were similar. Lots of smiles, lots of laughs, and a shared comradery that comes only through shared admiration and affection. I would finally add that Dave’s wife Gaylene was a true constant in his life, and you could really tell how devoted he was to her when you were around him.

Dave’s passing is a reminder of the passage of time and the memories that we create every day but fail to appreciate in the here and now. It takes time to realize what we HAD, and a hard-earned wisdom born of experience, to really appreciate the fact that special people in our lives touch our lives in ways which are difficult to articulate and process. They change us in a way that helps us to become better people through this association. Dave was that kind of guy. God was a steady part of Dave’s life though he was never particularly vocal about it. I feel quite sure he is in a better place and that his worries of this world are a distant memory. We all remember Dave fondly and carry a little bit of Dave around with us every day. 

“Yeah, we tease him a lot ‘cause we got him on the spot.”

John Sebastin- Welcome Back

TMC

9/3/24       

Baz Luhrmann is his song / poem The Sunscreen Song says the following-

“Don’t worry about the future, or worry, but know worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing Bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your troubled mind. The kind that blindsides you at 4 PM on some idle Tuesday.”

In my life I have found this to be amazingly true. Most of the things we worry about never materialize. We worry nonetheless and yet, the troubles which we DO NOT see coming are the ones that hit us right between the eyes. Sometimes they change our lives forever.  

Early this past week I received a family group text from my dad stating that our Uncle Ron was in intensive care and in very bad shape, suffering from advanced dementia. By Thursday he was gone. I still find it really difficult to believe, and yet it is true, nothing that I can do or say will change it. Importantly, life does go on just as it always has. Rather than worry about the “how did this happen” and “the why did this happen” concerns, I have decided to use this moment as an opportunity to share some of the heartfelt memories associated with Uncle Ron, and why it is really important that we celebrate, remember, and even learn a thing or two. His life was full of troubles, triumphs, and even mundane moments. This is part of being human. I write this as a way of coping with personal closure, in the hope that it will speak to others who knew Uncle Ron and to those who can commiserate with the parallels in their own lives.  

Ron McRoberts was born in Los Angeles, California in 1944 at a time of global war and life changing conflict (most people do not know that 75 million people died worldwide in that war); it was the defining event of the 20^th century. It shaped the way people of that era thought. Death was personal rather than abstract (kind of difficult to imagine). He and my mom were also experiencing terrible personal trauma, as young children, dealing with the loss of their father Thomas / “Tommy” (32) to cancer in 1946 after a long battle with the deadly disease (in case you were wondering, I was named after Thomas). Ron, obviously, had no memory of this consciously and yet the subconscious (then little understood) ramifications of a loss like this are just starting to be unraveled by scientists and psychologists. Needless to say, life was hard, sadness was omnipresent, and innocence was lost one could reasonably assume. In 1949 the small family moved to Encinitas, California where there were some immediate family members nearby.  The better news, my grandmother (Lina) remarried a good man (Harry), and the new family added a daughter / sister (Margaret) to the mix, and it seems as though life normalized a bit after the shock of losing Thomas. For Ron, Harry was the father that he knew and from what I have been told, the new location and relationship were good for Ron. It is said among my family that Ron bore a strong resemblance to Thomas.

The next eventful story which I remember has to do with a fatal car crash in which Ron, now a junior in high school, was a passenger. Alcohol was involved and it was initially thought Ron was the driver. It ultimately turned out that he wasn’t, and sadly his best friend Vince (the actual driver) did in fact die in the crash. Ron sustained a serious injury to his arm. The injury was so severe that doctors initially wanted to remove the arm. My grandmother refused to consent to this. The arm ultimately healed though it was never fully functioning for the rest of his life. Recently my mom told me that they were newly married (1961) while all of this was happening. This included making a move from California to Minnesota for a promising job opportunity for my dad. They extended support from a far but were unable to be directly involved.    

I was born in 1963. I know that my mom and Ron retained a close relationship, especially after my parents returned to California shortly after my birth in Minneapolis, Minnesota. It was around this time that Uncle Ron was dubbed “Hammer” by my dad when on a visit to their new rented place in San Diego, Ron produced a much-needed hammer from his car. Funny, insignificant story, but I remember my dad always referring to Ron as “Hammer.” Amazing the little things our brains remember and store away over the years.

I have no specific memory of Uncle Ron becoming a beloved person in the lives of myself and my siblings, it was more of a gradual thing (Amy (oldest), me, Allison, and Carey (youngest). I do believe Carey was too young to recall some of this, but I remember well how we all played games and had adventures in ways that kids of today would probably have a hard time understanding. There were no iPhones and no internet. We were left to the machinations of our imaginations. Boredom was a constant companion and a capable foe, yet our imaginations would inevitably come to our rescue. I remember playing a game with Uncle Ron based on the cartoon Underdog Underdog (TV series) – Wikipedia.* I believe this may have been only Uncle Ron, Amy, and myself. We would all pretend to be characters from the cartoon, and Uncle Ron, as Underdog would always save the day (just like the cartoon). We had so much fun, and Uncle Ron would go along for as long as we wanted. I recall going to Balboa Park in San Diego and creating elaborate adventures. It was Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn circa late 1960’s and early 1970’s and we loved it. It probably provided my parents with some much need respite from the challenges of four young children.  

Once again time marches on inexorably and I remember two significant things relative to Uncle Ron. First, he started working for Pacific Southwest Airlines (PSA Airlines based in San Diego), and that he married Michelle (also a PSA employee) who had a son Geoff from a previous marriage. Geoff became a constant companion during those wonderful summer breaks at our place at 1659 Torrance Street in San Diego. He was essentially like a brother to me, and he would become quite close with my sisters as well. We had a pool and I remember spending hours upon hours in that pool enjoying the warm Southern California summers. Life was good as we navigated the golden years of life in a world that still had a strong sense of right and wrong. We never gave it much thought, we just knew our place in the pecking order of life and accepted it gladly. Funny, I don’t remember any of my guy buddies suddenly wanting to be addressed as Shirley??? 

I have many fond memories of family gatherings during holidays and random weekends in which the whole family would gather. It was food, fun, pool time, and an opportunity to renew the bonds that only family can provide. 1659 Torrance Street virtually sat atop the San Diego Airport. It was a magical spot; the evenings provided a spectacle of lights and activity that we took for granted; it was a constellation of activity and energy (and yes it could get a little loud). Uncle Ron, Aunt Michelle, Geoff, my grandparents, and Margaret were constants in our lives. We would always end the proceedings with a basketball shooting game in which every participant had to consecutively make a shot (distance based on their ability) before we could call it a night. Uncle Ron, Geoff, Allison, and myself (I can’t even remember who else participated). It was often quite dark before we managed to pull it off and Geoff was always the best part of the proceedings as he would live and die with every shot. We literally laughed until we cried at times. Uncle Ron was always so encouraging and patient. We loved him for his willingness to become one of us. Always fun, always kind, always patient, and always available.  

1978 become another important year in the story of Uncle Ron. PSA was a major West Coast airline at that time and Ron had a fairly high-ranking job in the Customer Service Division. PSA Flight 182 was a scheduled flight from Sacramento to San Diego with a stopover in Los Angeles. The date was September 25^th, the flight had 128 passengers (including 29 PSA employees), and 7 crew members. The Boeing 727-214 collided midair with a Cessna 172 light aircraft with two passengers. Both planes went down in a (North Park), San Diego neighborhood. There were no survivors and a total of 144 fatalities which included 7 on the ground. Additionally, 9 people on the ground in the neighborhood were injured. At the time it was the worst aviation disaster in the country’s history. With the passage of time, it now stands as the sixth deadliest. Ron was supposed to be on that flight and in fact it was assumed that he was. Remember, there were no cell phones to get confirmation to the contrary on these kinds of things. Pacific Southwest Airlines Flight 182 – Wikipedia **

 Although it has never been confirmed, I’m sure that Uncle Ron (and Aunt Michelle), probably knew most of the 29 PSA employees and some of the crew quite well. Ron was called to the scene of the crash to help identify PSA personnel (sometimes that was just a body part). How in the world do you prepare yourself for something like this and perhaps more importantly, how do you recover from the shock of doing so. I know combat veterans face circumstances like this all the time, but that is war, not some random Monday. I do not remember ever talking to Ron about this. I was 15 at the time and I do remember the crash quite well as it was a huge story in San Diego.

This was around the time when I stopped seeing Uncle Ron as much. Our family had moved to Del Mar in North County San Diego in 1977 (1515 West Lane) and life began to change as it is wont to do. Uncle Ron never stopped being Uncle Ron to all of us kids. We simply saw him a lot less often as we started to become teenagers and young adults (me perhaps more so as I moved to Santa Barbara for college). I thought about Uncle Ron from time to time, hopeful that he was doing well. Geoff and I made a point to reach out to each other every Christmas in homage to the many wonderful memories of the past (which included lots of Christmas Day gatherings).

The last time I saw Uncle Ron was a very unhappy occasion (2016). *** It was at the funeral for my 18-year-old niece Kayla Castro (The only daughter of my sister Allison and her husband Larry). Kayla died in a climbing accident while a student at Grand Canyon University. Both he and Geoff attended. It was under the absolute worst of circumstances and yet it was so good to see them both. One of the things that struck me was how well Ron had aged, and how, despite all the difficult things he had endured, the Uncle Ron of old retained that spark that separated him from most people. He had every reason to be a different person, no one would have faulted him and yet, the better angels of his nature prevailed. 

One of the things that first struck me when I first heard about Uncle Ron, who was in his 79^th year at the time of his passing, was the amazing power of the passage of time and the inevitable change which transforms each and every one of us. Physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual change. One can fight them (and lose), or you can surrender to them (and find a sense of peace). It is an either-or thing. And the end can come quickly as it did for Uncle Ron. I believe that death is not the end but merely a beginning.  I am hopeful that Ron shared that belief.  

“Then you walk to the window and stare at the moon
Riding high and lonesome through a starlit sky
And it comes to you how it all slips away
Youth and beauty are gone one day
No matter what you dream or feel or say
It ends in dust and disarray.”

Bob Seger- Fire Inside. The Fire Inside (youtube.com)

“I have told you these things, so that in me you might have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

John 16:33

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life,”

John 3:16

To this day when I find myself in San Diego, I occasionally head over to 1659 Torrance, and I remember all the good times we had there. Uncle Ron is certainly a person I associate with those times and that chapter of life. It will feel different now somehow, although “different” does not mean bad. Simply different… 

I also find myself visiting 1515 West Lane from time to time. Different chapter / different memories. I often find myself drawn to a mighty tree that grows on the border between our old next-door neighbor’s property, and think of my old friend Greg Wolf who planted a little sapling which was a free giveaway from The Growing Grounds (a nursery and gourmet cookware business my dad started, with a big assist from my mom). That now mighty tree has provided me with the greatest metaphor for the passage of time. I actually thought of that tree when I heard Uncle Ron had passed knowing that I had missed a great deal of his life and regretted the fact that I never took the time to tell him how much he meant to us. I think he knew yet I do feel guilty over not making more of an effort to stay in touch. The lesson here is that time does its thing irrespective of us. Take the time to remember the special people in your life, before days become weeks, weeks become months, months become years, and years become decades. I realize this is cliché’ yet it is useful cliché’.

“Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle. Because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young,”

Baz Luhrmann

The Sunscreen Song

I like to think of Uncle Ron looking down on all of us, anxiously awaiting the time we can be reunited. Something tells me he is up to his old tricks. Everyone needs an Uncle Ron!

Special mention of Ron’s cousins from my grandmother’s youngest brother George—– Steve and Rich. Ron remained close to them over the years and they both meant a great deal to him.

Special mention from my sister Allison- She wanted me to mention the hours of fun we had making fun of Goofus and Gallant. If you are under 50, you have no idea what I’m talking about.  Goofus and Gallant – Wikipedia. Truly cringe worthy. Kids can always tell when someone is trying too hard to be virtuous. We laughed until we cried (something we did often)!****

Ronald Thomas McRoberts- June 12^th, 1944 —- March 21^st, 2024.

Thomas M. Cook

3/25/2024 Oregon City / Oregon.

What The Holocaust Can Teach Us In 2023

Kitty (Felix) Hart and Tova (Grossman) Freidman have astounding first-person Holocaust testimonials that all people should take the time to hear (see links below). They are not pleasant stories unfortunately, yet these determined voices from the recent past have a lot to tell us about what happens when evil starts to gain momentum and then flourish unopposed. These two women are part of a well-documented, yet often ignored story of what happened (on a day-to-day basis) during the Jewish Holocaust. They were survivors in an environment in which mere survival was a moment-by-moment DAILY challenge. Sportscaster Al Michaels famous quip, “Do you believe in miracles” declaration during the 1980 Winter Olympics (as the US hockey team defeated the thought to be invincible Russian hockey team) echoes the reaction one has in response to hearing how these two young women survived seemingly certain death on numerous occasions. Silly apples to oranges comparison, but this is how I felt listening to their stories. In both cases their survival was nothing short of miraculous. We have probably all heard the numbers. Six million deaths is a very large number and the names of places like Auschwitz, Dachau, and Treblinka have become household names for many of us with a little (or a lot) of gray in our hair, though I would be willing to bet, with the passage of time, and the changes in our schools, it will not be too long before they (the deaths and the places) are forgotten or at least diminished in terms of a collective remembrance of what evil has the power to perpetrate. These were not simply bad, misguided people, these were evil people. I am convinced of that, and moreover, I am convinced that evil merely lies dormant for a time, it is always with us, just waiting for an opportunity to emerge when the conditions are right.

I cannot tell you precisely why I felt compelled to watch / listen to their stories / interviews (more than once because I immediately knew this was something I wanted to share). Something just struck me powerfully that these stories are for today. I do recall having an assembly in high school during which a Holocaust survivor spoke. Her story was one that seemed impossible to replicate in the friendly confines of late 70’s / early 80’s America. It was interesting, incomprehensible, and tied to an era in our history which seemed SO long ago and so utterly surreal at the time. I had always had an interest in History so I probably knew a little more than the average late-teen kid, yet the thought that evil of this level could rear its ugly head again in my lifetime seemed implausible. Nevertheless, having an interest in History also meant that I had a fairly decent understanding of human beings’ ability to be amazingly cruel to one another. This realization has always compelled me to fall on the “man is inherently evil” versus the “man is inherently good” side of the age-old argument. In fact, I find the latter argument laughable. I know there are probably many who would make this argument; if you study history at all, I do not see how one could support it. From a historical perspective, there are no good races and bad races, no good civilizations and bad civilizations, no good times in history and bad times in history. There is simply a panorama or broad sweep of time in which people (often) behave quite badly. It is a human thing. Color, gender, nationality, and religious affiliation have little to do with it.

 Early in her interview with Brandon Uhlig, Tova Friedman makes it very clear that the German people who orchestrated the Holocaust were “very smart.” In fact, Germany was one of the most highly educated countries in the world at the time of her incarceration at Auschwitz. She goes on to utter the comment which has stuck with me and inspired me to write and title this piece. “Education without morality is completely worthless.” That was referencing mid to late 1930’s / early 1940’s Germany and yet these are truly words that pertain to 2023 in so many ways. The interviewer prefaces his interview with a description of the times as a “time when the world went mad.” Once again this seems to describe 2023 as well. More on this later. If the world isn’t mad right now, I shutter to think what it will look like when / if that day arrives. Remember, these things start slowly. The Nazis knew that they had to demonize before they could subjugate; and they had to subjugate and instill fear (among both the Jewish and German population) before they could exterminate. It was all remarkably well thought out. Dissent was a brave, yet dangerous choice. Sound a bit familiar?

Born in 1938, Torva Friedman was a young girl during her time at Auschwitz. “Mad” was all that she knew. She was Polish and Germany invaded Poland in 1939. As a matter of interest, the family was out celebrating her first birthday when her home was destroyed by a bomb that destroyed their home and killed an uncle who was left behind.  Whether or not her youth was an advantage or disadvantage is open to debate. She ended up in Auschwitz with her mother and her father ended up being in Dachau (he miraculously survived as well). Her mother chose the tactic of being incredibly honest with young Torva and basically coached her through the entire experience as best she could and kept her alive on many occasions. They were separated from time to time, but they always managed to reunite when Torva needed her most. She experienced being essentially hidden and alone for long periods of time when the camp commanders called for all the children to be rounded up. The Germans knew that the very young and the very old were essentially useless for work and in the case of the very young they were potentially dangerous if in fact they survived and sought revenge later. These were the very first to be exterminated in the crematoriums. Interesting and inexplicably, she was ultimately discovered, and the random German officer chose to let it pass. Had it been a different officer or perhaps a different day, summary execution for not following orders was the norm. It happened daily. A little later, Torva Friedman was in fact part of a group of children headed for the gas chambers when the Germans realized that her group had arrived out of order, and she was able to survive another day. She had filed by her disconsolate mother, headed to this certain death, only to retrace her steps. Can you even imagine the range of emotions her mother must have endured. She had been in captive groups just prior to Auschwitz when the Germans simply opened fire indiscriminately killing men, women, and children. The job of the living was always to dispose of the dead. As a young child she saw things that no one should see and yet for her, it was nothing particularly unusual. Her only goal, as guided by her mother was to survive. Another time her mother had gotten some bread to her for her birthday (at great risk and cost as she was discovered and beaten). Young Torva tied it to a string around her neck, waiting for that time when death was near, only to be attacked at night by rats who ate the bread but left her completely unscathed. Amazingly, she slept through the whole thing. Rats, the size of the ones they had in camp, could, and often did become, a dangerous encounter when young children were involved. Another time she was publicly beaten by a brutal female guard until her flailing arms tired and young Torva had the intestinal fortitude at five to not cry out; she didn’t want to give her assailant the satisfaction. Astonishing, to say the least. Contrast that with the way our children are being taught to deal with the slightest of affronts. Fragile children become fragile adults. Fragility was an invitation to perish at Auschwitz. Fragility now is seen as a form of empowerment.   

Near the end of the war, when the Russians and Americans were closing in, the Germans started to panic and kill people indiscriminately in order to hide what they had done. Unfortunately for them, they knew their time was up and the urge to run was stronger than the urge to purge. Unbelievably, Torva Friedman’s mother had the foresight to take her young daughter into a camp hospital and wrap her young daughter within the arms of a recently dead hospital patient (still warm) with strict life and death instructions to stay put until she came back for her. Torva Friedman relates later that she knew exactly what to do and why they were doing it. Her mother used the same tactic. The Germans came in, shouted out orders for all to get up, and promptly shot all who did so. Once the shooting stopped and the soldiers had left, young Torva and her mother emerged from their macabre hiding places and discovered that a handful of camp prisoners had employed the same tactic. The instinct for survival is an amazing thing. Once again, with death all around them, they cheated it themselves through guile and a little luck.

Ironically, liberation meant death for many of the survivors. Offered food by their liberators, many gorged themselves despite the fact that their bodies were in a dire state that needed to reintroduce food slowly. Remarkably, Torva’s mother guided her through this as well and she managed to navigate that which took the lives of so many who had survived a frightful existence. The irony is both sad and incomprehensible. Others, simply overcome by the anguish and stress of the situation, had nervous breakdowns once the day-to-day quest for survival ended and they simply let go of life or were never the same (broken mentally).

Kitty (Felix) Hart was a young teenager when her ordeal began. She was born in 1926 and was a young teenager when the German Army invaded Poland in 1939. He earliest memories of the conquering Nazi’s included a childlike fascination with them initially. She was, as only a young child can be in a time of incredible calamity, drawn to their elaborate, impressive uniforms and black boots as they marched through her hometown early in her introduction to what the Germans had in mind for Polish Jews. Her first realization of this came rather suddenly as she was walking home from school one day with a boy about the same age. There was an unspoken rule that any German soldiers walking on the streets had the unconditional right of way. The Polish townspeople were expected to vacate the sidewalk and let them pass, immediately. When her young friend failed to do this on their walk home, a Nazi officer pulled out his side-pistol and shot the boy in the head killing him instantly. Kitty Hart now knew it was a life / death proposition. Her childlike fascination with the Germans ended that day. As did her childhood.    

Her parents did all they could to hide the fact that they were Jews. They were essentially on the run. Her older brother made it to Russia and was ultimately killed in action fighting for the Russian Army. Her grandmother was taken away and never seen again. Her father suffered a similar fate. Kitty Hart and her mother Lola ended up with a group of Polish laborers trying to hide their Jewish ancestry once it became clear the Germans were looking to seek them out as part of their Final Solution. It soon became clear that the group of laborers included a number of Jews, which included Kitty Hart and her mother. Kitty Hart remembers a German officer telling the now discovered Jews that there would be a “dancing lesson” the following day. They could all tell from his tone, and the fact that he derisively encouraged them to say their goodbyes, the Germans intended to execute them. The following morning at dawn, they marched them out to a wall and leveled machine guns at them, only to fire the guns above their heads. Kitty, whose head was turned to the wall, initially thought they had missed her. The laughter of the German soldiers and the screams of the traumatized prisoners told her that it had all been a ruse to intimidate and terrorize them. How does one forget something like this? Little did she know, the worst was yet to come. I am once again reminded of how fragile we have become in recent years. These people had much to endure, and many survived to carry on with their lives. Full lives. Hard to imagine the people of 2023 showing the same kind of resilience. As previously mentioned, fragile children become fragile adults, and let me add, fragile adults are easily manipulated.

Kitty and her mother eventually end up in Auschwitz in the latter part of 1942. Just like with Torva Friedman, the mother / daughter bond is the force that drives them to survive. Interestingly, they experience similar yet slightly different experiences in the camp. During Kitty’s first night in Auschwitz, she sleeps next to an older gypsy women who looks at Kitty’s hands and tells her she will survive. Kitty uses this as a motivation to stay alive in a place where the will to live quickly wanes for many. Kitty feels incredibly cold during that first evening and realizes, after the command to get up for morning roll call that the gypsy woman has died during the night. Her cold, dead body is the very thing that made Kitty feel extra cold. Remarkably, on her first night in Auschwitz, Kitty has the amazing, uncanny cunning to realize that she and her mother needed to quickly strip this woman of her clothes, take her shoes, and scan her pockets for any morsels of bread. These were the currency of the camp, and one’s ability to understand this and act upon it was often the difference between life and death.

Kitty Hart relates how she simply tried to hide a great deal of the time. One of the things that really struck me was her description of her bowl which served as a receptacle for her meager ration, a way to capture a lifesaving drip of water here and there, and a means to wash her body (usually with her own urine or perhaps the green colored tea that was sometimes distributed). Lose your bowl and you were as good as dead. All of the prisoners tied it to their body as some fellow prisoners became another type of enemy within the camp. Kitty Hart resigned herself to never taking anything from the living (as many did); she did, however, learn rather quickly that the dead were all around her and it was the prisoner’s job to dispose of the seemingly never-ending supply of fresh dead bodies. She sought out these jobs and it most likely saved her life on numerous occasions. A scrap of bread here, a change of clothes there, and perhaps even a pair of shoes became a kind of currency that allowed one to get the things needed for survival (often from Kapos) *. Just imagine a life such as this, and far worse when you consider that many were simply sent to the gas chambers as this day-to-day nightmare unfolded. The dead in some respects were the lucky ones.   

Like Torva Friedman, Kitty Hart experiences a number of brushes with certain death. At least twice she had encounters with the infamous Joseph Mengele (white gloves and all) **. On one occasion, he came into the “hospital” ward where her mother worked and where Kitty Hart happened to be convalescing from typhus. Moments before he came in and decided to “eliminate” the entire group of patients, Kitty’s mother managed to hide her under a mattress. This saved her life, and ironically she was placed in a situation whereby she helped to load these very same patients on a vehicle taking them to certain death. Kitty wanted to go with them as the guilt of what she was doing overcame her desire to live. Once again, her mother stepped in and physically stopped her from joining people who had become her friends. On another occasion, her mother supplied a weakened Kitty with the will to run rather than crawl in front of Mengele, as those who were incapacitated to this degree were taken for extermination in the gas chambers. There were other examples yet the underlying thought that Kitty Hart shared, everyone needed others around them to survive. A word of encouragement or a crumb of bread when one was at their lowest point was the difference between survival and simply giving up. 

Interestingly, near the end of the war, the Germans decided to move some of the prisoners from Auschwitz to camps within Germany. This became the most difficult part of her whole ordeal (Torva Freidman and her mother escaped this “march” by hiding among the dead patients in the hospital). She saw many of her fellow “death marchers” clubbed to death and shot along the way. Food was scarce as well and many of even the most hardened Auschwitz prisoners died in route. Kitty Hart relates that her will to survive began to coalesce around a deep-seated desire for revenge. This insatiable desire for revenge most likely saved her life. As Nietzsche stated, “He who has a why to live for, can bear with almost any how.” Kitty Hart had her “why.” Her mother managed to survive the journey as well though she never succumbed to the kind of enmity that was growing in young Kitty.

While in a camp in Germany (1945) the Jewish prisoners notice some unfamiliar soldiers milling around outside the gates (Americans). Obviously they can tell their liberation is close. Inexplicably, near the end, an SS officer comes in among the inmate population whereby they immediately fall upon him and start to beat him. Kitty Hart is on the periphery of this group, and she even manages to secure a dagger from his boot. The SS officer manages to escape, and Kitty Hart now has the instrument “to kill the next German she comes in contact with.” The revenge which kept her alive on the brutal march to Germany now has the means to manifest. Eventually the American soldiers get into the camp and manage to turn off the electrified fences. Kitty Hart raids the SS storehouses of food and manages to get some bread for her mother and herself as well as many others.

Refreshed and rejuvenated (as best people can be after what they had endured) by some bread from the SS stores and rations from the American soldiers, a group of prisoners (“a mob” in Kitty’s own words) which includes Kitty Hart and her recently procured dagger start to walk about the small town bent on destruction. Most of the townspeople had evacuated the town knowing that the Allies were close. Finally, they come upon a small house, and they hear voices and the crying of children coming from the cellar. As the group bursts into the cellar, Kitty Hart now has her chance to extract the revenge that seemed so vitally important to her mere moments ago. But, as she found herself with the actual opportunity to kill, all the while egged on by the former prisoners in the “mob”, she comes to the realization that to do so would make her just as bad as the Germans. These people who were huddled and frightened, she concludes, felt just as she had felt such a short time ago. She ended up throwing the knife in the opposite direction and fell to the ground, her desire for revenge dissipated instantaneously. She knew that the Nazis had not won the battle for her soul, and it was a tremendous relief for this young girl who had clearly used hatred as a means to carry on another day. It served its purpose but in the end the better angels of her being prevailed. Imagine what she could have become, and further imagine what kind and hatred and rage many others must have carried for the rest of their lives. And who could truly fault them.  

As I think about all of this, I am reminded that both women felt an intense responsibility to tell their respective stories in stunning detail. Torva Friedman remained convinced, late in life, that something like this was sure to happen again. Kitty Hart, while being filmed at Auschwitz with her son David in the late 1970’s, feels as though she owes this painful re-living and retelling to the many who did not survive; she speaks for them.  Also, she mentions the fact that some were now claiming that it never happened. Over 30 members of her family died at Auschwitz. Torva Freidman would speak to any group that would have her and she particularly relished the opportunity to speak with children. As of the time of this writing, both women are still with us. Soon, they will all be gone yet the stories should never die.

So where do we go from here? Sadly, there are many people who know very little about what happened to these two woman and millions of others during a time of World War and incredible brutality. Surely, it could never happen again. I tend to agree with that conclusion as a basically optimistic person. However, and this is a rather large however, history tends to repeat itself and people tend to make the same mistakes over wide sweeps of time. The country and the world for that matter have rarely been more polarized. Technology has enabled that polarization and has in fact stoked the fires of its intensity. Despite the fact that connectivity has never been easier, a growing sense of loneliness, depression, and despair has rarely been greater, especially among our youth. *** Crime is essentially going unpunished in many of our cities and the police are being portrayed as villains rather than admired, respected defenders of law and order. Without law and order you have chaos, and with chaos you ultimately experience a loss of civility and respect for other people. The Nazis knew that they had to portray and sell the concept that the Jews were bad and unworthy. Crimes against them really weren’t crimes. They had to start slowly, and they needed to teach this to the very young in the schools. The young children had to see this debasement of the Jews in all of its forms before they could conceptualize and accept the vilification. At some point in time, it became acceptable to round them up and systematically kill them. And it became dangerous for those brave few who stepped up and opposed the status quo. The status quo became a process rather than an immediate goal.

Just a quick look at some of the things happening today and perhaps you can connect a few scary dots; perhaps you cannot and that is fine. In trying to understand the Holocaust, I’m drawn to the corollary of trying to understand what is happening in our world today with an uncomfortable study of any possible and concerning connections. I see them and that is why I have taken the time to write this and urge readers to listen to the words of two women who speak of what happens when morals and common decency take a backseat to an “end justifies the means” mentality. Our problems are different in terms of the stage of progression and the general decay being felt. However, once society starts to forget God, favor equity over equality, excuse criminality, frame law enforcement as racist, tell our young (and not so young) that being a white person is bad and requires an apology, celebrate a genderless mindset, celebrate sexual perversion, view meritocracy as a vestige of patriarchal bias, encourage a narcissism which worships celebrity and fame, elect openly corrupt politicians, and open our borders in a way that diminishes our unique American culture (suggests no desire to assimilate), you are headed in a direction that is uncertain at best, potentially catastrophic at worst. This is only a partial list unfortunately yet the madness of it all is a little hard to miss. The world can go mad in many different ways. World War II and the Holocaust is one example of madness complete with unthinkable dislocation, tragedy, and loss. That chapter has been written. The good guys won. This new book is still awaiting the concluding chapters. Do we extricate ourselves from this mess, which has now unfortunately, become the new normal or do we have a moment of resurgence and a return to sanity.  Sadly, only God knows the answer.

But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. ² People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, ³ without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, ⁴ treacherous, rash, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God— ⁵ having a form of godliness but denying its power. Have nothing to do with such people.

2 Timothy 3:1-5

“Once a government is committed to the principle of silencing the voice of opposition, it has only one way to go, and that is down the path of increasingly repressive measures, until it becomes a source of terror to all its citizens and creates a country where everyone lives in fear.”

Harry Truman

“Politicians and diapers must be changed often, and for the same reason.”

Mark Twain

“Man is the cruelest animal.”

Friedrich Nietzsche

https://youtu.be/w-Ji1e2NVQA  Torva Friedman interview

https://youtu.be/Dntryh_9o8Y  Kitty (Felix) Hart documentary

* A Kapo or prisoner functionary was a special type of prisoner in the Nazi concentration camps during The Holocaust. Kapos were chosen by the Schutzstaffel (SS) camp guards to help run the camps. Some Kapos were in charge of other prisoners, who had to do forced labor.

  ** Josef Mengele – Wikipedia

*** Surgeon General Warns That Social Media May Harm Children and Adolescents – The New York Times (nytimes.com)

Thomas M. Cook

6/1/23   

This has been one of my biggest pet peeves over the years (the use of 110%, 120%, 1000%, etc. as a way of expressing effort and/or commitment) and I feel the need to exorcise it now. We have all heard it said countless times and in countless ways. And I am here to tell you it makes no sense at all and is a bad habit that we should all work hard to break immediately.  

100% is a CEILING, you cannot exceed 100% of something like effort or commitment however hard you try. Any attempt to do so diminishes the mathematical definition of 100%. It means, “entirely and completely.” There is no delta above “entirely and completely.” Sorry to be the badly needed voice of reason. But what about the athlete who talks about giving 110% or the politician stating that she is 120% behind some cause? It is, more than anything, simply blatantly lazy language. Rather than go into the specifics of how said athlete plans to give it his all or the hypothetical politician getting into the details of why a particular cause is worthy of her full support, both can simply toss out the “100% plus something” cliché’ and clumsily attest to their respective earnestness in the particular undertaking. OK, I’m going to go beyond the classification of “lazy” and also toss in “stupid.”

A perfect analogy would be a cup of coffee. You don’t go to your local coffee place and order 120% of your order. You could decide to order a medium instead of a small, or perhaps you could even opt for a large. Each would be 100% of what they are, again 100% is a ceiling rather than a loose association with totality. Moreover, you don’t offer someone 120% of a pen and tell them this is a special kind of pen. You don’t buy a shirt with the request that the shirt be 110% of a shirt. You simply buy the shirt knowing that it is a shirt (the 100% is assumed). If you wanted to cut the sleeves off later I suppose you could have 75% of a shirt. However, and this is a big however, the shirt can never be added to and worn without looking a little silly. Few people would add a second neck hole just for kicks. And, sorry, the 100% limit rule would still apply. Putting in an extra neck hole doesn’t make it 120% of a shirt.   

I can sense what some of you might be thinking. Lighten up TC, it is just an expression which denotes ultimate effort or total commitment. People have been using the “100% plus something” expression for a long time now and it is no big deal. It is a part of the global cultural norm now so let it go. I wish that I could, but you see, it is such a glaring example of the very opposite principle that it purports to champion, total effort. It in fact demeans total effort, lazily (as mentioned), by feeling the need to add something to something which already signifies COMPLETE effort and or support (i.e., 100% effort or support). So, would I die on that logical/ semantic hill? Yes, I would.

While we are at it, there is another numerical phenomenon that deserves attention in this space, the number one trillion. This number gets tossed around these days (mostly by politicians) as though it is a large yet seriously intentioned number when it comes to a proposed governmental spending that they are 120% committed to (sorry couldn’t resist). I am here to tell you that the number one trillion is anything but graspable and understandable by our finite human brains. As a matter of fact, this number comes as close to a definition of infinite as any number that I somewhat commonly hear.

What do you mean, a trillion is obviously a number? Yes it is. And, as mentioned, a very big number indeed that has no business being bantered about so casually. The final calculations differ slightly, yet ONE TRILLIONS SECONDS = roughly 31,710 years (PLEASE READ THIS TWICE). So next time you hear a politician talk about the need for a 2.6 trillion-dollar spending bill (or whatever the insane amount might be—- Build Back Better comes to mind), be a little smarter and push back on the almost routine need to spend that kind of money when our country has a current national debt of over 31 trillion dollars. Taxes anyone? Saddling future generations with insurmountable debt? The government can print more money, we the people cannot (without ending up in prison).   

I would suggest that once we become lazy in our language and way of expressing thoughts we also become lazy in our way of understanding the complex (be it a number or a concept). Said another way, I am completely opposed to the initiation of profligate governmental spending programs based on the fact our current national debt cannot support it. If I were a fifth grader you might even say, I’m 110% against it. See, that was easy once you take the time to give it some thought rather than drown in the sea of soundbite logic and shortcut analysis.

As a last aside, being that we just celebrated Thanksgiving, I thought it would be interesting to include Abraham Lincoln’s proclamation that formally established a day of thanksgiving for all of the states in the midst of the Civil War, just in case you may feel that we (2022 people) are vastly superior in terms of intelligence to the people of the 1860’s. The above argument would suggest otherwise.

 Also consider the fact that this proclamation was written for all people to read or hear, and that God receives a prominent place in the convincing, yet humble rhetoric. Read the beautifully crafted words and compare them to the “eloquence” of what we get today. If you still feel that we aren’t a little lazy and simplistic with our language (and our ability to tackle complex concepts) , there probably isn’t anything I could say to convince you even if I had a trillion seconds to do so.

  Washington, D.C.
October 3, 1863

By the President of the United States of America.

A Proclamation.

The year that is drawing towards its close, has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are of so extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever-watchful providence of Almighty God. In the midst of a civil war of unequalled magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign States to invite and to provoke their aggression, peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere except in the theatre of military conflict; while that theatre has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union. Needful diversions of wealth and of strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defense, have not arrested the plough, the shuttle, or the ship; the axe has enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded even more abundantly than heretofore. Population has steadily increased, notwithstanding the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege, and the battlefield; and the country, rejoicing in the consciousness of augmented strength and vigor, is permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom. No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy. It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently, and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquility and Union.

In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the Seal of the United States to be affixed.

Done at the City of Washington, this Third day of October, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, and of the Independence of the United States the Eighty-eighth.

By the President: Abraham Lincoln

William H. Seward,
Secretary of State

“Within each person, the person you are today and the person you are capable of becoming tomorrow.  Most people work at less than 50% and are satisfied by doing just enough to get by.  Those who aspire to greatness are those who use 100% of what God has given us.”

Ken Cook

TMC 11/26/22

I am an ardent proponent of knowing one’s History. You are most likely familiar with the cliches that come with this statement. Learn from History or you will be doomed to repeat it. Hard to know where you are going if you don’t know where you have been. Man learns from History that man doesn’t learn from History.I could go on and on and I would further suggest that even the most resistant or merely agnostic among us as to the value of History would agree that our past is intricately tied to our present, and our present most likely has a lot to say about what our future will look like, even if that future is a future without us being a part of it. The world looks very different to a “twenty something” than it does to an “eighty something.” On that we can all agree. A big part of being young is feeling immortal and self-important and a big part of being older is realizing the folly of such thinking. Yet, the juxtaposition of those two outlooks have been with us for a long time and will, most likely, remain with us indefinitely.

One of the most amazing parts about being middle-aged is that I have a perspective on life that I could have gained in no other way than surviving for nearly sixty years. I have seen TRENDS and FRIENDS come and go. I have seen “new normal” become “what were we thinking” and I have seen and experienced the Forever Friendships and Forever Relationships become dust in the wastebin of time and space. This isn’t unusual, it is all a part of life as a human being on planet earth. Moreover, if something is exceedingly enjoyable in your life right now or if something is excessively painful, know that it will change (perhaps for the better, perhaps for the worse). In other words, treat great success and great failure as the imposters that they truly are, as was once uttered by the poet / writer Rudyard Kipling in his epic poem If. If (no pun intended) you have not read the poem, take a moment and do so now, you will not regret it. If— by Rudyard Kipling | Poetry Foundation

By now you are probably wondering why I am weaving a knowledge of History and its benefits with inexorable profound change that is such a challenging and perplexing part of life. Bear with me, I will most likely, be sharing something (perplexing) with you which you did not know. Also, there are useful lessons here to help one navigate this crazy world that we all share in the latter part of 2022 and beyond.

We have all seen the grainy black and white film of England under attack in the early years of World War II, absorbing the full force of Adolf’s Hitler’s Luftwaffe air raids (over London in particular) before and shortly after America entered the war after the bombing of Pearl Harbor by the Empire of Japan on December 7th, 1941. And, we all remember that they had a peculiar, yet commanding (Prime Minister) by the name of Winston Leonard Spencer Churchill who would emerge from the rubble and destruction (literally and figuratively) spitting fiery oratory that all but assured victory in the midst of a situation which, truth be told, was somewhat hopeless.* Words carry great power and Prime Minister Churchill knew how to wield them like Rembrandt knew how to wield a paintbrush and create beautiful images.  Churchill understood the situation was dire and yet optimism pervades his words. We know the end of the story (the good guys win), but to those in harm’s way in the early 40’s of the last century, it is not difficult to imagine the abject fear and uncertainty that many Brits must have felt.

 “We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender, and even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this Island or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our Empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the British Fleet, would carry on the struggle, until, in God’s good time, the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old.”

Winston Churchill had seen the lowest lows and the highest highs long before the hardships and ultimate glory he would experience as Prime Minister of England during WWII. Ever wonder how he got to that precise moment, equipped with a poise, and resolve that was seemingly preternatural? Me too.  

Born in 1874 of an aristocratic American mother and British father, Churchill joined the British Army at the tender age of 21 and would come to know war rather intimately. You might even go so far as to say he was weaned on war.** The British Empire was the most powerful country in the world during the time of Churchill’s youth (latter part of the 19^th century) and it was also a time of great imperialistic ventures around the globe as the great world powers looked to gain territories in an effort to gain power, control natural resources, and subjugate / uplift (depending on your perspective and year of birth) what were deemed as lesser people. Churchill and his generation believed the undeveloped world was a place to be carved up and improved by the influence of superior people who would ultimately improve the future for both the subjugators and subjugated. Through the lens of today such activity is looked upon as both racist and brutal; it was both at times, and yet it was the prevailing attitude of the day. To think otherwise would have been quite unusual. Opposition was scant at the time and many of the people employing the strategy genuinely thought they were making the world a better place by their actions. Many do not see it that way today but remember that the present will be viewed by future generations with the same unforgiving microscope. And there is much to glean about the present that may in fact seem incredulous by people of the future. Time will tell. Churchill was in places such as Cuba, India, and South Africa. He served as a soldier who saw real life and death combat and was once a prisoner of war and even made a daring escape. He also worked as a reporter and wrote detailed books recounting his experiences. He experienced more in these early years than most of us experience in a lifetime. This trend would continue unabated during the course of his life.

Ultimately Churchill would turn to politics (like his father and grandfather before him). Here too, he experienced a whirlwind of change and serendipitous occurrences. Though the British Parliamentary System is far different than our own, and it is quite difficult to view that system objectively through an apples-to-apples comparison to our own Representative Republic, similarities are common enough however, to make some informed observations. Churchill started out as a bit of a Liberal in his way of thinking and even championed such diverse ideologies as an opposition to woman’s suffrage and support for secular, nondenominational education. He rose through the ranks of the English political system and held a wide variety of posts and positions. Churchill was certainly not afraid to take on unpopular positions throughout his long political career. For example, during his time as member of The House of Commons in 1903, he opposed the economic protectionism of the Conservative Party with whom he was beginning to align. He considered himself a free-market champion and opposed economic manipulation by the government which would engineer rather than guide. Also, in 1904 he OPPOSED a bill that would limit Jewish immigration into Britain. He even opposed some big increases in military spending which he saw as unnecessary and frivolous at the time. He was a proponent of prison reform at a time when the term “prisoner rights” was an oxymoron. Suffice it to say that while Churchill was an increasingly political creature, he was also quite free spirited and open to the vagaries of a given situation and its dynamics as a determinant of opinion and personal stance. His famous quote on the path of “liberal” and “conservative” in one’s life serves as a great example of the complexity of the man.

“If you are not a Liberal when you are young, you have no heart, and if you are not a Conservative when old, you have no brain.” (Probably not the first person to say this but it has come to be associated to Churchill)

Churchill’s first big political moment of truth came when he was First Lord of the Admiralty in the early days of World War I. As a man of war and a man of independent thought and action, this appointment promised all the necessary ingredients for a man of his resume to succeed and flourish. Sometimes life has alternative, more humbling plans, and this was the case for Churchill as the infamous Gallipoli Campaign  Gallipoli Campaign | Summary, Map, Casualties, Significance, & Facts | Britannica turned out to be a complete failure, and Churchill as its architect, unsurprisingly took the blame. And this for me, is where the Churchill story becomes exceedingly interesting as his character seems to shine brightly in a time of great adversity. Great historical figures seem to share in this tendency; a person of greatness often has to fall / fail (sometimes numerous times) before the depth of their ultimate greatness can truly unfold. The stuff of legends so to speak. George Washington comes to mind as an American example of this characteristic.  

Churchill “resigns” from his post and rather than accept a lesser post that would land him far from harm’s way, he chooses to go to the front lines as an Army officer on the bloody Western Front. It is said that he narrowly escaped death when a large piece of shrapnel fell near him while he was commanding a unit. Take a moment and imagine an England facing Hitler without Winston Churchill. Hard to imagine yet, I would suggest that surrender as was the case with France, would have been a distinct possibility.

 Back in the House of Commons after his wartime experience, Churchill became a champion for the average soldier and called for common-sense reforms such as the need for steel helmets. Gallipoli would continue to shadow him however and inhibit, at least somewhat, his quest to recapture his previous upward trajectory. His next assignment as the Minister of Munitions (1917) helped him to gain an even greater understanding of the art of war and the lethal weapons that warring nations had at their disposal. He quickly developed a reputation as a bit of a problem solver. He was instrumental in increasing munition output, an invaluable attribute in time of war.

Churchill would continue along this path toward resurrecting his reputation. It is quite remarkable to read of the plethora of political appointments Churchill experienced along the way. Shortly after WWI, he became Secretary of State for War and Air and one of his main jobs was to demobilize the British Army though he was adamant about retaining a large peacetime force to counter the threat of the Soviet Union and future war in general. This seems reasonable in light of what we know was yet to come; however, many in power felt differently at the time. He also spoke out against implementing draconian measures against the newly defeated Germany. He was one of the few to do so as Germany was loathed by most for their leading role in the recent conflict. These very measures have been attributed by scholars as the primary reason that an Adolf Hitler was able to rise to prominence. Churchill seemed to have a sixth sense about these types of things.  In 1921 Churchill became Secretary of State for the Colonies. Remember, England had numerous colonies around the globe, particularly the Mideast. During his roughly twelve months at this post, both his mother and his young daughter Marigold died. Churchill was devasted by this and it was something that stayed with him for the rest of his life. It may have slowed him down a bit temporarily, but it certainly did not inhibit his ability to take on new challenges in the turbulent years to come.  Churchill once described success as “stumbling from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm.”

Churchill would actually find himself out of politics for a time as his party lost in the elections of November 1922 shortly after the birth of his fifth and last child Mary, and an unexpected surgery for appendicitis. In a classic Churchillian response, he would later write, that he was “without an office, without a seat, without a party, and without an appendix.” At that point he spent a little time painting and writing; he was very accomplished at both.  He finished the first volume of his autobiographical history of the war, entitled, The World Crisis. Over the next ten years he would finish the massive undertaking / project. Little did he know that an even greater world crisis loomed on the horizon. Perhaps he did at least sense that it was possible.  

Over the next several years, Churchill served as Chancellor of the Exchequer and continued to work for Conservative ideals and as a proponent of free market capitalism versus a growing rise of socialistic viewpoints that were beginning to take root in Europe in the post WWI years. Important to remember that the early 30’ became a period of great economic decline. The Great Depression in America 1929-1939 was not an America exclusive calamity; the whole world experienced dire economic times and for Europe, still recovering from the ravages of The Great War, the suffering was commensurately worse. Free market economies and their efficacy were being openly questioned by many. The NAZI party which gave rise to Adolf Hitler was a telling example (an acronym for the National SOCIALIST German Worker’s Party). An increasingly recalcitrant Germany, emerging from the ashes of WWI defeat began to insulate and reinvent itself (which included a huge military buildup) in response to worldwide Depression and the aforementioned tough economic sanctions / restrictions placed on them by the WWI victors. These conditions would ultimately usher in the next great chapter in the Winston Churchill story. This is the prelude that not many people understand to the degree that perhaps they should. Hitler was initially not viewed as the villain that many people now assume when they think of him. Consider the fact that Time Magazine named Adolf Hitler “Man of the Year” in 1938 and that the freshman class at Princeton University chose Hitler as “the greatest living person” in their annual poll in November of 1939. Albert Einstein (a professor at Princeton) finished second and Neville Chamberlin third. Hitler was seen by many as a man of great charisma and foresight.  Churchill, once again, had the right instincts from the beginning with respect to Hitler’s rise to power in Germany.

When Prime Minister Neville Chamberlin (our third-place finisher in the Princeton poll) signed the Munich Agreement with Germany in late September of 1938, which essentially allowed them to invade Czechoslovakia unchecked and annex the country, Churchill, an experienced soldier, and a man with a great sense of political acumen and courage, stepped forward and called the pact “a total and unmitigated defeat.” *** Flash forward to September of 1939 and England would declare war on Germany and the former Time Magazine “Man of The Year” Adolf Hitler (yes I am poking fun at the irony). Churchill who was concurrently named First Lord of the Admiralty (again), had been engaged in a campaign of anti-appeasement with German aggression for a couple years while Hitler had been steadily ramping up his bellicose intentions towards his European neighbors WHILE reawakening German pride and singing the praises of a supposed pure Ayrian race of superior lineage. Obviously relations between Chamberlin and Churchill had to have been strained yet both men knew that the times required cooperation rather than personal contention. Chamberlin would ultimately be viewed as a weak man (and quite frankly a bit of a joke) and Churchill a true lion of his times (and quite frankly a larger-than-life icon). History has a funny way of separating the wheat from the chaff——- once the narratives have been written. Churchill’s move was the largely unpopular, risky one at the time, while Chamberlin was seen as a great negotiator initially. There are times when security at any cost trumps liberty at a very defined cost. Fools’ gold that manages to shine brightly in the moment. But only in the moment…

Luckily for England and the world, Chamberlin’s star was falling, and Churchill’s was rising. Chamberlin would be forced to resign by circumstance (Munich Agreement) and some of the logistics of the early part of the war (German aggression). Churchill was the obvious choice for Prime Minister (1940); he later related that he felt a great sense of relief and contentment knowing that his entire life had prepared him for this profound moment in time. We can see this is undeniably true and yet, “watch what you wish for because you just might get it” as the old saying warns. For England, things would need to get worse before they could begin to get better. I feel fairly certain that Churchill realized this and proceeded accordingly. He grasped clearly that people in his country needed to see him as Warrior in Chief and they also needed to feel united in a cause that was greater than themselves, no small task. Interestingly, the war could have been essentially lost before it even really began if not for the truly miraculous evacuation of nearly 350,000 British soldiers from the beaches and harbor of Dunkirk in the North of France (late May / early June 1940) after they had essentially been surrounded by the German Army. Dunkirk evacuation – Wikipedia This was an evacuation that was greatly aided by British civilians! Churchill called it “a miracle of deliverance” but went on to warn that “we must be very careful to not assign to this deliverance the attributes of a victory. Wars are not won by evacuations.” He was in charge, the people knew it, and they also knew that he wasn’t ever going to sugarcoat the reality of their plight. The following excerpt from his famous “Blood, Toil, Sweat, and Tears” speech captures it perfectly.

“I would say to the House… that I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat. We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. You ask, what is our policy? I will say: it is to wage war, by sea, land, and air, with all our might and with all the strength that God can give us; to wage war against a monstrous tyranny, never surpassed in the dark, lamentable catalogue of human crime. That is our policy. You ask, what is our aim? I can answer in one word: it is victory, victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory, however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival.” Gives me chills every time I read it. ****

The Allied Forces would go on to soundly defeat the Axis Forces in what is quite easily the most important event in modern world history. Had the loose coalition of Germany, Japan, and Italy won that war, the world would be a very different place in 2022. Many have tried to imagine it, I prefer to not spend too much time worrying about it as it is far more enjoyable to feel pride and admiration for the sacrifices of so many which are appreciated by fewer and fewer as the years progress. It was an epic time that produced legendary leaders. None greater than Winston Churchill. What more could the guy have done? Rhetorical question of course, yet the aftermath of the war would prove to be challenging and baffling for Churchill as the political / social winds continued to blow across the bow of the fickle nature of human thought and behavior in the years following the great victory.

It is important to take a step back and remember that much of Europe was decimated by the calamity that was WWII. We tend to forget this because our soil was never invaded and was never a battleground with the exception of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in late 1941. Also, remember that America suffered virtually no civilian casualties while in Europe (and Asia for that matter) there were far more civilian than military losses. This kind of an experience has a way of marinading with the population for a long time and even markedly colors the way they view the immediate future, after having been indoctrinated into the “life is cheap” mindset.     Research Starters: Worldwide Deaths in World War II | The National WWII Museum | New Orleans (nationalww2museum.org) England lost 450,700 in The War of which 383,600 were combatants. Conversely, the United States lost 418,500 of which 416,800 were combatants. Suffice it to say England’s experience in the war was a great deal different that our own. If you really want to blow your mind as to the horrors of that war, take a look at some of the casualty totals associated with Russia, China, and Germany (note the civilian losses). As Union General William Tecumseh Sherman once quipped during the American Civil War, “War is all hell.” I think he may have actually underappreciated its awfulness.  

Churchill masterfully guided his country through a terrible war at a high cost, true evil was defeated, and he came out the other end as an icon of his time and a man that we all laud in much the same way which we revere George Washington and Abraham Lincoln. End of story… NOT SO FAST. What most people do not realize, and something that has fascinated me from the first time I heard it, is that Churchill and his party would be defeated in the election of 1945, ending Churchill’s tenure as Prime Minister. How is that even possible you might ask. Well, the answer is complicated and not completely understandable 77 years after it happened.

It seems that Churchill came to be labeled (after the war) as the perfect person to lead England through a time of war and perhaps not the best person to lead England through a time of peace. This determination is a bit nuanced, yet in some ways it is crystal clear. The Labour Party which was vying with Churchill’s Conservative Party in the election of 1945 understood that people have very short memories when it comes to political expediency. Europe and England wanted the kinds of things that people usually desire when they have experienced something tragic, traumatic, and life altering. It can become very easy to trade freedom for security and selfless nationalistic determination for individual self-interest.  Churchill and his party were talking about making the tough decisions with respect to postwar economic realities while the Labour Party was offering ideas such as “cradle to grave” health care and nebulous “worker’s rights” promises. After years of sacrifice, both emotional and economic, a call for additional restraint was certainly a tough sell. Churchill, though obviously wildly popular, was a reminder of a painful though recent past, while the opposing party had fresh, exciting new ideas for the future. When platitudinal change is in the air, the past can carry an aroma that is stale and unappealing. This seems to be the setting which created an environment whereby a man of Churchill’s stature and accomplishments could become expendable. Nothing short of remarkable to my way of thinking.

And yet, isn’t it also true that we can see this phenomenon in our own lives and times as well. The phrase “what have you done for me lately” captures the fleeting nature of adoration and appreciation. Whom among us hasn’t lost touch with a good friend who was once a very important part of our life? Someone that you went to war with (at least figuratively, but perhaps literally). Whom among us can’t look back on a romantic relationship that had all the markings of a life-long bond that ended, and perhaps painfully. Have you ever looked back on older pictures of celebrities who were on top of the world, only to realize that the world barely thinks of that person now? They might be dead, they might be old, or they may have experienced only fleeting fame. What about that person in your life who did something incredibly kind and or generous for you, which you rarely even think about now. Either you take them for granted or you have moved on to different circumstances in your life. I could go on and on; suffice it to say that we all have our “mini post WWII Churchill stories” to tell. It is a human thing to be fickle and often self-serving with our affections, bonds, loyalties, and gratitude.

Churchill, it can be argued, saved a country and in so doing, may have saved the world. Even this did not guarantee further gratitude as expressed with another term as Prime Minister. He was BELOVED but he wasn’t irreplaceable. We can learn a great deal from this however. History would suggest that glory can be fleeting and the pedestals of yesterday can easily become the paved over fields of today. Especially, when personal wants and perceived needs supersede. The people wanted what they wanted (freebies), when they wanted it (now), and the intoxication of those immediate desires, allowed them to see Churchill as they wanted to see him rather than how they should have seen him had they dissected the situation with logic rather than emotion. At least this is how I see it. Obviously there are many alternative viewpoints I would presume. Churchill, unsurprisingly, hung around and held to his point of view as a leader of the opposition (minority party) and fittingly was reelected Prime Minister in 1951. ***** Churchill died on January 24^th, 1965, on the seventieth anniversary of his father’s death. A giant among 20^th century historical figures who will always carry that interesting and perplexing footnote about being booted from power in 1945, after his destiny defining, herculean role in WWII.  

Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring.

Proverbs 27:1

TMC

11/22/22 (birthday of my grandmother Lina- the driving force behind my love of History) Written in her memory.

“Suicide is Painless” may not ring a bell with you initially, yet if you were alive and kicking during the heyday of the television show M*A*S*H, the instrumental version of this song is probably quite familiar to you. I fact, many viewers never realized the distinctly melancholy song even had lyrics, The song served as the introduction to the familiar television series which ran from September of 1972 to February of 1983. The CBS series AND musical introduction were inspired by the 1970 movie of the same name. It was in fact the third highest grossing movie of the year 1970 (right behind Love Story and Airport and just ahead of Patton) and has gone on to be regarded as one of the most influential films of that decade.

The Vietnam war was in full swing at the time, so it is noteworthy that a comedy / drama about The Korean War (1950-1953) gained such notoriety. Attitudes toward war were clearly changing and these artistic interpretations (movie and television series) reflect that change. The television show went on to become a cultural icon which survived various iterations and the creation of 256 episodes. In fact, its last episode garnered just under 106 million viewers! No other television finale has even come close to matching that number. * And it remains the most watched non-Superbowl broadcast of all-time to this day.

• “Cheers”: 80.4 million on NBC in 1993.
• “Seinfeld”: 76.3 million on NBC in 1998.
• “Friends”: 52.5 million on NBC in 2004.

Clearly M*A*S*H struck a chord with viewers. It was a simpler time with less entertainment choice, the internet and social media were still several years away. There was a zeitgeist of anti-authority and this show questioned authority with plenty of humor and the backdrop of war. It was a masterful combination of the two unlikely bedfellows, and it worked in a way that could NEVER be duplicated today. This is a loss which is sorely missed as we were able to laugh and cry together at the foibles of life under the harshest of conditions, war. Compare and contrast that with today and the polarization that exists. M*A*S*H was something that most people truly liked, and it was a bonding experience to discuss the latest episode with family and friends, hard to imagine from the lens of 2022.   

For those too young to remember any of this, it is important to establish a few facts. The movie M*A*S*H was inspired by a book of the same name written in 1968 by Richard Hooker. Ring Lardner Jr. then created a script based on the book. The book tells the story of a group of irreverent, non-military, free spirited doctors serving in a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital unit (4077) on the front lines of the Korean War. The script was turned down by many other directors before 45-year-old Robert Altman agreed to take on the project. The movie went on to great success as mentioned. Interestingly, Altman was a WWII veteran who was a co-pilot on a B-24 bomber; he knew war firsthand, and this added to the realism. In addition to M*A*S*H (1970), Altman also directed several other critically acclaimed films including The Long Goodbye (1973), Nashville (1975), Short Cuts (1993), and Gosford Park (2001). He died in 2006 in Los Angeles, CA at the age of 81.

Perhaps you are curious as to why I mentioned the M*A*S*H theme song leading up to this short history. It turns out, the theme song is one of the more interesting footnotes to the whole story. For somewhat cryptic reasons, Altman wanted the theme song (for the movie) to be a nonsensical song entitled “Suicide is Painless.” In the movie, the camp’s dentist declares his wish to commit suicide, though his tentmates don’t believe him and even parody the thought with song. Perhaps it also had something to do with the pandemonium of war and the unlikely characters who serve as the focal point of the story which manage to conflate comedy with drama. There is no heavier drama than war and yet both seem to work together in the telling of the story. Altman’s only stipulation at the time was that it had to be the “stupidest song ever written.” All very curious and in large part speculation on my part…

Altman hired Johnny Mandel to write the music and then took a crack a the lyrics himself. Failing to come up with anything “stupid enough” for his liking, he turned to his 14-year-old son, who managed to pen the lyrics in five minutes. Years later Altman said that he made $70,000 for directing the film while his son Michael made over $1 million in royalties for his role in the creation of “Suicide is Painless.”

Through early morning fog I see
Visions of the things to be
The pains that are withheld for me
I realize, and I can see

That suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it
If I please

The game of life is hard to play
I’m gonna lose it anyway
The losing card I’ll someday lay
So this is all I have to say

Suicide is painless (suicide)
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it
If I please

The sword of time will pierce our skins
It doesn’t hurt when it begins
But as it works its way on in
The pain grows stronger, watch it grin

Suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it
If I please

A brave man once requested me
To answer questions that are key
“Is it to be or not to be?”
And I replied, “Oh, why ask me?”

Suicide is painless
It brings on many changes
And I can take or leave it
If I please

And you can do the same thing
If you please

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: J. Mandel / M. Altman

Suicide Is Painless (Main Title) lyrics © Wb Music Corp.

Tough to read those words without humming the tune???

TMC 4/20/22

The inspiration for this writing came from a recent conversation with my oldest sister Amy. We were reminiscing about the plays we attended with our grandmother on my father’s side when we were kids. As to our exact ages, I cannot recall, I only remember that we didn’t exactly enjoy it at the time. Looking back on the cusp of 60 and in Amy’s case, the cusp has been breached, we laughingly voiced our belated appreciation for the attempts made by our grandmother Ruth to expose us to and instill some semblance of culture into our young minds. I remember that we attended several plays, yet the only one that stands out in my mind (for some unknown reason) is Little Women. For the life of me, I cannot tell you what it was / is about as I have never read the book and my attention during the performance was something less than stellar. Having said that, Louisa May Alcott is a giant in American literature, so I know the name and have a basic understanding of the style; I do intend to read the book at some point. Wikipedia has this to say about it.

“The novel has been said to address three major themes: domesticity, work, and true love, all of them independent and each necessary to the achievement of its heroine’s individual identity. According to Sarah Elbert, Alcott created a new form of literature, one that took elements from romantic children’s fiction and combined it with others from sentimental novels creating a totally new genre. Elbert argues that within ‘Little Women’ can be found the first vision of the “All American girl” …”   (I’m guessing you can feel my pain as a 1970’s adolescent male trying to wrap my brain around this and still be considered “groovy” and “far out”).

Perhaps more important to the 2022 version of me, Louisa May Alcott serves as a wonderful example of how the years progress and yet the human tendencies remain. The path that led Alcott to write Little Women is similar to the path that many successful people take in life. They succeed in spite of circumstance and in spite of PASSION’s attempt to lead them down very different paths. Passion rarely seems to pay the bills then, as it rarely does now. Yes, there are some people for whom the stars seem to align, they do what they love, and the monetary rewards follow accordingly. I would suggest that this is rare and the examples I provide seem to bear this out.

Louisa May Alcott, born in Pennsylvania in 1832 and was the 2^nd of four daughters, born of dreamers. Her father Bronson seems to have been a quintessential liberal before the term was ever envisioned and used as it is today. He was an inveterate idealist in the truest sense of the word. He founded and ran experimental schools, started a community that ate a vegan diet, refused to use animal labor, and eschewed the use of cotton due to a rejection of slavery. His communal leanings, however, were complete and utter failures, and the family constantly struggled financially. Family friends included the likes of Henry David Thoreau, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Ralph Waldo Emerson. The family was well educated, socially connected, on the cutting edge of high-minded ideals (transcendentalists), and unfortunately had accrued little monetarily to show for it.  Young Louisa May was forced to work at an early age to help the family make ends meet.

Alcott was an ardent abolitionist and feminist by all accounts at the time of the outbreak of the Civil War in 1861. Both characteristics were amazingly uncommon despite revisionist history that suggests otherwise. She volunteered as a nurse (1862-1863) at the Union Army Hospital in Georgetown D.C. Though she had rarely been ill in her life up to this point, after six weeks she contracted typhoid pneumonia and nearly died. After a difficult recovery, she remained sickly for the rest of her life. The war, and her experiences as a nurse seemed to inspire her literary leanings. In 1863 she published Hospital Sketches which, though not a commercial success, seemed to point the way for her, out of the impoverished lifestyle she had known heretofore.

This is where it gets really strange for me. The future author of Little Women (1868) which has been credited with the creation by some biographers as the genesis of the “All American girl” began to focus on her passion as a writer. She begins (under a pseudonym) to write lurid stories of revenge, sex, opium addiction, and cross-dressing under a style which she described as “blood and thunder”. A Long Fatal Love Chase and Pauline’s Passion and Punishment were two of her best known. She loved the category, but once again the financial rewards were scant at best.

It was only after she was encouraged by her publisher to try her hand at concentrating on stories from her own life and writing a story for girls, that her luck changed. She wrote the following in her journal in response to her publisher’s desire for an about-face.

“Mr. N wants a girl’s story, and I begin ‘Little Women.’ Marmee, Anna, and May (her sisters) all approve my plan. So, I plod away, though I don’t enjoy this sort of thing. Never liked girls or knew many, except my sisters; but our queer plays and experiences may prove interesting, though I doubt it.”

I find this correspondence astonishing in light of the fact that Alcott went on to create something that has taken on an iconic stature as an expose’ into the inner world of 19^th century virtuous girlhood that has included sequels, multiple stage productions, and movies. She wanted to follow her passion and write smut, instead she reluctantly took on a project for which she had no heartfelt attachment and created an American classic. In her lifetime, Alcott made enough money to pull her entire family out of poverty and provided them with the comfortable life they never had. Interestingly, Alcott remained single throughout her life and had this to say when asked about her spinster lifestyle.

“I am more than half-persuaded that I am a man’s soul put by some freak of nature into a woman’s body…. because I have fallen in love with so many pretty girls and never once the least bit with any man.”

Not sure how all of this happened the way that it did. It truly makes no sense; so much for following your passion and being true to who you are. Sitting in that theater in San Diego all those years ago, I had no idea as to the utter incongruent, twisted, complexity of what I was watching. Had I known, I might have been a bit more attentive. “Groovy” and “Far Out” were far closer than I could have imagined.  

Reminiscing further on my younger years, I can remember the days before countless cable channels, the internet, podcasts, and the like. We used to have relatively few choices and we turned to something called The TV Guide to see what was on the few channels we had to choose from. Everyone watched the same few channels and predominantly similar shows; favorite television shows became social bonding mediums and companions in a sense. I recall more than once that I couldn’t resist the charms of Little House on The Prairie. Not necessarily a choice you would share with friends (we all considered ourselves hip and cutting edge of course) as it was wholesome and a bit old fashioned. Nevertheless, the program enjoyed tremendous success and ran for several seasons (1974-1982). It had sequels and spin offs, yet these were the golden years. The series was based on a series of books by Laura Ingalls Wilder (1935 the beginning) and depicted growing up in the Midwest in the late 1800’s. She began writing Little House in the Big Woods and several other similar books in her 60’s. All of this sounds quite commonplace and homespun in a red, white, and blue Americana way. Not so fast, just like with Louisa May Alcott, things start to get a bit strange.

The Wilders, Laura, and husband Almanzo struggled mightily on the prairies of Dakota Territory in the late 19^th century. They struggled with crop failure, crippling debt, harsh weather, fire, and disease. A fire burned down their home at one point and at another low ebb, Almanzo was so incapacitated by diphtheria that he suffered a stroke. Rose Wilder Lane was born in what is now South Dakota in 1886 and the family eventually settled in the Ozarks. Rose hated her family’s existence and felt humiliated by having to ride a donkey barefoot to school among other indignities of her hard-scrabble life.

Rose Wilder went on to live a rather fast-paced, interesting, and cosmopolitan life as she relished her ultimate escape from the austere pioneer experiences of her youth. She worked as a telegrapher, taught herself several languages, read voraciously, and became a writer. She also married and divorced within several years (which included separations from time to time until the actual divorce). By all accounts, her marriage (1909-1918)) to jack of many trades salesman/ promoter Claire Gilbert Lane was tumultuous from the beginning and it has been suggested that she even attempted suicide and considered herself bipolar. We do know that she experienced a miscarriage soon after the marriage while in Salt Lake City, Utah.  She lived in San Francisco, Paris, New York, Berlin, and Albania. In short, her life became the epitome of everything diametrically opposed to the life she had known as a young girl. From the slow lane to the fast lane in the blink of an eye.  

For the most part she made her living as a writer. She wrote firsthand accounts of the lives of famous people such as Henry Ford, Charles Chaplin, Herbert Hoover, and Jack London. She was known for dramatizing the facts a bit if it made for a better story; her famous subjects were often quite unhappy with her fabrications / embellishments. Nevertheless, Rose Wilder Lane became one of the highest paid female writers in America at that time. Known to be quite the lavish spender on travel and other extravagances, she spent the vast majority of what she earned (sometimes she simply gave it away). This included the building of a new fancy home and purchasing a car for her still self-sacrificing and frugal parents. They were against it, yet Rose Wilder Lane insisted. They disliked the house and Almanzo crashed the car soon after getting it.

In 1928, at age 46, Rose Wilder moved back to the family farm; divorced, childless, emotionally subject to bouts of depression, but confident in her writing career and the stock market investments she had made over the years of her prolific literary career. She had even convinced her parents to also invest. The Great Market Crash of October 1929 and subsequent Great Depression were right around the corner and times became quite difficult just as they had become reunited. Everything changed in 1930 when Laura Ingles Wilder presented her daughter with a rough, autobiographical manuscript of her life on the prairie as a young girl. Rose Wilder took one look at Pioneer Girl and apparently saw the potential. Interestingly, much like Louisa May Alcott and her early writing, the story was targeting an adult audience and publishers wanted her to rewrite it as children’s book. Her daughter knew a thing or two about spicing up a story to make it more interesting. In a letter to her mother, she mentioned the rewriting / editing process. “A good deal of the detail that I add to your copy is for pure sensory effect.” Wilder responded in kind. “Do anything you please with the damn stuff if you will fix it up.” An astonishing exchange that suggests that real life and “real life” may have been worlds apart. No one really knows for sure how much Lane altered the original writing of her mother. When they were working on By the Shores of Silverlake (1939), Wilder wrote to her daughter and mentioned that the books would have been “a flop” without “your fine touch.”

The fabulous irony of the unlikely collaboration is that Rose Wilder Lane did everything she could to escape the world of her youth, only to find out that the grass isn’t always greener (in spite of her seemingly successful accomplishments). And finally, she essentially enables the creation of the Little House books that went on to great commercial success and acclaim. Lane detested that world, yet she embraced it, and enlivened it, in order to monetize it. In so doing, she played a huge role in creating a beloved classic brand that is, like Little Women, a part of our American literary persona.

Charles Dicken’s provides another example of the extraordinary circumstances that can lead one to fame and fortune. Dickens was born in Portsmouth, England (1812); the author of such classics as The Adventures of Oliver Twist (1837-1839), The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby (1838-1839), A Christmas Carol (1843), David Copperfield (1849-1850), and A Tale of Two Cities (1859) certainly struggled through a difficult, if not downright appalling childhood. His father was incarcerated in a debtor’s prison when young Charles was 12 years old. Dickens was forced to leave school (though he later returned but remained bitter about his lost childhood for the rest of his life), and work in a factory under miserable conditions. He certainly could have become a causality of the conditions and circumstances that governed his formative years. Much like Louisa May Alcott, and Rose Wilder Lane, his early childhood experiences instead seemed to spur him on to something greater. Somehow, hardship enabled the genius of their work. Also, like the two aforementioned women, he had a talent for the written word, and most likely Dickens saw writing as a strategy to distance himself financially from the psychological scars of what those early years must engendered in him. His personal story also veers off into the head-scratchingly strange and implausible, which we have explored with Alcott and Lane. Their circumstances though all very different, certainly share the characteristic of childhood interrupted, perpetual indigence, and the harsh realities of 19^th century life introduced well before the optimal timing. Especially from the perspective of 2022 American youth as there were no safe spaces and being offended didn’t count for much. Offense was standard operating procedure.  

Dickens would go on to become a popular and highly successful writer. In fact, he became the most famous celebrity of his era. He singlehandedly created a style of story- telling which has become known as “Dickensian” which would come to be associated with poor working conditions, overcoming a difficult life, and repulsive characters which serve as foils for the “heroes” of his stories. At the height of his fame and fortune his father came looking for money. Dickens wrote the following to a friend.

“I was amazed and confounded by the audacity of his ingratitude. He and all of them, look upon me as a something to be plucked and torn to pieces for their advantage. They have no idea of, and no care for my existence in any other light. My soul sickens at the thought of them.”

Bear in mind that Dickens, by age 45 had been married for over 20 years and had 10 children with his wife Catherine. His marriage became a victim of his success apparently as he fell in love with an 18-year-old actress (Ellen Ternan) who was part of the cast of a play entitled The Frozen Deep, which he cowrote with his friend Wilkie Collins. His growing frustration with the domestic life and his rather large brood can be seen in another letter in which he felt he deserved credit “for having brought up the largest family ever known, with the smallest disposition to do anything for themselves.” Ternan seems to have offered escape and excitement in a world that was suffocating to him. Divorce was a frowned upon option in those days, and his break with Catherine came to be known as an “amicable separation.” His affair with Ternan lasted for the rest of his life though he was very careful about keeping her out of the public eye as the optics would have been challenging to his career ambitions.

Suffice it so say that his private life was a bit of a mess at the same time that his celebrity and renown seemed to be soaring. He seems to have been a casualty of his success and the drive that led him to work tirelessly on his craft. That drive appears to have come from the insecurity and depravity of his early years and all the subsequent resentment that went along with it. He was apparently incapable of enjoying the fruits of his success, and there was always another opportunity to promote himself to greater heights of fame in spite of the cost to his health, both mental and physical. In many ways, Dickens may have been the first celebrity “entertainer” whose lifestyle led directly to his demise.  

Near the end of his life, Dickens toured more and wrote less. His one man shows included dramatic lighting, a maroon curtain, a red reading stand, and multiple character reenactments with numerous voice changes (male and female). One of his most popular reenactments was a murder scene from his novel Oliver Twist which the included shrieking and screaming of the female victim. It was said that his heart rate skyrocketed when performing this particular scene. He ultimately suffered a series of small strokes, experienced paralysis, and was unable to eat solid foods. Nevertheless, the tours were wildly popular, and it was said that audience members were subject to crying and fainting. Who knows if that is true, but it speaks of the visceral experience he evoked.  His doctors finally put an end to the tours after his last one in which he performed 76 times in American cities. Dickens went back to work on another novel, The Mystery of Edwin Drood, but died of a cerebral hemorrhage at 58 before he could finish it, less than three months after his final stage performance.  

I had imagined idyllic lives for the authors of these three classic literary figures. I am not sure as to why I would assume this. F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemmingway, and Mark Twain (just to name a few) all point to the pain and suffering that often inspire great writing. Little Women, Little House in the Big Woods, and A Christmas Carol somehow seemed to be the work of people immune from the typical angst and inner turmoil. I suppose it is easy to forget that these authors were flawed people who used their respective personal experiences to assuage the slings and arrows of highly imperfect lives. Alcott would have rather written about a seedier side of life, yet she pivoted and prospered, Wilder Lane helped her mother to polish and essentially change that which she seemingly detested and snatched commercial fame and fortune in a most unlikely way, and Dickens, a damaged man, due to the trauma of his youth, found a way to utilize his extraordinary talents in a way which at least partially, exorcised the demons. He became a celebrated author and international celebrity in the process. Though none of this fits into a neat package, and perhaps that is the point (it rarely works that way it), their work speaks for itself, and it has survived the test of time. How it got to us is less important than the fact that it did? The answer to that question is open to debate for sure.  

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.”

Charles Dickens

Tale of Two Cities

TMC 4/1/22

In my writing you will most assuredly note my discontent and disappointment with the fact that most people (especially younger people) do not know their history (“their” as in personal AND on a grander scale). I suppose it would be important to first note the collective apathy associated with History these days as a qualifier to this lack of knowledge.  I feel this is a fairly recent phenomenon, as I do believe that our not-so-distant American ancestors celebrated our past and attempted to understand it in a manner which is now seen by far too many as misguided white-centric / male-centric story telling which masks a sinister tale. The word History itself somewhat reveals that plotline (His. Story.) for better or worse. On the other hand, our country is often referred to as her; all semantics for the most part as I see it. Evaluating the past by the utopian standards of the present is a potential thought boomerang that will eventually impugn the present. Interesting to think about as we consider some of our current values and habits.

This disinterest is a real shame, and it will become the genesis for an entire generation of naïve / groundless people who WILL in turn pass on this ignorance to future generations. When you lose touch with your national story, you lose touch with yourself, when you lose touch with yourself, you create no legacy for those who come later. Sooner or later, national pride is eroded and lost. This is a fatal flaw which is not easily corrected. We are engaged in that intellectual digression currently. There are far too many who see America as a bad, tainted country and they desire to make their reality a universal reality. I wholeheartedly beg to differ.  

 Our American story is a good, perhaps great story; it is not however, a perfect story. No country and no civilization have a perfect story. History is often messy, bloody, cruel, and unfair; the story of America is no different. Be that as it may, our path from inconsequential English colony to the most powerful country the world has ever known is worth knowing on a level beyond the silly hyperbole that now impacts our national identity to a noticeable degree.

I can site several examples of instances when something akin to divine conclusion played a role in moving America forward (sometime directly and sometimes quite indirectly). A slightly different outcome, had circumstances been altered only a little, could have threatened the status quo as we know it. Perhaps in small ways only, but perhaps in far more significant ways that are beyond our ability to extrapolate and imagine. Consider the following examples, give it some thought, and ponder these “divine conclusions” which are such important, yet common aspects of historical study. Sometimes the inexplicable happens, and this is difficult to comprehend and evaluate. Yet it is important that we attempt to do both.

Most everyone has heard of Lewis and Clark and their iconic expedition into parts unknown. The standard story is one of exploration and discovery into the then largely mysterious interior of North America or known then as the Louisiana Purchase Territory (1803-1806), championed by our third President Thomas Jefferson; their journey ultimately opened the door for an expansion of this country from the then populated Atlantic to the sparsely populated Pacific and all points in between. This land in the middle, especially at that time, was a complete unknown to all but a few intrepid trappers and traders (and of course the many indigenous tribes who called it home).

 Most everyone probably also knows that they were accompanied on the journey by a young Indian woman, Sacagawea*** who was the “wife” of one of the main interpreters for the Corp of Discovery (52 strong), as they were known. Sacagawea has become a larger-than-life figure in recent years, as she is seen as the guide who leads the Lewis and Clark expedition through parts unknown and dangers unanticipated, on a successful journey to the Pacific Ocean and back. That story has lost a little luster of late as it is not much of a stretch to consider The Bird Woman as an accomplice in the crime of stealing the land from the various Indian people. Revisionist history that I am in turn compelled to revise a bit myself.

Before I get on with the inexplicable part of the story, allow me to first clarify some of the details and separate some of the fact from fiction / myth. Sacagawea was the wife of French-Canadien trapper Toussiant Charbonneau. He most likely attained a spot on the coveted roster because his teenage wife was Shoshoni and fluent in their language. She also spoke a little Hidatsa as she had been a captive of the Hidatsa since approximately 1800. She and a small band of Shoshoni had been attacked somewhere in Montana (near present day Great Falls) by the Hidatsa. Most were killed (men, women, and children), while Sacagawea, a few other young women, and four boys were taken captive. Being taken captive was not a pleasant thing as one might imagine. Charbonneau won her in a wager back at the main Hidatsa village in North Dakota. Not exactly a romantic love story by any stretch of the imagination but a change of fortune for the teenager which most likely seemed a much better fate than captivity with her tribe’s enemies and the possibilities this entailed, not that she had a choice in the matter.

Lewis and Clark entered a world of continual warfare and struggle as they traversed the interior of this country. The native tribes they encountered heard a new message from these white strangers telling them that the land was theirs now (the Americans) and that they needed to stop fighting with one another and look forward to trading (mostly animal furs) with their new masters. It must have been an astonishing moment for them. These strangers had peculiar ways, impressive weapons, iron implements, and what must have seemed incredible arrogance. Not difficult to deduce however, that these were a powerful people and the native people lived in a world in which power reigned supreme.

 The most powerful tribes had the best land for hunting, the most horses, access to water, and in turn the best chance for survival in general. These benefits were often won by blood. The pecking order was maintained by constant warfare, strategic alliances, opportunistic trade, wealth in horses, and a variety of factors that favored the few. The militarily superior had the best cards on the table, while the least powerful militarily had to exist on the fringes. It was The Garden of Eden for the Corp of Discovery, yet it was also a land embroiled in complex hierarchical struggles and periodic, no quarter, violence. So much for the peaceful, children of nature that romantic writers such of Rosseau sought to celebrate. If this ideal ever existed, it certainly wasn’t in the Great Plains of North America in the early 19^th century. Rousseau and the Noble Savage – Culture/Nature (ncsu.edu)

As Lewis and Clark make their way through the country they are amazed by all that they see. Sacagawea is seeing much of this land for the first time as well. She proves to be a valuable member of the expedition, and amazingly even births a baby in route (birthed by Lewis amazingly). The expedition faces a real moment of crisis when they realize there is not an all-water navigable route to the west coast and that those mountains in and around the Continental Divide are much more daunting and formidable than they had ever dared to contemplate. The Bitterroots lie ahead and there is no way they are going to cross them without horses to carry their supplies through the difficult mountain passes. Even if they can somehow procure horses, it is getting late in the summer season (1805) and soon snow will block those passes until the spring thaw of 1806. For the expedition this is not an option they can choose, time is of the essence as they are not provisioned for such a delay. Find horses now or there is no historic Lewis and Clark expedition that becomes a part of our national legacy. It would have ended its westward probe then and there most likely. What happens next is nothing short of remarkable in the annuals of U.S. History. The historian Dayton Duncan described it as such.

“Coincidence that would strain credulity in a fictional account.”

 After much difficulty in locating and communicating with the Shoshoni people of the area, tenuous contact is finally made. These people obviously speak Shoshoni, are distrustful and fearful of their neighbors near and far, and basically live a life of abundant caution (they are not one of the powerful few). The mountainous area they have chosen to live is a direct consequence of that caution. Though curious about these white people who are now among them, trust is a much larger hurdle to overcome. Truthfully, it would have been just as easy to kill them and take all of their useful stuff (such as guns, and iron tools). The Shoshoni are no strangers to sudden and opportunistic violence, it is in fact the norm for them and most of the Indian tribes they encounter along the way, as alluded to by Lewis and Clark in their journals. The members of the Lewis and Clark expedition are also men of the frontier and not unacquainted with sudden hostilities. A truly explosive combination to be sure.  

Instead, it just so happens that Sacagawea is the sister of Cameawhait, who is the leader of this band of Shoshoni. Strangely, it takes them a bit of time to cross paths after contact with the Shoshoni, as Sacagawea is merely the wife of Charbonneau and not one of the party’s decision makers.  This uncanny reunion proves to be an immediate mitigator of the tension which unsurprisingly existed between the two groups. As a result, Lewis and Clark are able to procure the horses they need (in fact must have) to continue their journey (late August 1805). Sacagawea’s Shoshoni language also proved to be a large help in facilitating translation between the two parties.

As mentioned, I feel it is fair to say that Lewis and Clark’s journey may have in fact ended in the foothills and mountains of Idaho / Montana if this teenage girl had not been a member of the Corp of Discovery. The history of the West would have looked much different, had this simple act of getting horses to pack their supplies not occurred. One could argue that it would have merely delayed what ultimately occurred. Who knows. Other European powers were eying western North America at the time and the first foothold is often the best foothold. If not for Sacagawea, the first foothold may or may not have occurred. It certainly would have come to pass differently, perhaps much differently.

World War II (1941-1945 for America) is considered the seminal event of the 20^th century by most historians and for good reason. Had the Germans, Japanese, and Italian coalition triumphed in this epic worldwide struggle, it is quite difficult and a bit frightening to fathom the direction the world would have subsequently taken. Suffice it to say, the world would have looked quite different, and the concept of a free, self-governed society would have simply vanished, at least for a while. There were several major turning points in the war which ended up going in the favor of the Allies and these swings of fortune didn’t necessarily come about as the result of superior forces, strategy, leadership, or bravery, although all of those intangibles played a significant role.  What turned the tide, and won the day, in these examples, can be credited in large part to the vicissitudes of, you guessed it, the weather!

When most of us hear the term Pearl Harbor, we immediately see images in our mind’s eye of the devastating surprise attack by the Japanese on Sunday morning, December 7^th, 1941. We can literally see the black and white images of smoking battleships and destroyers devastated by the Japanese pilots in two deadly waves which cost the lives of 2,403 American servicemen and the destruction / damage of much of the Pacific Fleet. These images have been shown many times over the years and most of us know that Pearl Harbor ushered America’s entrance into the war. What many perhaps don’t realize, the nascent Axis Powers war machine had been at full throttle since the latter part of the 1930’s. Germany was sweeping through Europe and Japan was doing the same in East Asia. It was a scary, dire moment in time for America, as well as much of the world that stood in the path of this devastation either directly or indirectly. The world had been further shocked when in August of 1939, Germany and Russia signed the German-Soviet nonaggression pact, promising to remain at peace with one another for the next ten years.

There had been hope that Russia would decide to join the Allies (although technically America wasn’t a participant yet) and create a second front for the Nazis and their Italian allies to defend. When France falls to Germany in late June of 1940 with only minimal resistance, things are looking pretty grim for Western Europe. America’s entry into World War II on the heels of Pearl Harbor in 1941 provides the first glimmer of hope for a beleaguered England which is virtually standing alone against the onslaught of the Nazi war machine. It was at this moment that Hitler makes a fateful decision to turn on Josef Stalin and the Soviet Union (in violation of the recent treaty) and broaden the scope of its world domination ambitions. Treacherously, they take an unprepared Soviet Union completely by surprise. Hitler believes they can sweep through Moscow and take the capitol just as they had crushed all who had previously stood in their way. In the late summer of 1941, the German Army sweeps across the Soviet Union so confident in their ability to finish the job, and finish it quickly, they even fail to include winter provisions. An astonishing blunder born of pride and arrogance; nevertheless, they nearly pull it off.

What their hubris failed to anticipate was the stubbornness of the Russian people and the unpredictability of the weather, with the latter being the most integral part of the massive change of fortune that was about to occur. Funny things sometimes happen when victory is all but assured. The German relentless war machine would learn this the hard way. If they had been able to take Moscow and ultimately defeat the Soviet Union, the complexion of the war would have looked much different virtually overnight. It would have provided a treasure trove of supplies, natural resources such as oil, and allowed the Germans the ability to fight the war on one front. Importantly, it would have freed up hundreds of thousands of soldiers to concentrate on Western Europe. I’m not sure the war would have been winnable for the Allies had the Soviet Union capitulated at that time. And they came oh so close.

Historians use 60 million as an estimate for total war deaths (civilian and military) during the course of World War II. A shocking, truly unfathomable number which most people unfortunately fail to realize (and this doesn’t include the many injured of course). Consider the fact the Soviet Union lost an estimated 24 million (more than half were civilians)!!! By way of comparison, the United States lost 418,500 and yet it was a time in which many Americans of the period knew someone killed in the war. It was a time of great grief and mourning across the globe, yet no single country comes close to the loss of life experienced by the Soviet Union. The Germans threw everything they had at Stalin and the Red Army as they knew the war was lost if their big gamble proved unsuccessful. In case you are interested, Germany lost approximately 8 million citizens. Research Starters: Worldwide Deaths in World War II | The National WWII Museum | New Orleans (nationalww2museum.org)

Back to the fall and winter of 1941… Just as victory seemed all but assured, the Forces of Nature had other plans in mind. First came the rains and the mud. German tanks become paralyzed in lakes of muck and were unable to advance; the mud was six feet deep in some spots. And yet the Germans pressed on knowing the winter was coming and that they were not provisioned to face it (think Lewis and Clark and the Bitterroots). What they didn’t expect nor anticipate was a winter for the ages which would inflict pain and suffering befitting the brutality and treachery of their actions and intentions. Temperatures fell to -40 below in some places. Tanks and equipment were frozen in place, and many became inoperable in those places where they could move. Soldiers froze and died in the elements, and countless weather induced delays afforded the Soviet soldiers with enough time to call up reinforcements and entrench, a perfect storm of futility from the perspective of the German Army. And this weather induced failure, at precisely the right time, just might have saved the free world.

 The Germans would regroup and attempt to defeat the Soviets in subsequent years (with more utterly horrific loss of life on both sides), yet they never came as close as they did outside of Moscow in late 1941. Interestingly, at the end of the war, there are pictures of smiling German soldiers surrendering to American soldiers knowing that capture by Soviet forces was essentially a death sentence or worse. **** 1945 was a long way off in the winter of 1941, there was much fighting to do and many lives to be lost before proverbial light at the end of the tunnel began to appear.

The successful D Day invasion*** in early June of 1944 certainly wasn’t the end in any formal sense. It can be argued however that it was clearly, the accelerated beginning of the end for Germany. Without the aid of our good friend Mother Nature (once again), this risky move to liberate France could have easily ended in disaster and delayed the end of the war by several years. The Germans knew they were coming, what they didn’t know was when and where. What they also didn’t know, the British and Americans had far better meteorologists than they did. Moreover, they didn’t appreciate the ability of mere weather to surprise and for lack of a better word, “help” the Allies accomplish a modicum of surprise in what was one of the most obvious offensives of the war. This has a familiar ring when you remember the winter of 1941 on the road to Moscow. The Nazis knew they were coming and under normal circumstances would have been quite ready for them, aided by the reliability of the “high ground” (a soldier’s best friend) and a natural defensive topography that bordered on impregnable. Anyone who has seen The Longest Day and Saving Private Ryan has more than a little understanding of this reality.

Both sides used meteorologists to help them understand when to attack (Allies) and when to expect to be attacked (Germans). The English Channel was notorious for capricious, severe weather which included high surf and gale force winds; in this particular case, the whims of weather could mean life and death as well as success and failure in a complex matrix of military expediency. It just so happens that the Allies came when the Germans least expected them. This is noteworthy and the story behind this fortuitous turn of events is fascinating and thought provoking.

 The initial day for the attack (which had been in the planning for several years) was June 5, 1944. British meteorologists agreed that a storm that would include the aforementioned harsh conditions was likely to be in play on the appointed date. Interestingly a full moon was also crucial, so the three-day window of the 4^th through the 6^th was not something that could be altered from the perspective of the Allies’ brain trust. Commanding General and future President Dwight D. Eisenhower, based on counsel from British weather experts, makes the decision to postpone the invasion for 24 hours. A risky, risky, move as the weather was expected by many, including the Germans of course, to offer no possibility of attack until at least the middle of the month. So confident were they in this assessment that Nazi commanders called away many potential combatants. Even Field Marshal Erwin Rommel left the defenses so that he could be with his wife on her birthday and personally present a pair of Parisian shoes as a special gift.

British officer Captain James Stagg*** is not a name that many would know (but it should be), yet his ability to foresee the conditions with amazing clarity led to the initial postponement and the subsequent green light that anticipated a brief but vital lull in the weather and created a situation whereby the Germans were taken by surprise, undermanned, and lacking in key leadership which led directly to the Allies’ triumph of the beaches of France on June 6^th, 1944. Stagg in fact had to overrule the opinion of the top American meteorologists when it mattered most.  The loss of life was still frightful, especially on Omaha Beach and the weather was certainly not perfect, yet it was good enough to allow for the invasion against a foe that had enough advantages. This quirk of fate more than likely provided the difference which allowed for victory on THAT PARTICULAR DAY. I say “that particular day” because ANOTHER DAY, (later in the month or one day earlier) may have not been good enough for the herculean task that this brave coalition of soldiers were called upon to do. Baseball might be a game of inches, war on the other hand is a contest of timing and will in which fate seems to reward the brave, well prepared, and sticklers for detail. Staggs was most certainly a man of detail and precision.

Weeks later, Stagg wrote a memo to General Eisenhower mentioning that a delay pushing the invasion of Normandy until later in the month would have subjected the invading force to the worst weather in The Channel in two decades. Eisenhower, simply wrote on the report, “I thank the Gods of war that we went when we did.” The Free World is forever grateful for the turn of events.

We simply need to know these stories and be able to make the connections as to how seemingly random and inconsequential events turn into consequential pieces of a puzzle which ultimately reveal the whole. What if Sacagawea wasn’t along on the Lewis and Clark journey? What if the weather hadn’t taken a harsh turn for the worst when Germany was about to lay a stranglehold on much of Europe? What if the weather hadn’t allowed for a successful beachhead on the shores of Normandy when the end of the war was within grasp?

Possibly nothing would be different as we await the turn of the calendar and the beginning of a new year. Something tells me that if these events hadn’t unfolded the way that they did, Covid and Political Correctness might in fact be the least of our worries. Hindsight is always 20/20, yet sometimes I get the feeling that all is progressing exactly as it was intended to progress.  

Divine Conclusions- (my definition)- “something of God that progresses imperfectly, though finishes superbly in the end.”  

You probably have your own. For me, this is how I reconcile much of what I learn in History.

Dedicated to the memory of Robert “Bob” Essick and Tom Oki. (See “A Love Story” for details on the lives of these two great men)

Thomas M. Cook

12/31/2021

As a prospective college student (back in the day), who really had no idea what he wanted to do, I can certainly sympathize with the late bloomers out there. When it came time to pick a major, it wasn’t a particularly difficult choice. I had always liked to read (not always the things that I was supposed to read for school), and I had always enjoyed the story of how this country came to be. Moreover, I was also pretty dreadful in subjects such as Math and Science, so the choice of History was made even easier. I ascribed to a theory of studying what you enjoy, while knowing that what you enjoy can certainly become a hobby if it doesn’t become a career. As we all know, very few people get to make a career out of their passion. I would suggest that all of us have the opportunity to make a hobby out of our passion(s).

I can’t tell you how many people told me that History was a poor choice and that there was little that it would prepare me for later in life. I am here today to tell you that they were wrong, though well-meaning. I learned how to speak and write well, and I learned how important it is to understand the past on a deep level that allows one to understand and in fact, at times, be flabbergasted by what is happening in the present (think 2021). Speaking well and writing well are kind of lost arts these days and that is a shame. There was a time in our not so distant past when they were quite essential.

 I am enthusiastically promoting the concept (as many have) that History is more than just names and dates, much more. The story of Dr. Alfred Nobel provides a great example of this. Have you ever heard of Dr. Alfred Noble? Probably not. However, I am quite sure you have heard of the Nobel Peace Prize. Same guy… What a lot of people don’t know is that there are also prizes in Physics, Chemistry, Physiology or Medicine, and Literature. Another interesting, though little-known fact is that each “noble laureate” receives a gold medal featuring the face of Dr. Alfred Nobel, a diploma, and about a million dollars. Alright so some rich guy started an award, what is so interesting about that? Well, as we dig a little deeper, it turns out the story of Dr. Alfred Nobel is quite fascinating and goes far beyond the scope of what one might expect. Remember, History is “fun.”

Alfred Nobel was born in Stockholm, Sweden in 1833 into a wealthy family. His father Immanuel Nobel was very successful in a number of ventures that were usually associated with construction, engineering, and military procurement. The family spent time in Finland and Russia as the family’s fortunes ebbed and flowed over the years of Alfred’s youth (though very successful the path was one of boom and bust at times). Alfred shared his father’s scientific mind but was also very interested in poetry and literature, and incredibly spoke Swedish, Russian, French, English, and German fluently at the tender age of 17. His father disliked and discouraged his interest in these areas and ultimately sent him abroad for studies in chemical engineering. Turns out, young Alfred enjoyed this as well; he was a man of many passions. During his studies, he even spent some time in America.

He ultimately became interested / obsessed with the compound nitroglycerine and the possibility of finding a safe way to use it. Nitroglycerine was produced by mixing glycerin with sulfuric and nitric acid; it was considered far too dangerous to be of any practical use. The appeal of nitroglycerin had much to do with the fact that its explosive power greatly exceeded that of gunpowder. In an age of continual warfare and industrial construction, this alone made it a hypnotic lure. Unfortunately, the liquid would explode in a very unpredictable manner if subjected to heat and pressure. Many people have died over the years learning of its danger the hard way. The early period of the building of the Transcontinental Railroad after the American Civil War included the use of nitroglycerin by the Central Pacific to forge / bore Summit Tunnel through the most formidable parts of the Sierra Nevada range near the summit. You could even suggest that the task would have been virtually impossible without it.

Alfred went back in 1852 to work for the family business in Petersburg, Russia which was now booming as a result of arms shipments and naval mines (developed by Immanuel) to the Russian army during the Crimean War (1853-1856). After the war Immanuel Nobel was forced into bankruptcy for the second time in his life as conditions changed drastically after the war. It was at this point that fortunes changed dramatically for the family. Alfred never forgot about the work he did with nitroglycerine, and he set about the task of making it commercially feasible. Meanwhile his two brothers Robert and Ludvig who remained in Russia after the rest of the family went back to Sweden, managed to salvage the family business by essentially creating the oil industry in the southern part of the Russian empire; they became quite wealthy. Meanwhile Alfred went about the dangerous task of developing nitroglycerine into a usable explosive. Tragically, an explosion in 1864 killed several people including his brother Emil. Eventually, Alfred was able to perfect his new creation with various additives which turned it into a paste. He dubbed his new compound “Dynamite.”  At the same time, he also invented a detonator which allowed for drastically reduced costs and safety for a variety of construction projects in a rapidly industrialized world. Additionally, he helped to revolutionize the art of war and the ability to kill and maim with far greater efficiency. Amazingly, Alfred also went on to establish many other chemical inventions including synthetic leather and silk. By the time of his death in December of 1896, he had 355 patents.

Alfred became, in short order, a very wealthy man. And a man who in fact became a bit (open to interpretation as to degree) haunted to by legacy of his work. In fact, the actual genesis for the creation of the various Nobel Awards is thought to have come from an early reading of his own scathing obituary. In a Mark Twain-like moment, a French newspaper printed an obituary for Alfred mistakenly when his older brother Ludwig died in 1888. Reports of Mark Twain’s Quote About His Own Death Are Greatly Exaggerated | Mental Floss He was referred to as “the merchant of death” and the paper went on to proclaim, “Dr. Alfred Nobel, who became rich by finding ways to kill more people faster, than ever before, died yesterday.” Upon reading this, Nobel was inspired to rewrite his will (94% of his assets went toward the venture) and create the prizes that celebrated and rewarded mankind’s greatest achievements, including peace. * So, if not for a mistakenly written obituary, an iconic, tradition laden award would never have been established. History is full of stories like this. The serendipitous nature of world events is often quite astonishing. ** Or is it? Fun to ponder and consider.  

The official website of the Nobel Prize – NobelPrize.org

*In 1876 at age 43, after new constant travel and hard work Alfred went on to add another strange footnote to his legacy. Feeling a bit worn out and old beyond his years, Alfred advertised the need for a female companion to look after his affairs and provide companionship. Austrian Countess Bertha Kinsky worked for Alfred for a short time and then returned to Austria to be married to Count Arthur von Suttner. They remained lifelong friends and exchanged letters for the rest of Alfred’s life. Obviously, he was quite touched and impacted by the association. She wrote a prominent book Lay Down Your Arms and became a vocal spokesperson for something known as the Peace Movement. In a time of perpetual war and conflict around the globe, these were radical views. World War I was just around the corner and would go on to attest to the carnage of industrialized warfare.  Quite interestingly, it seems very apparent that she must have been a significant inspiration for a Nobel Peace Prize and even more interestingly, Bertha von Suttner went on to win a Nobel Peace Prize in 1905, nine years after Alfred’s death.

**The will and final testament came as a great surprise to many, including relatives and high-ranking authorities in several countries who contested it unsuccessfully for years.

Thomas M. Cook 

10/25/21

Take a look at a dollar bill (not right this moment but soon). Something we used to do all the time, though not as an intricate examination exercise but as simply something the average person casually did because we used actual currency and coins regularly. Imagine that. Is that good or bad? I really don’t know the answer to that question, but I certainly know that it is SO different now, in what has become essentially a cashless society. All currency is essentially a work of art as well as a utilitarian means of exchange that includes things like mottos, creeds, and even symbols. Something is lost when our respective debit / credit cards become the conduit of exchange. Not a lot of numismatic intrigue or value in plastic unfortunately. Plastic seems to serve as a great metaphor for what we have become as a society.

Back to the lowly paper dollar for a moment… Printed prominently on the back are the words, “In God We Trust.” For many people those words are a relic of the past which essentially mean nothing and / or are seen as a quaint reminder of the way simple, nonscientific, less enlightened people used to think. We are so much more sophisticated now from the point of view of the secular crowd for whom the concept of God is nonspecific, all-encompassing (can be whatever you want it to be), and quite abstract. From the perspective of our not-so-distant ancestors, our society would be viewed as something which has become secular to a degree that would, for them, be shocking and truthfully difficult to even comprehend. God, and the concept of God as a force in one’s life was a big part of our American ancestor’s existence. Remember, many people initially came to this continent seeking religious and other freedoms; it was a bold move both literally and figuratively. And, while many people in America still profess a belief in God (2018 survey by Pew), those statistics come off as quite misleading to me. Americans’ beliefs about the nature of God | Pew Research Center (pewforum.org)

While it is true that the overwhelming majority of Americans believe in a higher power, only a slight majority believe in the God of the Bible. All very squishy, all very new age, all very “God can be whomever you choose God to be,” permeates the statistics. The trend is certainly headed in the direction of rising nonbelief as younger people are increasingly disinclined to believe in God and the older people who retain a high degree of faith are dying. I’m not buying the apparent benign nature of the statistics; moreover, the world has changed a great deal in the last two years, and I would suggest we have seen a shocking acceleration of the existing trends.  We live in an increasingly narcissistic, “me-centric” age that glorifies the individual to a point of utter excess. The internet and social media mindset have ushered in an age that simply pushes God out of the equation and has created a tribe-like mentality that has been described by some as a philosophical civil war (at least politically). We all know that this is where we are, and yet we continue to cascade down the path that has created so much animosity and unhappiness. Leaving God out is rarely a recipe for human contentedness, Facebook “likes” notwithstanding. We’ve all heard the statistics as to a direct correlation between time spent on social media and decreasing happiness. The relationship is quite linear unsurprisingly. Again, I’m not telling you anything that you do not suspect or in fact know. This has become common knowledge and yet we persist. Dopamine anyone? If it feels good, do it. We are all mini gods who control our personal destiny. Narcissism has become the new religion in many ways. Moral and spiritual decline, you bet.  

All of this by way of summary leads me to a look back on the actual Civil War in this country (1861-1865), a time of epoch polarization and devastation both emotional and physical, in an attempt to see and distinguish meaningful parallels and contrasts. The American Civil War and the Second World War are the two seminal events for this country. Sure, there would be no America without the Revolutionary War; yet for our purposes I would like to focus on the Civil War and see how the population dealt with such a momentous, frightful event which reeked death and destruction on a level difficult to comprehend by the standards of 2021 understanding. We seem to be preoccupied with multiple pronouns, safe spaces, and cancelling people, places, and things; This speaks volumes by way of comparison. People of that era would have thought we had lost our minds; I know some people from 2021 who feel the same way. Count me in that group.   

The latest statistics on Civil War deaths are suggesting that as many as 750,000 Americans (North and South) died in the conflict.  Civil War Toll Up by 20 Percent in New Estimate – The New York Times (nytimes.com) This is up from a number closer to 600,000 about a decade ago. This was, unsurprisingly, a calamitous experience in which fellow Americans waged war upon one another in a manner that was at times quite prolific and barbaric. Yes, it is true that many of these combatants died of disease and other complications. Yet, to put this in proper perspective it is important to remember how much smaller the general population was in those days. Math has a way of presenting the grisly and the tragic in a way that illustrates the true impact, right between the eyes. I found the following statistics quite interesting. Approximately 2.5% of the population died in the war. 504 deaths per day as an average during the course of the war and remember things started slowly (the killing that is). Based on population numbers from present times, 7,000,000 deaths would represent a comparable number!

By the end of the war, we had carnage such as what happened at the battle of Cold Harbor in Virginia (June of 1864) in which approximately 6,000 Union soldiers were killed in an ill-advised charge into a fortified Confederate position, in less than an hour. Think about that for a moment. This was more slaughter than battle and yet there were numerous examples of devastation like this in the latter stages of the war. Consider Gettysburg (a name most everyone knows) in which the combined total of dead, wounded, and missing numbered roughly 51,000 over less than three days of fighting. For the South, their number of 28,000 represented more than a third of Robert E. Lee’s army. The turning point of the war in the eyes of many historians and a causality percentage that would be seen as unthinkable in any battle experienced by Americans during the Second World War.  

The passions were high, the tactics were inappropriate in deference to the power of the weaponry that was used, and the Union had learned that they could lose soldiers and replace them easily, whereas the Confederacy could not. So, under the influence of Ulysess S. Grant, William T. Sherman, Philip Sheridan, and others, the macabre, yet winning strategy was crafted and executed to perfection. Future President and commanding general Grant was referred to as “The Butcher” by the Northern press of the day for his willingness to absorb huge casualties. It became a war of attrition that the South could not win. My primary point here is not to conduct a military history lesson, my intention is to point out that the term “civil war” is one that should not be casually interjected when seeking parallels between then and now. There is no comparison. People yelling at each other and being mean on social media platforms is hardly comparable. The current polarization is real, the angst is palpable, the hopelessness is real, and the threat to the future of the republic as we know it is evident. That I do not dispute for a moment.

The Civil War for better or worse was an event that rocked the population to its foundational core. America became a living embodiment of a culture of death and attempting to cope with complete and utter despair (especially in the South). None other than Abraham Lincoln (an avid Bible reader) grappled with this very issue as the leader of our country. Consider the following proclamation in March of 1863 (before Gettysburg) that called for a resolution invoking a day of prayer and fasting. Lincoln signed the proclamation, introduced by James Harlan of Iowa on March 30, one month before the appointed day. This is worth reading twice to truly take in the emotion and remorse.

  By the President of the United States of America.

A Proclamation.

“Whereas, the Senate of the United States, devoutly recognizing the Supreme Authority and just Government of Almighty God, in all the affairs of men and of nations, has, by a resolution, requested the President to designate and set apart a day for National prayer and humiliation.

And whereas it is the duty of nations as well as of men, to own their dependence upon the overruling power of God, to confess their sins and transgressions, in humble sorrow, yet with assured hope that genuine repentance will lead to mercy and pardon; and to recognize the sublime truth, announced in the Holy Scriptures and proven by all history, that those nations only are blessed whose God is the Lord.

And, insomuch as we know that, by His divine law, nations like individuals are subjected to punishments and chastisements in this world, may we not justly fear that the awful calamity of civil war, which now desolates the land, may be but a punishment, inflicted upon us, for our presumptuous sins, to the needful end of our national reformation as a whole People? We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of Heaven. We have been preserved, these many years, in peace and prosperity. We have grown in numbers, wealth, and power, as no other nation has ever grown. But we have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious hand which preserved us in peace and multiplied and enriched and strengthened us; and we have vainly imagined, in the deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these blessings were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own. Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God that made us!

It behooves us then, to humble ourselves before the offended Power, to confess our national sins, and to pray for clemency and forgiveness.

Now, therefore, in compliance with the request, and fully concurring in the views of the Senate, I do, by this my proclamation, designate and set apart Thursday, the 30th. day of April 1863, as a day of national humiliation, fasting and prayer. And I do hereby request all the People to abstain, on that day, from their ordinary secular pursuits, and to unite, at their several places of public worship and their respective homes, in keeping the day holy to the Lord, and devoted to the humble discharge of the religious duties proper to that solemn occasion.

All this being done, in sincerity and truth, let us then rest humbly in the hope authorized by the Divine teachings, that the united cry of the Nation will be heard on high, and answered with blessings, no less than the pardon of our national sins, and the restoration of our now divided and suffering Country, to its former happy condition of unity and peace.

In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the seal of the United States to be affixed.

Done at the City of Washington, this thirtieth day of March, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, and of the Independence of the United States the eighty seventh.”

By the President: Abraham Lincoln

William H. Seward, Secretary of State.

So, a day of National Humiliation for the sins of the country and an appeal to God through prayer and fasting, to help lift the self-inflicted burden of the dreadful conflict. My oh my, have times changed. World War II, with all of its horrors, also saw an increased devotion to God and an appeal to deliver the citizens from the carnage of war on a global scale. Tough times have a way of pushing out the secular and ushering in the “In God We Trust” side of the equation. Can you even imagine, in your wildest dreams, a 21^st century national appeal to God that calls for humility, introspection, prayer, and fasting in deference to the mess that our country and this world have become.

This was not a unique response to the scourge of civil war by the way. Lincoln, a student of History assuredly knew that in 1642 during the English Civil War, Parliament closed all theaters (the source of a myriad of public entertainment in those days) as it was seen as inappropriate in the “current times of humiliation” as public stage plays and events, were seen as “lascivious mirth and levity.” They to appealed to a higher power and made the gesture of forsaking something antithetical to the time of national crisis. The ban wasn’t lifted until 1648.   

Yes, my main point here is that an actual Civil War is in no way comparable to a philosophical civil war. Yet, I think that few would argue that the issues we are grappling with threaten to tear down the foundation of this country and remake it into something that none of our immediate ancestors would recognize. Social justice, equity in the form of taking from one group and giving to another, neo-Marxism, CRT, woke ideology, abortion on demand, illegal immigration apathy, mandates, and a whole host of major changes in how we should change how we view and conduct ourselves as a country are serious issues. We are a completely divided country that WAS at one time (even during The Civil War), tethered by our Judeo-Christian principles and The Ten Commandments. Again, I turn to Lincoln, who, in his Second Inaugural address said the following.

“Neither party expected for the war, the magnitude, or the duration, which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease with, or even before, the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding. Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God; and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God’s assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men’s faces; but let us judge not that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered; that of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has His own purposes.”

A lot to unpack here I realize… Lincoln knew he was speaking a language that both the people of the North and South would understand (he appealed to their Americanism essentially), and he was pointing out the fact that the South enslaved black people as antithetical to an appeal to God while at the same time saying that his side was far from perfect in the appraisal of whom to blame. The interesting part is that God’s interpretation was important to both sides. It didn’t make the combatants and their respective rationales for what was happening perfect people, but it did make them perfectly connected in a sense, in that The Almighty’s purposes mattered to both sides despite the enmity and violence they visited upon one another.

Both sides turned to God and Lincoln understood this and shepherded accordingly. The power of that bond ultimately led to the PAINFUL but SURE path to reconciliation decades later. This is what concerns me now quite frankly. There truly is no grand bond and shared ideology today. One side sees America as a bad, evil country that needs to be torn down and remade and the other sees it as an imperfect, yet noble country that should retain its unique freedoms and belief in merit as a final arbiter of individual achievement. These are stark differences which are less and less mitigated by an underlaying bond. That bond has been broken (badly frayed says the optimist in me), in large part due to our forsaking of a knowledge of History I would suggest. The tearing down of statues is great way to retard the process of learning about the past in a fair and honest way. Human beings are complex creatures, and it is pretty rare, if not impossible to find a character from the past who conforms to the mores and attitudes of the present. Not that the present is anything to put on a pedestal of righteousness.  By making them disappear, the panacea is complete, or so the defenders of these strategies espouse.

History has a way of showing a road map, both good and bad, for the way forward. People of our not-so-distant past turned to God in times of tumult, far beyond anything we have seen in recent times. In fact, we have seen the exact opposite as a response for the vast majority. But remember, and this is important, the Holocaust didn’t start with extermination, it started with demonization and reeducation of children. It began with a strategy of remaking the current status quo and worked hard at demonizing a segment of the population. It left God and mercy out of the equation unless the Church leaders were willing to toe the line.  Using CRT as an example (and speaking of reeducation), isn’t it true that the basic message is that white skin is bad and black skin is good. This is being taught to young children and the current outrage is understandable. It is possible to display America’s flaws without concluding that skin color is the sole determinant as to human behavior, past, present, and future. Sheer idiocy and we should all be appalled and moved to resistance.     How does this in any way comport with Martin Luther King’s sentiment from his “I Have a Dream” speech in 1963. “I look to a day when people will be not judged by the color of their skin but the content of their character.”  The short answer is that it doesn’t. Those Martin Luther King statues might be in danger I fear.

Referring back to Lincoln again and pointing out again that he was an astute student of both general history and the Bible. Something tells me he was also, most likely quite familiar with the following verses from the Book of Daniel (as Daniel struggles with the dislocation and persecution of the Israelites).

“Lord, the great and awesome God, who keeps the covenant of love, with those who love him and keep his commandments, we have sinned and done wrong. We have been wicked and rebelled; we have turned away from your commands and laws. We have not listened to your servants and prophets, who spoke in your name to our kings, princes, and our ancestors, and to all the people of the land.”

Book of Daniel Chapter 9, Verses 5-6.

Daniel goes on to blame their plight on “unfaithfulness” and states that they are “covered with shame” as they have “sinned” and “rebelled” against God. A heartfelt prayer by a true man of contrition. I like to think that Lincoln was inspired by these verses as he struggled with what was happening to his country in 1863 and beyond. Lincoln urged a turning to God in humility and remorse for the status quo of the time. Also, he urged a genuine benevolence for the South at a time in which passions were high and executions and imprisonment for southern players could have been the route which the victorious North chose. Again, Lincoln was a Godly man who was more interested in forgiveness and reconciliation while those around him thought of revenge and vengeance. I hear talk of tearing down Lincoln statues these days. Small minds are capable of dastardly deeds, and this is one of many reasons why it is so important to know your History.    

History has suggested that leaving God out of the equation has never been a good idea and that people throughout history have had a propensity to learn this the hard way. 2021 with all its technology, connectivity, and scientific knowledge can learn a lot from looking at the past. Best to nip the calamity in the bud than to head down the path of destruction that we have seemingly laid out for ourselves. “In God We Trust” needs to make a resurgence and the secularization of ALL things, as dictated by an ardent few needs to be met head on. We certainly are not in a civil war by the standards of the middle part of the 19^th century, but we are headed in a direction that is troubling in the extreme.

On September 17^th, 1787, as delegates left the Constitutional Convention in Independence Hall in Philadelphia, someone asked Benjamin Franklin what kind of government had been crafted. His answer, “A republic, if you can keep it.” The American Civil War provided a huge test of that concept. What lays ahead may prove to be even more challenging. Time will tell. 

“Science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind.” 

Albert Einstein

Thomas M. Cook

10/20/21