One day last week Writer’s Almanac tucked in a tidbit from Rudyard Kipling: “If history were taught in the form of stories, it would never be forgotten.” I think that’s right, as far as it goes.
The problem, of course, is that the unforgettable stories do not all say the same things, do they! And people make new stories about old lives, and try to change the unforgettable narrative. It happens all the time. It’s only human. I don’t object to human nature. Waste of breath. I do, however, object to outright lies about our communal stories. As we enter the Sesquicentennial of the Civil War, the lies are piling up like autumn leaves.
My Civil War veterans are cackling about it. They’ve been dead long enough to think it’s funny. Unless the lies are about them, and then they get testy and send me back to work. You start out trying to find out a little bit about 21 guys who started a GAR post back in 1884 and you end up wading through blood and fire in Missouri and shaking your head over a 19th century vendetta in the Free Press. Clearly time for a break.
I went on a reading binge. Three mysteries with local connections: Aaron Stander’s Summer People, Bryan Gruley’s Starvation Lake, and Murder at the PTA by “Laura Allen” who is really the estimable Janet Koch. Enjoyed ’em all. Took my mind entirely off work. Except for this. In each one, the solution to the mystery depends on unearthing a past everyone thought was buried. Nothing ever stays buried, does it?
Then I read Barbara Kingsolver’s The Lacuna. I’ve hated doing book reports ever since I was a child, and I’m not going to do one now. You can find all kinds of reviews of this excellent novel online. But I recommend it, indeed I do. My head is filled with images of Frida Kahlo, Leon Trotsky, baking lessons, a tunnel between the ocean and a hidden pool – I don’t see how you can go wrong. It was so good that it shamed me into getting back to work.
So I just spent the entire treats budget for January ordering a soldier’s pension records from the National Archives. I just can’t resist a puzzle. Besides, I want to tell some true stories that you will never be able to forget.
A Costa Rican guide had an answer to all historical mysteries: The truth is in the bottom of the well. I had to think about it, but I decided it means that we throw everything we don’t want to confront into the deepest well we can find. The only way a person ever really knows the whole truth, then, is to be thrown into the well for being a Person We Do Not Wish to Hear.
Ah well. I also believe that to know all is to forgive all. In that last moment, as the full horror of the situation registers, the person who has just splashed into the well must surely see everything, even the bones of those who have gone before, and, comprehending, must forgive everything in a blinding flash of insight. It would be almost worth it, you know?
But then, I’m a pretty good swimmer, and I am reliably informed that the tunnels between Torch Lake and the Bay may not be mythical after all . . .
Torch Lake Views 
Fee
January 5, 2011
What little I know about the Civil War has been gleaned from Hollywood, I’m afraid, so your veterans would likely be spinning in their graves at my ignorance. I do know better than that. I should consult our excellent local library, and if/when I ever get the time, I will. I have noted your recommended books and will keep my eyes peeled for them. I do love a good read.
On a lighter note, returning to Hollywood and it’s faint grasp of history, my beloved refuses to watch “Braveheart” with me, after the first time when I pointed out the myriad inaccuracies contained therein. The words, “Well, that never happened,” appeared to be spoiling his enjoyment somewhat. Oops.
Gerry
January 5, 2011
You probably already figured out that Southern belles didn’t much go in for turning draperies into ballgowns, eh?
But wait, wait . . . Braveheart isn’t true? Something starring Mel Gibson has . . . inaccuracies? I’m shocked, I tell you, shocked.
P.j. grath
January 5, 2011
Gerry, your brain must ache with all that Civil War thinking. Here’s a book (out of print) I highly recommend: Archer, Jules. THE EXTREMISTS: GADFLIES OF AMERICAN HISTORY (nonfiction). Archer covers extremism and division in American history up to the Sixties, and after you read it you realize there was never a time when “one nation” thought with “one mind”! Also, very coincidentally to reading your post today, just last night I read Tony Judt’s closing essay (appropriately titled “Epilogue”) in his book POSTWAR: A HISTORY OF EUROPE SINCE 1945. Does it surprise you that European history since 1945 has been, in just about country, East and West, a series of “histories,” as memories are suppressed and ignored until they re-emerge and compete for attention? I’m very interested in what you’re finding in the communal memory concerning our Civil War. But do you really believe that understanding all means forgiving all? Is it up to me to decide whether or not to forgive evil visited on someone else?
Gerry
January 5, 2011
(1) My brain aches from the strain of keeping a spaniel and a terrier. The yapping of my Civil War veterans doesn’t really add all that much to the chaos around here.
(2) Nothing would surprise me about the human propensity for rewriting unpleasant memories.
(3) Forgiving does not mean excusing. And it’s personal, not something to be done on behalf of someone else. Yes, more and more I believe that if I understood everything I would arrive at forgiveness.
Preston
January 5, 2011
Our little city celebrated a Sesquicentennial a year or so ago. Anna and I were able to capture it all on video and photos. There were a lot of reinactors and they did not mind having their photo taken. They would not talk or act out of character. We saw a harsh looking pioneer woman and she would act that way when talking to her. As were the quite reserved ones whom knew their manners. They allowed us to photograph them but would not speak hardly at all. If you tried to talk about current events, they would not hear you but instead talk about the condition of the soldiers or about what they will prepare for supper.
Gerry
January 5, 2011
My aunt used to be an interpreter at Greenfield Village. She loved every minute of it, and as she has a wicked sense of humor she was really good at it, too. I love this stuff.
Scott Thomas Photography
January 5, 2011
History is written by the victors so what you say about wells is very, very true. Good luck in your quest. I will be looking forward to those memorable stories.
Gerry
January 5, 2011
Me too, Scott. I can hardly wait to see what they say. You think I’m kidding. I am not. I never know what I’m going to write until I read it.
Wendi
January 5, 2011
Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy…a book by B Kingsolver I have not read yet!!!!! Thank you!!!! I miss so many good things when I am not paying attention.
Gerry
January 5, 2011
How did I not know that you’re a Kingsolver fan? You’ll love The Lacuna.
Louan
January 5, 2011
It’s a good thing that we don’t all live much longer than we do. I am already finding myself rejecting accounts of the 60’s events that I remember. It seems they are so over blown, and trivial, and overly tie dyed. Truth may not be as important as fashion, now.
Good luck, with the Civil War.
Gerry
January 5, 2011
Heck, I didn’t recognize the portrait of “The Sixties” that was painted in the 70s.
I did, however, recognize the 60’s in your song.
I have to ask my dad if he recognizes the 1940s of the popular imagination. Huh.
Come to think of it, I probably have not paid sufficient attention to fashion. I meant the post-Civil War era, but I suppose I’ve never paid sufficient attention to it. Huh again.
Molly
January 5, 2011
Hmmm….. I am soaking in all your thoughts about stories. And ‘to know all is to forgive all’….. I think we should all tattoo this on the inside of our eyelids (or am I just being dramatic again?).
Gerry
January 5, 2011
Drama is good. Tattooing not so much. Hurts.
I’m hoping that I can achieve a measure of wisdom while I can still remember things. It’s a horse race.
La Mirada Bob
January 6, 2011
Now that is a tough question.
Go to Cass Tech, work, dance, sail, go to Michigan State, work, get married, work, be blessed with a cute little girl, move to a small town, make new friends and discover the joys of life in the North Woods, work, dance and fish.
I don’t believe my life touches on “the 1940s of the popular imagination”.
Gerry
January 6, 2011
See, I’m thinking no one’s life matches the pick-your-era of the popular imagination. We’re all just too busy living our lives to spend a whole lot of time doing iconic things. And there’s a big difference between nostalgia and personal history. Still . . . there are things that resonate for us. (Hank Greenberg’s grand slam in 1945 was right up there for Mom!) Interesting stuff to think about.
flandrumhill
January 7, 2011
‘ to know all is to forgive all’
I believe that. Otherwise, what would be the point of acquiring all that knowledge?
Wells, like bogs, were often places where precious goods (including butter) were stashed in anticipation of an invasion. Apparently there would be some treasure to be found along with the truth if you were to dig deep enough.
Gerry
January 7, 2011
Sometimes I think the pursuit of knowledge is a compulsion like any other. At least it has some value and doesn’t make you fat.
You make a good point about the butter. It occurs to me that bogs are even better places to hide things. No one else would know where to look. The well, though . . . well, there it is. Let’s go look in the well!