The Kindness of Strangers

In the film A Streetcar Named Desire, the character Blanche DuBois utters the famous line, "I have always relied on the kindness of strangers."  Of course, when she said it, Blanche was pretty much headed for the insane asylum, but that's beside the point.  At this moment in my life, I am having to consider the implications of letting people help me through a difficult time as well as accepting gifts from those who wish me well as I transition to a new phase.

I have always been blessed with good friends.  I don't throw around the word "blessed" without thinking that it sounds a little religious for a sworn atheist like me.  But "blessed" is actually what it is.  As a child, through my school years, and into my working life, I have had the great fortune to be surrounded by good people.  They came in all shapes and sizes, they flitted into and out of my life at exactly the right points, and I was always the better for knowing them.  In fact, even in the friendships that ended badly--and I can count those on the fingers of one hand--I still find something redeeming from the fact that I experienced the relationship. 

Now, my friends and co-workers are sharing their good wishes with me, sometimes to the tune of a gift, a lunch, a special e-mail, or some other token of affection.  I am overwhelmed by it all.  Some of the most generous, thoughtful, and decent people in the world work at the Sacramento Superior Court, and I am the better for having known them. 

So, my blog readers, you will have to bear with me for the next few weeks as I reflect on and appreciate the great blessing that has been given me through the friendships I have made at work.  I'm going to be mushy, and there's just nothing I can do about it.

Juxtaposition

I love the idea of the juxtaposition--the "placement of two things (usually abstract concepts, though it can refer to physical objects) near each other."  Juxtaposition is one of the reasons I enjoy learning about the Progressive Era in American history.  And just last night I had my own personal experience with juxtaposition.

There are many great juxtapositions to be found in the Progressive Era.  My favorite is the contrast between the positive spirit of reform sweeping the nation during that time and some of the horrible ways in which those reforms were manisfested.  For example, the Progressive Era was the period of settlement houses like Hull House in Chicago, the introduction of the kindergarten, and the establishment of worker's compensation for people injured on the job.  These positive reforms, aimed at helping those who were vulnerable or who had suffered some misfortune, can still be seen in one way or another today. 

Juxtapose that vision of aid to those in need against the practice of the "science" of eugenics going on at the same time.

Today we gape in wide-eyed disbelief over how a theory like eugenics (improving the human condition by ridding the gene pool of the undesirable) could ever have been taken seriously.  Yet in California, powerful leaders like the inventor Alexander Graham Bell, president of Stanford University David Starr Jordan, and botantist Luther Burbank were in the vanguard of championing the movement.  In Sacramento, Charles Goethe (yes, of Goethe Park fame), the very man who provided the land on which rests my beloved CSUS, trumpeted the benefits of eugenics. 

Juxtaposition:  a reform movement aimed at helping those less fortunate and a bio-social science that aimed at forced sterlization to cure the world of its undesirable elements.

Now for my personal juxtaposition experience.  This has to do with my pursuit of scholarly wisdom. 

For me, going to school, studying, writing, etc., is a solitary process.  I'm a fairly self-sufficient student, and I enjoy studying at my local Starbuck's or in the ARC or Library on campus.  These study periods of solutide, in spite of the fact that I'm generally surrounded by people, are a balm to my soul.  Anyone who knows me well knows the truth of the adage:  "Mama needs her cave time."  I am happiest when I am alone and focused on school work.

This week, classes started for the spring semester, my second semester in grad school.  On Monday night, I tentatively opened the door to the classroom (half an hour early, of course) and was immediately warmly welcomed by Texas, a grad student I had "debated" with in a History and Theory class last fall.  As more and more of my former classmates filled this classroom to begin the new semester, I was verklempt with a sense of belonging and camradarie.  Here were my people.  They all live and breathe their education.  They love being on campus, they love studying in coffee shops, they all want to talk about where to pursue their Ph.D.  And if that Monday night feeling of companionship had not been enough, last night I attended the first session of an undergrad elective class on the American Revolution.  Who should be waiting outside the classroom but my friend April, a wonderful woman with whom I have shared several undergrad classes--including our writing seminar class where she was kind enough to bring me popcorn with M&M's during a study session.  I was so delighted to see her, so pleased to be able to share the American Revolution with her, that I couldn't stop telling her how happy I was.

Juxtaposition:  my love of the solitary pursuit of knowledge and my absolute delight at being part of a community of students who share my passion about education.

Maxwell's Approach to Living

I'm not a shill for GEICO.  In fact, I don't have any insurance through that company (being a big fan of CSAA myself).  But I have to admit that I chuckle each time I see the GEICO commercial starring Maxwell the pig on the zip line.  While it does not inspire me to change my homeowner's or auto coverage, there is something compelling about the damned commercial.  Now what is it?

I think that Maxwell is sending me a subliminal message about how to live my life.  As I have mentioned before, I have received a lay-off notice after 25 years at the Sacramento Superior Court.  That feeling of standing on the brink of a new discovery, of a new chance at life, both thrills and frightens me.  My passion for such a long time now has not been my work at the Court.  It has been to learn and teach history.  Maybe not teach in the traditional way, behind the podium in a classroom, but somehow to share my love of the past with others and hopefully inspire people to feel the same.  I am certain deep down in my bones that this, guiding others to a love of history, is my purpose in life.  The only question is how to get to the point where I am doing just that--and how to support myself and my daughters in the process.

What does this have to do with Maxwell--or Max, as I like to call him (feeling close to him now)?  Well, Max doesn't just sit back and wait for that "pure adrenalin."  He hops on the zip line and lets himself feel and enjoy every second of the ride.  It must be scary, hanging by a thread over mountainous terrain.  But Max feels the wind in his face, and he lets the whole world hear his exhilaration as he experiences both the thrill and the fear.

Logic dictates that I should be frightened, desperate, and anxious at this point in my life--and this is what most of those close to me expect me to feel.  And sometimes I do get nagging little pangs of those emotions coursing through my veins.  But I'm going to live it like Max.  I will set my face into the wind, watch my pinwheels spin, and holler "wee weeeeee weee" all the way home.  Look out world, here I come.

The Wedding of Walter Stratton and Fern Gumz - May 1937

It was May 1937 in Oshkosh, Wisconsin.  The daily newspaper, the Oshkosh Northwestern, cost only 2 cents and was filled with news from across the world, from across the U.S., and from across Wisconsin.  President Franklin Roosevelt was still virgorously pursuing solutions to the ongoing Great Depression, including an attemp to initiate his Social Security program and an effort to expand the Supreme Court.  In society news, the notorious mistress of the former King Edward VIII of England, Mrs. Wallis Simpson, was given a divorce decree, leaving her free to marry the man who gave up his crown for love of her. 

Across the country, labor union activity kept the business world in an uproar.  In Hollywood, members of the Screen Actors Guild, led by President Robert Montgomery, joined moving-making craft unions in a strike.  In Kenosha, Wisconsin, members of the A.F. of L. and the C.I.O. bickered amongst themselves, in spite of a declaration of an "immediate need" for labor cooperation.



In the Algoma Street Methodist Church in Oshkosh, the Reverend Harry Illingworth joined a young couple in marriage--Walter Charles Stratton and Fern Susan Gumz.



The groom was 27 years old, the son of Ellison Stratton and Marie Draves Stratton. He was born in Coloma, Wisconsin, a small farming community in neighboring Waushara County, and had moved to Oshkosh as a teenager.  He was a graduate of Oshkosh High School, and remained in the city even after his parents had left Oshkosh to move to Berlin in Green Lake County, Wisconsin.

The Myth of the Lost Cause

In my humble opinion, the history of the history of the Civil War is actually more interesting than the history of the Civil War (with all apologies to James MacPherson and those like him who write so beautifully and knowledgeably about the conflict).

The Myth of the Lost Cause, a way of looking historically at the War, sprang up just a year after Lee’s surrender at Appomattox. Started by an historian-journalist named Edward Pollard, the Myth asserted that the South’s cause was noble (state’s rights) and that its men were only beaten by superior Union numbers (men and resources). In spite of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, Southern historians, and eventually many mainstream historians from across the country, were able to argue that the War had little if anything to do with the expansion of slavery. So pervasive was the Myth during the first half of the twentieth century that we can see it clearly delineated in films from Hollywood’s Golden Age—Gone with the Wind, The General, Santa Fe Trial, and numerous others. For heaven's sake, Birth of the Nation was the Myth "written with lightning" (as Woodrow Wilson might say). 

Personally, I will go with a quote from a more recent film, Night at the Museum: “North wins... Slavery is bad... Sorry... Don't want to burst your bubble but South, you guys get Allman Brothers...and... Nascar. So just chill!”

The more I understand about historiography, the more I like it!

Getting Started

Why the hell am I writing a blog? Well, I'm not quite sure, actually. I think there may be several reasons:

1. I'm at a transition point in my life, and I want to keep a journal of my new experiences.
2. I am passionate about the study of history, and I would like to find various and sundry ways of sharing that passion.
3. I like to write.
Yeah, that's about it.

Here's the 4-1-1 on me. I'm 50 years old (OMG!!!), separated from my "paper husband" for nearly 15 years now (another OMG!!!), and I've recently been given a lay-off notice from the employer for whom I've worked for the past 25 years (seriously?). Talk about a time of transition! I'm also a grad student at CSU Sacramento, majoring in history. I have a raucous household that consists of two daughters, one dog, and four cats. I am almost never bored.

In time, I hope that, through this blog, I will get to know myself a little better. It is scary, standing on the precipice of a life change, not knowing just where I'll land when I take the leap. Yet, I'm excited by the possibilities, the wonder of getting to explore a path that I never thought I'd venture down. It all stands open in front of me. I just need to take the first step.