Another Week in Knoxville

It's a sunny Saturday afternoon here in East Tennessee.  I'm sitting on Lovie the Loveseat, my laptop propped up on a pillow that is covered by one of Maddie's old shirts. Smoke is sitting on his scratching post, serenely observing the world around him.  On the television is one of my favorite movies, Now Voyager, with my gal Bette Davis.  Its just coming to the moment when she inadvertently gives her mother a fatal heart attack.  Oooops.  There goes the mother, sliding down in her rocking chair, now dead.  Melodrama at its finest!

This movie is why I started smoking when I was
fifteen.  It was just so damned romantic!

Everything going along just fine here.  This week has been filled with working on my damned prospectus.  I met with my advisor, Dr. F., on Monday, and he gave the overall idea an enthusiastic two thumbs up.  He caught me in a bad error, using the name Philip Kearny when I met Stephen Watts Kearny--he teased me about the horrified look on my face when he mentioned this boo-boo of mine.  But I won the next argument, about the word "mutiny" as one of the charges brought up in the court martial of John C. Fremont.  Dr. F. felt that the charge could not possibly have been mutiny, but I looked it up in the official record and looked up mutiny in the Articles of War enacted by Congress in 1806, the forerunner of the Uniform Code of Military Justice.  And I was so right--Dr. F. gave me an A+ plus three gold stars for my research.  😉

On the down side, I'm having to rewrite the chapter descriptions that are contained in the prospectus.  This work is absolutely necessary, as I have shifted the project from a chronological to a thematic structure.  But I'm getting so tangled up in my own writing that I can't tell what I'm doing.  So, I'm taking the Easter weekend, starting with Good Friday, away from the prospectus.  I'll give the damned thing about look on Monday and hopefully finished it up early next week.  Then off it goes to the Director of Graduate Studies, Dr. P., who will send it out to the entire department, along with the prospectuses of pals Alex, Laura, Tess, and Minami. We'll all give eight-minute presentations on our dissertation projects on April 19.  That's when the real pain will come, as we face our classmates and our faculty and have to defend our project ideas.  I'm so scared of Drs. O. and M. asking me questions that its ridiculous.

Me and my Prospectus
(artist rendition)

This week's walking took me even further on the Teague Greenway, from the beginning of the trail all the way to Walker Springs Road.  I'm starting to see the same people on my walks, also out getting their steps in.  Sadly, I don't always recognize the people.  I recognize their dogs instead.  There's the miniature Schnauzer, the crazy like Yorkie, and the poor little white mutt that walks behind the man that walks him, making it look like it's the man on the leash and the mutt calling the shots.  This week there was also an older lady who was walking a young puppy, which she told me she was training to the leash.  Unfortunately, this lady let the dog do all the training, making the lady stop whenever the dog wanted to sniff things off the path or meet new people--which is how I met them.

This morning I tried someplace new for my walking.  Now, I really should have been forewarned as I checked this trail online.

But I considered myself such a bad ass that I didn't heed the warning.  And the warning people were not kidding.  The inclines were HORRIBLE!  It felt like I was climbing The Hill at UT (something I've never done because of the ease of taking the bus).  As I sit crossed legged on my loveseat writing this, I'm feeling the strain on my muscles.  I thought that the hills I climb on the greenway were bad--this place gives me a whole other workout.  But, to be honest, the views were worth the struggle.

It was such a lovely day, I sort of wish I'd done the loop twice.  But that has to come later, when my legs are used to that kind of climbing.  Then, once I've worked up to it, the plan is to do the quarry trail around the lake at Ijams Nature Center, including a side trip to the little cemetery that's up there.  So many plans....

Bette just uttered the final words of Now Voyager:  "Jerry, don't let's ask for the moon.  We have the stars."  Big sigh from me.

So, I can mark off my to do list that I've written this blog.  Makes me feel productive.  That's all the news from Knoxville. Bye....

Walking Talking and Reading

It's a Sunday afternoon, and I've made the vow to write a blog each week.  So, once I finish writing this nonsense, I'll get to put a check mark into my to do list.

This week has been pretty darned pleasant.  Chantalle came to town, which is always a big treat for me.  That girl is fun, funny, and always up for some shopping (more on this later).  But, before I get into that, I'll write a little bit about walking.

The weather proved too good to ignore this week, and I spent as much time outside as possible.  The beginning of the week was a little cold, so I wasn't too incentivized to get out to the greenway or anything.  But, by Thursday, that had all changed.  I hit the Jean Teague greenway on Thursday afternoon and walked further than I had before.  Let me describe this beautiful piece of land in west Knoxville.  I begin my walk at a gravel parking lot just across the street from a school.  You'd think I'd know the name of the school, but I don't.  Anyway, the first part of the walk is through a park, with a baseball diamond, tennis courts, lots of playgrounds for kids (even a swingset away from the play areas which I assume is for grown-ups--at least that's what I tell myself when I swing there).  As you cross a small street, you get into a walkway alongside a creek.  On the other side of the creek are some really beautiful two- and three-story homes with huge backyards and lovely screened-in porches.  If I had to own a house again, I'd want one of those on the side of the creek.  As the path veers away from the creek, you round a corner that leads to the parking lot of a big church.  The path ends there and becomes just a regular sidewalk that leads up to a major road.  When I say up, I mean f'ing UP!  It's quite a climb before the sidewalk dips back down again--which is quite a dip.  There's a tunnel under the major road.  Once you've crossed that, there's a beautiful nature walk place, with the creek again on the side of the path and beautiful blooming trees and bushes.  I didn't walk to the end of this part of the trail as time was an issue, but I want to explore so much more.

From the Jean Teague Greenway

So, my legs were totally aching on Friday, after having scaled what felt was the Everest of hills on the greenway.  But I wasn't done.  As Chantalle was going out to brunch and then to watch the Purdue game, I decided that I would finally make a trip to the Ijams Nature Center.  This space is located alongside the Tennessee River and also encompasses a former quarry that is now a gorgeous lake.  Not knowing too much about the place, I headed over with just an iPhone full of Elvis tunes and a pair of earbuds.  Little did I know that I'd be doing more than walking.  Yes, like the campus of UT itself, the Ijams Nature Center is built on hill, hills, and more hills.  Next thing I knew, I was hiking down this steep trail from the visitor's center down toward the river.  God, it felt great, like I was at the cabin or something.  I followed the trail to a boardwalk that goes along the river and includes some caves, one of which was used by a woman in 1912 who hid there after killing a man.  Wandering around without a clue where I was going, I followed another trail over to the quarry area.  The lake there was sooooo gorgeous!  I scrambled up on a rock to contemplate the pretty water and to snap a pic.  Now, let me confess something about myself.  I am good at scrambling up rocks.  I SUCK at getting down again.  I had to scoot along on my bottom until I could grab at a tree trunk to pitch myself upright again.  Then I had to grab another tree trunk to finish the climb down.  I tried to avoid a mysterious green plant that was climbing up the second tree trunk, but I was unsuccessful.  Fears of poison oak filled my thoughts as I went back to the trail and walked for a little bit alongside the lake.  Every time I felt so much as a possible itch, I was sure I had the dreaded disease.  I pondered whether the visitor's center would have an antidote or whether I would have to go to some weekend clinic for treatment.  Happily, the mysterious plant was apparently not poison oak, and I finished my beautiful hike around Ijams without unnecessary scratching.

The lake in the old quarry--taken from my perch on a rock

After that, you'd think I'd walked enough for the week.  But no.  Neighbors Katie and Robert asked me to take their puppy out while they were down in Atlanta.  This time, my walk took me all around the neighborhood streets here in West Hills.  Miss April Kleinkopf-Rennie proved to be delightful company, and we walked each other until each of us was tuckered out.

Miss April

So much for the walking.  Now, for the talking.  Chantalle was in town.  Need I saw more?  Thursday night found us at Crown and Goose for trivia.  Joined by Ryan, Amanda, and Carrie, our team, "CIA Black Sites (Thailand)" took second place to "Unicorns on the Cob."  We might have won, but Chantalle didn't believe me when I answered one of the questions with "The Price is Right."  She wrote "Let's Make a Deal" on the answer card instead--and we lost those points.  Ah, what might have been....

The second-place team, CIA Black Sites (Thailand)

Of course, no visit from Chantalle would be complete without a visit to B&N.  If there is one component of our co-dependent relationship that never fails, it's the ability of each of us to talk the other into a bookstore visit.  This time it was my bad--I was the one who talked Chantalle into shopping for books.  But it was so worth it!!  I'm halfway through the latest Elizabeth Kostova book, Shadow Land, and I'm completely hooked.  Sometimes its nice to read something that has absolutely nothing to do with Jessie Benton Fremont.

Now its Sunday, and the weekend has been disappointing on the sports scene.  Yesterday, the Vol men lost to a team from a little school with a nun as its main cheerleader.  That nun pulled some strings, and the last three-point attempt from one of the Vols didn't go in the basket.  Then, last night, my man Donny Schatz had a terrible race from qualifying to a fourteenth place finish at the Stockton dirt track.  And now, as I watch the NASCAR race, the Toyotas are running away with things, and Elk Grove's Kyle Larson and Bakersfield's Kevin Harvick got into a scuffle that has trashed the hopes of the California boys to win in f'ing California.  #BadSports

I'm not really looking forward to the week ahead.  Things at the museum are just not that fun without Lindsey.  There's not a lot for me to do, so I really feel sort of useless.  But its only for three more months, so I'll make the best of it.

That's all there is to report from Knoxville.  Bye....

Progress and Retreat

This week was marked by progress in some ways and retreat in others. 

First, I began the week deep in the blues, as noted in my last blog.  Worries over my dissertation progress drove me crazy.  Finally, after much fretting, I had to force myself to simply open a new Word document and call it Prospectus (Draft).  Even that small step seemed like climbing a mountain to me.  Then, I took a second cautious step.  I cut-and-pasted a vignette from an earlier paper into the beginning of my prospectus.  Then a little more cutting-and-pasting, and I had a somewhat clumsy but serviceable draft of a few pages of Jessie biography.  I added a list of Jessie's written works, then my list of secondary sources.  By Friday afternoon, I had a quite a bit accomplished.  I went from weak and worrying to powerful and confident in the course of a few days--and it all began with just opening a new document.

As I made my list of Jessie's written works, I used lists compiled by one of her other biographers.  This included an article from Century magazine that I hadn't heard of before.  Endless minutes searching for this article online, using every trick in my bag.  The only mention of a copy of the article showed up in this list of books from a rare book settler as part of a published compilation.  I didn't see a website listed at first, but the seller had his telephone number available.  I called him--and he answered.  His phone was on three percent charge, so the first thing he had to do was to put his phone on the charger so he could talk to me.  Turns out, he had the compilation, plus another book on the history of Mariposa County (where the Fremont holdings, Las Mariposas, was located).  So, I quickly ordered these books.  Then, he checked around for any other books he might have about Jessie.  He remembered seeing a cookbook compiled as a fundraiser by some church ladies, and he noted that Jessie had written a little story in it.  This was something that neither of her previous biographers had found.  While this particular bookseller didn't have it, he checked with a colleague who does have it and sent me her contact info.  I was over the moon!  I'll be contacting her on Monday to see if this is something I can afford.  Let's keep our fingers crossed.

Friday evening was spent in the lovely company of Robert and Katie, colleagues and neighbors.  The world has never seen before such a gathering of West Wing nerds.  The way that many people can quote The Princess Bride or Blazing Saddles, Robert and I tried to outdo each other with quotes from West Wing.  A few beers, some snacks, and four episodes equaled a very good time.

The social whirl continued into Saturday with the arrival of Tennessee (now Indiana) BFF Chantalle.  It was sooooo good to see that girl again--although we talk on the phone every week.  Being us, we went to Calhoun's for dinner.  That burger and fries I had tasted like heaven!  Chantalle is right now on her way to Tampa, Florida, with her former roommate.  They'll be enjoying a little preseason Yankee's baseball before coming back to Knoxville about mid-week.  Hopefully, by next Saturday night, we'll be headed out to our beloved Cracker Barrel with some more of our classmates.

The upcoming week is Spring Break, but not for me.  I'm going to go in to work each morning, saving my time off for the end of May and beginning of June.  Yvette and I plan to travel with Maddie and Heidi to Boston for a few days toward the end of May.  Then it will be my usual visit home to Sacramento in time for Indy Breakfast at Reiner's house, complete with the best bacon ever cooked, biscuits and gravy, burgers and hot dogs, and swimming in his heated pool, regardless of the outside temperature.  Yum.  I can't wait.

Now for the retreat part.  On Friday afternoon, I'm alone in my office at McClung.  I'm on the lower floor, and outside my office are the Civil War, Evolution, and Fresh Water Mussels galleries.  I hear a man and two little kids coming down the stairs.  As they reach the bottom, I hear the father say, loudly, "I don't believe in that crap."  I know right away that he's talking about the Evolution gallery.  I then hear him tell the kids, both barely school age if at all, "there's some Civil War stuff" as they pass through the gallery dedicated to the Battle of Fort Sanders in Knoxville.  When they pass by my office on their way to the stairs again, I hear one of the kids ask if they can go in the room with "the monkey;" I assume this means one of the prehistoric figures in the Evolution gallery.  Again, the father proclaims, loudly enough now that I know he's doing it for my benefit, "I don't believe in that crap."  I looked up and out the door.  Its forty degrees outside, and this idiot is wearing a tank top.  The kids are so little, so impressionable.  For me, this dad represented everything that's wrong about American society right now.  The dumbing-down of our citizenry, the appeal to the lowest and most vulgar aspects of human nature, the distrust of everything that science has to tell us, the abject dismissal of education--this father was all of that.  It was pretty damn depressing.

Then I remembered the class I had the honor of working with earlier in the week.  An English class, I showed them objects relating to the eighteenth century, and they related them to the books of eighteenth-century fiction they were reading and to the history of the time.  These kids were smart, literate, imaginative; they are the future.  I feel badly for those little boys with their father, but I hope that they grow up to be the undergrads from the English class.  I hope their generation puts aside the abject wretchedness their parents are living.  I hope they reach for more.

For now, adios from Knoxville....

Sunday Afternoon in the Little Flat

Well, its another Sunday afternoon in the Tiny Flat in Knoxville.  The sun streams in from my sliding glass door, but it doesn't fool me.  It's cold as the dickens outside.  And Sunday is my day of rest.  I'm wearing my lounging jammies (thanks, Yvette), got tunes blaring out from my Bose speaker (an Yvette recommendation), and I'm surrounded by secondary sources (having nothing to do with Yvette).  The trouble with choosing a dissertation topic that's both been written on before and offers hundreds of written sources is the amount of secondary reading required.  But, on the bright side, it's allowing me to put off writing my prospectus until the last minute.  Yes, I'm that student, the one that waits until the hot breath of a deadline is tickling my neck before I tackle any hard writing.

Life moves swiftly these days here in my little corner of the world, but work at the museum has slowed way down.  Unfortunately, my boss, the incomparable Lindsey Gaharvi, has left her position to pursue a career as mom and wife and to finish her dissertation.  While the search goes on for a replacement, we're not doing much teaching.  It's too bad.

Moon over Neyland

I say that life goes quickly for me because of everything but my job.  It's been months since my comps, and I feel like I'm working like crazy but not really getting anywhere.  I guess it's time to talk about my topic.  I've chosen to write my dissertation on the amazing Jessie Benton Fremont.  Now, I can already hear some of you wondering what happened to my former topic, the development of grade school curriculum for the new public schools that arose in the South after the Civil War.  I guess Dr. F., my advisor, put it best when he asked me what I thought I'd find in such a study.  I would find exactly what I thought I'd find.  There's no mystery there, no new way of shedding light on the Lost Cause mythology and its spread through first the South and then the entire nation. 

Last spring, I took my second research-writing seminar, this time with Dr. F. and the last of my course requirements.   I chose as my topic Jessie Benton Fremont and the role she played in the 1856 presidential election.  See, for those of you who don't know, Jessie was the wife of John C. Fremont, the "Pathfinder" of the West and the first Republican candidate for the presidency (yes, he came before Abraham Lincoln!).  Jessie lived an extraordinary life.  The daughter of Missouri senator Thomas Hart Benton, Jessie was her father's pet, and he raised her the way he would have raised a son.  But, at age fifteen, Jessie met handsome John C. Fremont, and that was that.  In spite of parental efforts to stop the alliance, she eventually eloped with the explorer.  Their life together would be full of both dizzying success and pretty abject failure.  Through Jessie, I'll be able to explore several big themes that span the nineteenth century, including abolition, gender issues, the conquest of California, the Gold Rush, the Gilded Age, women writers, the rise of magazines, the establishment of  patriotic and hereditary organizations, politics, the Civil War--you name it, Jessie played a part.

Jessie at San Francisco in the 1850s

So, that's the topic.  There have been two major biographies published on Jessie since her death at the end of 1902.  Both biographers rely heavily on the records that Jessie herself left behind for them.  These records reflect the way Jessie wanted to be remembered.  But there's so much more to her story.  That's the part I want to uncover.  Not just the life she lived, but how she fit into the bigger picture. 

Usually, I'm much more enthusiastic about my subject, but that's not coming through in my blog writing today.  Probably because I'm just deep in the weeds right now, just trying to get a handle on this project.  And I worry about the project.  I worry about how I'll pay for all the research, how I'll handle all the travel that's going to be required, even what I'm going to do with my cat while I'm spending my days at various archives around the country.  I'm blue because I'm worried.

Smoke Stewart Dias Herbon

So, that's all I'm going to say on the subject for now.  I've got reading to do and notes to write.  Heavy sigh from here in Knoxville....