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....