"Roundheads and Ramblings"
How Green is Your
only two real holidays, both of them commonly associated with the color
green. The first day of Spring comes in
March, and we have every reason to expect the world to turn green. In Memphis, though, you can't count on
that. Statistically, it is as likely to
snow on March 20 as on any day of winter. If the neighborhood does not turn not white
from snow in March, the Bradford pear trees will produce enough white blossoms
to make it look like snowfall. At the same time, the wonderful old post oaks in
the south grow long fuzzy catkins in the Spring, and they are capable of
producing enough pollen paint your car yellow if you park under one. Green will
simply have to wait.
dependable signs of Spring are the migrations.
Our little juncos and red-winged blackbirds will be heading north, along
with those other snow-birds, the folks from along the U. S./Canada border, who
have been keeping warm in Florida all winter. You'll see them on the
interstate, chugging along in their overloaded motor homes. Another migration path leads south in March –
northern college students on Spring Break.
You'll want to avoid them on the highways, too. There will be a vertical migration as
well. Do you want to know how close
Spring really is? Check to see how far
down in the dirt you have to dig to find an earthworm. Their migrations may only cover a distance of
six inches or so, but when they start to stick their wormy little heads up in
your garden, Spring is definitely here.
If you are Irish, or want an excuse to behave
like an Irishman, you'll want to deck yourself out in the brightest green
outfit you can find on March 17th. Just
one word of warning. When I was a kid,
my Scotch-Irish mother boasted to me that her family came from Northern
Ireland, where the people were Orangemen (supporters of the 18-century
Protestant claimant to the English throne, William of Orange). So I went off to school proudly wearing my
new tangerine-colored sweater on March 17. Not a good idea!
St. Patrick's Day? If you happen to be
in New England, you may notice that small towns dye their rivers green for the
day. In Memphis, you can drop by Silky
Sullivan's down on Beale Street and have
a green beer. Everyone you meet will
claim to come from Ireland. And you'll
need to be up-to-date on your knowledge of all things Irish, like blarney
stones, leprechauns and shamrocks.
St. Patrick was real enough, although he was a
pagan, came from Wales rather than Ireland, and was named Maewyn. His first trip to Ireland occurred when he
was captured by Irish marauders and carried off as a slave at the age of
16. After 6 years, he escaped and made
his way to Auxerre in Gaul, where he studied at a monastery and adopted
Christianity. He returned to Ireland as
a bishop and spent some 30 years fighting with the local Druids and converting
the population to Christianity.
it that he drove the snakes out of Ireland.
True enough, there are no snakes there.
But, then, there never have
been. The island broke away from the
continent well before the last Ice Age, and snakes never managed to make the
swim to re-establish themselves. My
guess is that when Patrick promised to drive the snakes out of Ireland, he was
actually casting an ugly slur on the Druids, who were pagan priests – "the
are also problematic. We all know what
they look like – about three feet tall, old and ugly, with pointed ears and a
pointed cap to match. They smoke
long-stemmed pipes, make shoes, and hide pots of gold under rainbows. They are
anti-social, tricksters, thieves, and creators of mayhem in the middle of the
night. They like to get drunk on a
homebrew called poteen and as a result usually have pink-tipped noses. There are no female leprechauns, but I'm not
going to touch the problem of how they make new baby leprechauns! They are associated with St. Patrick because
they are elves and therefore join the group of folks Patrick wanted to run out
of the island. Patrick's connection with
shamrocks is better-grounded in fact. He
used the native three-leafed plant to explain the nature of the Trinity and adopted
the shamrock as his badge. Despite the pictures you'll see, leprechauns probably
do not hide under shamrocks.
There is a
real Blarney Stone, and Irish legend says that if you kiss it, you will be
rewarded with the gift of eloquence. The
stone itself is located on the third story of Blarney Castle, just northwest of
the village of Cork. To kiss the stone,
you must sit with your back to it, lean backwards (with someone holding your
feet), and lower your head down a crack between two stone walls. They tell me there are iron rails to hold
onto, but I think I'd rather just remain green with envy for those who speak
with honeyed tongues.
One hundred fifty years ago today —on April 9, 1865 — Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee surrendered his army to Union Gen. Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox Court House in Virginia. The long Civil War was finally over, although its effects would last much longer — in fact, right down to today. The anniversary has started me on a path of reminiscing about my own last ten years.
I started writing about the Civil War in 2004 — not because of any anniversary, but simply because I had retired from teaching, and for the first time in 20 years, I had the freedom to write about what interested me, rather than about the no-less-interesting but more pressurized medieval history that would determine my success or failure as an academic.
I had a family story to tell. My great uncle had actually served in the Civil War, and I had inherited a small bundle of his letters. I wanted to write the story of Sgt. James McCaskey before those letters crumbled into dust. And so I started on a little manuscript that would become a full-size book. My first publisher urged me to “get on with it,” pointing out that the sesquicentennial of the Civil War would start in 2011, and I could be “in on the ground floor” if I had a book or two finished by the start of the celebration.
That was the start of my new writing career. A Scratch with the Rebels
was published in 2007. It was straight military history, a documentary account of the first year of the war and the experiences of the 100th Pennsylvania Regiment. It wasn’t a particularly good book, but it appealed to the descendants of the men of that regiment, and they helped to publicize it. Today it’s still in print and into a second edition, thanks to a far-sighted publisher. (In fact, the first edition is on sale for 30% off today to celebrate the end of the war! Click Here
Then I took the same set of events and told the story from the point of view of the regimental nurse, who had barely been mentioned in the first book. Beyond All Price
came out in 2010 and fulfilled the promise suggested by that first publisher. As interest in the Civil War ramped up, so did interest in the second book and by August of 2011, it became a run-away Kindle best seller, staying at the top of its category for several weeks and earning enough money to force me to hire an accountant.
That’s all I intended to do, really, but I soon realized that the Civil War was too deeply embedded in my soul to let the observation of its sesquicentennial pass without me. So there followed a series of books, tied closely to the actual dates of the war. In 1862, a band of missionaries arrived in South Carolina to help educate the slaves who had been left behind when their owners fled from the invasion of the Union Army. By November of 1862, one woman had established the first black school. In November 2012, I published the story of Laura Towne in The Road to Frogmore.
Stories about other fascinating people began to appear more frequently in the next couple of years as celebrations of the Emancipation Proclamation and the “Day of Jubilee” spread through the academic world. In 2013 I added Left by the Side of the Road
— a book of short stories that featured several of the more prominent African Americans who made their mark in 1863 and beyond. Gen. Sherman began to organize his “March to the Sea” in late 1864, and in 2014, I published my first historical novel, Damned Yankee
, set directly in Sherman’s path.
And now? Now that the Sesquicentennial has come to an end? Am I finished as well? No, there are still stories to be told. I’m working on a sequel to Damned Yankee — one that is set in the period of Reconstruction immediately after the war. Yesterday, as I reached the end of a chapter, a Freedman had a chance to speak his mind. I didn’t mean the words to be prophetic, but Hector sums up where I — and my new book —are at the moment:
“In time? In time we’ll all be dead. Look, Jonathan, I respect your position, but the simple truth is that most black men are no better off now than they were under slavery. We may be free, and we may even have the right to vote, but nobody’s offering much help when it comes to having a right to eat. The great promise of land didn’t last long, did it? And while the Black Codes may be gone, the land is still in the hands of white men. If we want to work the land, we have to become sharecroppers, which means doing whatever the white man says. We have to borrow money from white men to buy food, and our seeds and farm tools, and then when our crop comes in, we have to give it to the white man to pay what we owe him. So we’re stuck in poverty and beholden to the same men who were once our masters. That’s why I’m still in South Carolina. Someone has to fight back. The war may be over for you, but for me, it’s just beginning.”
So stay tuned. The Civil War may be over, but the fight goes on.
There's been an interesting controversy on the Internet about that question. Among the participants have been Richard Dawkins, an atheist and evolutionary biologist: several followers of Sylvia Plath's writings; one or two offended Christians; and a few medieval historians whose academic training has exposed them to as much history of religion as most theologians ever receive. [I leave it to you to decide where I fall in that august crowd.]
Most scholars believe that Easter gets its name from Eostre or Ostara, a Germanic pagan goddess. English and German are two of the very few languages that use some variation of the word Easter (or, in German, Ostern) as a name for this holiday. Most other European languages use one form or another of the Latin name for Easter, Pascha, which is derived from the Hebrew Pesach, meaning Passover. In French it’s Pâques, in Italian it’s Pasqua, in Dutch it’s Pasen, in Danish it’s Paaske, in Bulgarian it’s Paskha, and so on and so forth.
In the Christian Bible, Jesus returned to Jerusalem from his forty days in the desert just before Passover. In fact, in the Gospel according to John, Jesus was killed on the day before the first night of Passover, at the time when lambs were traditionally slaughtered for the Passover feast (because Jesus was the Lamb of God, etc. – SYMBOLISM, Y’ALL). There are a few differing accounts of when Jesus actually died, but most Christian texts, philosophers and scholars agree that it was around the time of Passover. Easter is still celebrated the week after Passover, which is why it’s a different day each year, because the Jewish calendar is lunar rather than solar.
Her symbols (like the egg and the bunny) were and still are fertility and sex symbols (or did you actually think eggs and bunnies had anything to do with the resurrection?).
Actually, according to Jacob Grimm’s Deutsche Mythologie, which he wrote after journeying across Germany and recording its oral mythological traditions, the idea of resurrection was part and parcel of celebrating the goddess Ostara:
“Ostara, Eástre seems therefore to have been the divinity of the radiant dawn, of upspringing light, a spectacle that brings joy and blessing, whose meaning could be easily adapted by the resurrection-day of the Christian’s God. Bonfires were lighted at Easter and according to popular belief of long standing, the moment the sun rises on Easter Sunday morning, he gives three joyful leaps, he dances for joy … Water drawn on the Easter morning is, like that at Christmas, holy and healing … here also heathen notions seems to have grafted themselves on great Christian festivals. Maidens clothed in white, who at Easter, at the season of returning spring, show themselves in clefts of the rock and on mountains, are suggestive of the ancient goddess.”
Spring is a sort of resurrection after all, with the land coming back to life after lying dead and bare during the winter months. To say that ancient peoples thought otherwise is foolish, naïve and downright uninformed. Many, many pagan celebrations centre around the return of light and the rebirth of the land; these ideas are not new themes in the slightest.
And yes, rabbits and eggs are fertility symbols, and they are, in fact, associated with Eostre.
Look. Here’s the thing. Our Western Easter traditions incorporate a lot of elements from a bunch of different religious backgrounds. You can’t really say that it’s just about resurrection, or just about spring, or just about fertility and sex. You can’t pick one thread out of a tapestry and say, “Hey, now this particular strand is what this tapestry’s really about.” It doesn’t work that way; very few things in life do.
The fact is that the Ancient Romans were smart when it came to conquering. In their pagan days, they would absorb gods and goddesses from every religion they encountered into their own pantheon; when the Roman Empire became Christian, the Roman Catholic Church continued to do the same thing, in a manner of speaking.
And do you know why that worked so well? Because adaptability is a really, really good trait to have in terms of survival of the fittest (something I wish the present-day Catholic Church would remember). Scratch the surface of just about any Christian holiday, and you’ll find pagan elements, if not a downright pagan theme, underneath.
Know what else? Most Christians know this. Or, at least, most of the Christians that I’m friends with (which is, admittedly, a fairly small sampling). They know that Jesus wasn’t really born on December 25th, and they know that there were never any actual snakes in Ireland, and they know that rabbits and eggs are fertility symbols. But they don’t care, because they realize that religions evolve and change and that that’s actually a good thing, not a bad thing. The fact that many Christian saints are just re-imagined pagan gods and goddesses doesn’t alter their faith one iota; because faith isn’t about reason or sense, it’s about belief.
"Are we going to get a new book soon?" It's an often-repeated question, one that delights an author: (My readers want more!) and terrifies her: (Oh, no, I'm still stuck in chapter 15!) Right now the "stuck" part is really bothering me. I'm not usually subject to writer's block. But as many of you know, my husband died in January, and I'm finding it almost impossible to move past my own grief to think about the imaginary problems of my book characters.
To counteract the problem, I've told you all about those characters, but I can't make them come alive for me yet. So I'm trying now to focus on some of the issues and problems that will face them as the story moves forward. The period of Reconstruction is not a well-known or well-understood one. I remember the term from history classes, but little of the details. I know the lurid crises that arise -- the birth of the Ku Klux Klan, the lynchings, the street riots -- but not a whole lot about the underlying causes. So what does an old teacher do in a situation like that? She turns to the experts and takes a class.
No, really! Thanks to the miracles of modern technology, there are thousands of college-level classes available on the internet, and I recently stumbled upon one called "The Civil War and Reconstruction - 1865-1890," taught by a renowned historian, Eric Foner, of Columbia University. His lectures are broken down into small segments (10-15 minutes) with breaks for a quick one-question quiz, a look at accompanying illustrations, or examination of primary source documents. Longer, 5-question quizzes wrap up each major topic.
I'm learning a lot, although obviously not enough. My quiz scores (for the sake of complete transparency) have been 90, 80, and 100 -- not bad but an embarrassing B+ in my own grade book. Despite that, I'm really enjoying the experience. In one of today's segments, Dr. Foner mentioned a Northern general and abolitionist who worked with the Freedmen's Bureau in South Carolina. Anyone want to guess? Raise your hands. Yes! General Rufus Saxton (complete with photograph) jumped out at me, straight from the pages of "The Road to Frogmore." Maybe I know more about this stuff than I thought.
Hang around and I'll share some of my other discoveries with you as the course progresses.