All Saints Sunday

One of my favorite treasures on display at our home right now: Gram in 1946 (l), Pap and Gram circa 1987 (c), and Pap in his Army uniform. 

My church has a fine tradition of displaying photographs of loved ones who have passed away throughout our sanctuary on All Saints Sunday. I don't have any of my loved ones there (I guess it's always felt like more of a celebration of the congregation's saints). We are, however, in temporary possession of the portraits that used to be in my late grandmother's home of her, Pap, and the two of them. I decided that Martin should keep them company on this day.

There are two photos, though, that I'm particularly grateful to have on display. One is of the congregation's late pastor Bob Hyson. I never met him, though I owe him a great deal for his leadership to the congregation before we arrived. Also, he's the late husband of our neighbor and friend. Another photo, though, caught my eye and that is of Paul Ferla, an area businessman who was co-founder of the band that brings me such joy.

A saint I never met, but to whom I'm grateful. 

There are a few traditions at our church in which we ought to take particular pride. I look forward to seeing this one in action each and every November.

History

I see the enormous amount of time between my last two posts. Goodness gracious.

When I started this blog years ago I did so mostly to opine on things political and economic. Alas, that realm has dispirited me so much in the last year, I haven't felt moved to write much. And I still don't. The newspaper has lost its thrill for me right now, the tone and tenor of our politics is so wrecked. I'll still vote, though, Tuesday.

It was also about this time last year that I had to make a call on continuing my participation as part of church leadership, something that was draining me quite a great deal. The mounting stress of that coincided with a call from an old friend wondering if I wanted to embark on a second historical adventure: the adventure that culminated in my Memorializing the Fallen work. I almost said no to that, citing the pressures with my church work.

Then I realized I needed to go intellectually and spiritually where I felt joy. So I said yes to the adventure and stepped away from the governance at church.

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The marker for a veteran of the U.S. Colored Troops at Arlington. I could tell you more why I place this image here, but there's only so much time right now. 

I have so much to be grateful for, namely in the constants in my life. Family continues to bless me. My work continues to provide. Music remains a constant joy, especially at church.

Going back to history, though, was a choice as to how I would channel my intellectual and spiritual energies. The intellectual part of that might be obvious, but spiritual . . . Well I guess that's why I'm moved to write on today, All Saints Sunday.

My historical work has brought me back to study of the World Wars and Korea. It's heightened my awareness of how we memorialize the dead and the causes for which they fight. It's led me on odysseys that fill me with wonder and has empowered me to share what I have learned, an ability to articulate ideas that are historical and aesthetic and spiritual, in ways I didn't anticipate just a few years ago.

So I find myself on this All Saints Sunday grateful for the constant sources of joy in my life as well as for the chance I had to shift focus in the past year.

Kilroy, hidden on the aft side of the National World War II Memorial, Washington, DC. 

A Day in the Life of a Historian

Yesterday, a Saturday in November, saw me doing some things I normally don't do on a typical Saturday.

After waking up early to grade research papers (after all, a historian has to pay the bills, doesn't he?) I traveled with a friend to my sister's museum for their annual diner day. Diner day at Boyertown Museum of Historical Vehicles is a marvelous little event. After paying for admission to the museum, one can get pie and coffee at 1940s prices in the trolley-car-style diner which is housed at the museum.

Pie, coffee, and diners as far as one can see. 

I guess it helps that pie and coffee are the only menu items . . . the items are staged for quick service. 

Note the announcement of Eastern War Time hours.

A new car on exhibit: a 1930s Chrysler in a beautiful shade of green. 

On temporary exhibit: a World War I army truck. 

The turnout was rather robust. And one photo I got looking down the counter made it seem like a shift had just let out at the factory across the street.

In the middle of the afternoon I launched the first attempt at a new community service and learning project a the national cemetery near my school.

Gold Star Family Memorial at Washington Crossing National Cemetery. 

Victor's grave marker. I researched his life as part of my Memorializing the Fallen work last summer. 

On the return from Washington Crossing I stumbled upon this marker to a famous (or maybe infamous) moment in history. I told my students to be on the lookout for it, and to take a selfie of them upon finding it.

At the site of a real steal. 

Memorializing the Walking Purchase of 1737.

My last historical episode was playing a board game that recalls the early 1960s of New York. It's a quick version of Ticket to Ride, so quick we were able to play three games (and we each won one).

Not necessarily a relaxing day, and certainly one propelled by an unhealthy quantity of coffee, but a  good one nonetheless.