A Frenchman quoting something from Chinese tradition assessing U.S. politics

Alexis de Tocqueville 

Maureen Dowd wrote an op-ed framed by an interview with an outgoing French diplomat. In it, she quotes the diplomat invoking a Chinese proverb:

‘When the finger is showing the moon, the fool is looking at the finger and the wise man at the moon.'

Hmmm. Seems like it was written for me. I've been busy looking at our president giving us a finger. What is he pointing at?


His success in the last election seemed to pivot on promises, some of them quite vague, to gut Obamacare, stop illegal immigration from Latin America, improve trade with China and others who were trying to bilk us, and . . . uh . . . oh, and lock up Hillary.


Tax cuts. Yes, that's right, there were promises of tax cuts.


There was something about making America great again in there too.


A critical mass of people felt something important in those promises. That's the moon I guess. That many Americans saw in these promises a balm for what was wounding them.


I can't help but observe, though, that many of those who supported him have nothing to lose with some of those promises. Those on Medicare don't need to worry about the consequences of gutting Obamacare. Citizens have no worry about being deported in a crackdown on illegal immigrants. Whether or not Hillary goes to jail won't affect anyone's well being aside from the accused. What's there to lose by trying to reclaim some nostalgic yesteryear?


The other promises might not fit with this theme so well.


There might be something to this asymmetry between what constituents could lost, what skin was in the game, and what one looked for in the promises made by this candidate.


I need to think on this some more.

Triumph of the Dead

Signal monument at Omaha Beach. 

I shared a long car ride with a relatively new friend who posed this question to me:

"When did you know you loved history?"

I had no answer. I don't remember a time when I wasn't aware of my love for history.

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This week marked the final webinar for my upcoming World War II trip. For about five months in a row we committed to reading a book then meeting online to discuss what we had read. Since each of us have been on trips of this sort, the reading list was a fairly advanced one, with titles on World War II I hadn't heard of before.

Except for our last one, Triumph of the Dead. I heard of it because the author presented to our Normandy '17 group while she was finishing her work on it. It was published this summer. The book explores the meaning behind (and controversies of) our World War II cemeteries in France. Reading it made me feel like I was back in my methods class at Gettysburg. It was a book that made me grateful for all the formal training I had in history more than two decades ago. I could appreciate it as a work of history and hang in there with the discussion of aesthetics and design. I could see angles with which I might disagree and avenues worthy of further research. The book has added to my list of places to experience when I go overseas.

Lemay's presentation on it back in 2017 set my Normandy Institute scholar and I on an amazing odyssey. It sparked Lauren's interest in writing an outstanding paper on the repatriation of the dead. It permitted the two of us to be more conscious of what we were seeing in a cemetery or memorial. It enabled me with the gifts to articulate what we see at a cemetery or memorial when I'm with students or adults.

World War II is an era about which I can keep reading and not find myself fatigued with the topic. It's the first topic in history to draw my passions. It's the topic to which I find myself returning in my middle age. It's the topic that might give me chances to continue researching even after my time with these institutes come to a close.

- - -

The book does give some explanation for the memorials I saw in France that captivated me so much. They're called Signal Monuments, and they were an attempt by the French government to memorialize the fighting in Normandy. Like the American monuments and cemeteries, the design of these Signal Monuments is somewhat asynchronous with the design trends of their age. They also reflect a conflicted view of they French as they tried to create memory of the battles for Normandy, conflicted as the American cemeteries were certain (and in some senses blunt).

Easter 2019

Easter 2019 has come and gone. It had more meaning for me this year. A little bit sad, though, in that Caroline suffered from a rather profound stomach bug. It left her bed- and couch-ridden for much of the weekend. Though that hampered our movement for the weekend, it did force us to slow down. Sherry completed some scrapbooking. I took some naps (in fairness, my break from work was very short . . . just Good Friday).

I was involved a lot at church, which is somewhat normal for me now at Easter. But the variety of music was quite good and the tone of worship was a good balance between special but still authentic. I'm benefiting, also, from the confidence and comfort that comes from finding one's true niche in a church community.

It was the first Easter, though, since my grandmother passed away. The pastor at her funeral warned us that we would miss her at unexpected times, and Easter proved to be one of those moments. A few years ago, conversation with her prompted me to look up what exactly the Paschal full moon has to do with determining the date of Easter in a given year. In my youth, Easter was typically spent at her house, and she threatened that there would be no Easter dinner if we didn't go to worship. Her little Methodist church usually sang "Jesus Christ is Risen Today," and her voice didn't lend itself particularly well to the Alleluia that ends each line of that hymn. But I certainly associate peanut butter-filled chocolate eggs with the holiday, something she enjoyed making for us. And I was grateful that my mom found a way to obtain some for our family gathering yesterday.

an egg

When I got older, I became more involved in music at my church, which meant an end to trips up to Mill Hall for Easter. But there was usually a phone call. Or she would be with us for Easter day itself. Weather wouldn't prohibit her from visiting either Mom or Uncle Larry for this holiday like it might keep her from visiting at Christmas or during one of our birthdays.

So there was a pang this year, a pang that came from missing someone who wasn't present. A pang that came from knowing there was one phone call I didn't need to make. About a year ago is when her health began to decline dramatically. I was lucky to have had a grandmother with me for my first forty-two Easter Sundays.

Mourning a Loss

I was all set to write a stirring post today (on Tax Day!), but the tragedy in Paris today makes my botherings seem rather inconsequential. We lost a towering monument to civilization and God today. Some days it is best to mourn what has been lost and to contemplate the scars of that loss.

Besides, the news tomorrow might bear out that the damage isn't as bad as thought, or that rebuilding might be more possible than the photo from the New York Times above would suggest.