If I said "Niagara," you would probably think "Falls." If I said "Lake Erie," you would probably think "dang lake-effect snow." If I said "sailing," you would probably think "yacht." If I said "War of 1812," you would probably think "irrelevant history." Such have been many of my conversations of late regarding my newest hobby - volunteering on the US Brig Niagara. When I was young, I thought it was cool to be one of the few people who knew about Oliver Hazard Perry, the Battle of Lake Erie, and the Niagara. To be honest, nowadays I tend to be disappointed that no one seems to care about important stuff that happened in our nation's history. That's probably why I want to teach.
But I digress. Once upon a time America was at war with Britain because they wouldn't let us trade with France because they were preparing to be at war with Bonaparte and they didn't recognize our right to trade with whomever we want. It's called the War of 1812, sometimes "The Second Revolutionary War." In the midst of this war it became apparent that the British Navy needed to be stopped in the Great Lakes, but there was no one to do it... until Oliver Hazard Perry built a fleet out of Erie that won a really important battle that pretty much secured the American border and ultimately contributed to winning the war. The Niagara was Perry's flagship for the second half of the battle and his victory. She's kind of a big deal.
I know all of this because once upon a time, my father sailed on the Niagara as volunteer crew. After being retired off-and-on in Misery Bay, Presque Isle, for 160-odd years, she was fully rebuilt in 1988 and is now a sailing school vessel whose mission is to preserve the history of the War of 1812 in the Great Lakes as well as continue the tradition of square-rig sailing. Now I get to be part of that, because I am a member of the Flagship Niagara League, and I am now both a trainee and a maintenance volunteer for the rest of the winter.
I have made a few observations in my five week tenure as a Saturday maintenance trainee. For instance, keeping a ship in safe sailing shape is a heckalot of work, and most of it involves sanding and paint. I can't wait to graduate to tar and rope. Also, although I really do look forward to sailing in the summer, it is going to be a lot of work. I had intended to journal while I sailed, but it seems less and less credible to assume that I will have the time to do so. Also, the two-hour commute is surprisingly worth it every time.
Most of all, I believe that this experience will be an adventure the likes of which most of you have only read about (if that). It has been the story of my life to read about these sorts of things and spend very little time trying to find a way to do them, and yet here I am, tarring rope and painting yardarms. Maybe my new - yet ancient - adventure can inspire others to take part in the Niagara's mission, or even Nike's: just do it.
Updates (hopefully) to follow in the coming weeks.
Showing posts with label history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label history. Show all posts
1.03.2013
auld lang syne
It seems to me that we pay a lot of attention to the passage of time: years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes. They're all measured and counted, recorded in our planners, wall calendars, photographs and timelines. Sometimes we have parties for them, like birthdays and holidays.
For thirteen years now I have spent New Year's Eve with my family and our neighbors - we play board games, we play pranks, we eat seafood, and we gather around the television to watch the ball drop at Times Square. On the one hand, it's a night like any other because we are simply enjoying each other's company and renewing relationships that might have been strained by distance and time (especially for those of us in school). On the other hand, I can't help but wonder if it's something more. Or if it should be.
I don't know about you, but sometimes I have to wonder what it all means. What is the significance of a day passing, or a month? Or even a year - why does it matter that I know how many years I've been alive? Once upon a time I'm sure that it did, when months meant planting and harvesting, and each year passed was an achievement, something to be grateful for. But what does it mean now?
It has been my tradition to spend a significant portion of the week following Christmas journaling. It's not my normal style of journaling, where I wax philosophical and pretend that my stories are funny (you thought I only did that online, didn't you?). No, that week is about looking forwards and backwards, as if the stroke of midnight on the 31st is a street about to be crossed, and crossed safely.
Perhaps it is. You probably know the song Auld Lang Syne, which was written by Robert Burns in 1788. The song has a nostalgic quality that, for me, puts it up there with Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas when I want to be melancholy about the holidays. Both songs are about remembering what came before - the joy and the pain and the years gone by.
It wasn't until this year that I realized that Auld Lang Syne is about more than remembrance; in its solemn Scottish way, it is about hope for and confidence in the future. What I always imagined were statements: "If old acquaintances are forgot..." are actually questions: "Should old acquaintance be forgot?" It is a small difference, but it means everything to me, because the answer to the question is and should always be a resounding "No."
To answer that question of significance, I hope that I will learn to mark the passing of a year with solemnity and contentment, gratitude that recognizes that these days are gifts. I hope that I will not celebrate by force of habit, but because of real joy. I don't know about other holidays, but I hope that my new years are more like the questions in this song - times of remembrance, but also of making new memories. Who will I be in the year ahead? How can I honor the memory of those who were with us in the past? I want to learn to cross the street well.
For thirteen years now I have spent New Year's Eve with my family and our neighbors - we play board games, we play pranks, we eat seafood, and we gather around the television to watch the ball drop at Times Square. On the one hand, it's a night like any other because we are simply enjoying each other's company and renewing relationships that might have been strained by distance and time (especially for those of us in school). On the other hand, I can't help but wonder if it's something more. Or if it should be.
I don't know about you, but sometimes I have to wonder what it all means. What is the significance of a day passing, or a month? Or even a year - why does it matter that I know how many years I've been alive? Once upon a time I'm sure that it did, when months meant planting and harvesting, and each year passed was an achievement, something to be grateful for. But what does it mean now?
It has been my tradition to spend a significant portion of the week following Christmas journaling. It's not my normal style of journaling, where I wax philosophical and pretend that my stories are funny (you thought I only did that online, didn't you?). No, that week is about looking forwards and backwards, as if the stroke of midnight on the 31st is a street about to be crossed, and crossed safely.
Perhaps it is. You probably know the song Auld Lang Syne, which was written by Robert Burns in 1788. The song has a nostalgic quality that, for me, puts it up there with Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas when I want to be melancholy about the holidays. Both songs are about remembering what came before - the joy and the pain and the years gone by.
It wasn't until this year that I realized that Auld Lang Syne is about more than remembrance; in its solemn Scottish way, it is about hope for and confidence in the future. What I always imagined were statements: "If old acquaintances are forgot..." are actually questions: "Should old acquaintance be forgot?" It is a small difference, but it means everything to me, because the answer to the question is and should always be a resounding "No."
To answer that question of significance, I hope that I will learn to mark the passing of a year with solemnity and contentment, gratitude that recognizes that these days are gifts. I hope that I will not celebrate by force of habit, but because of real joy. I don't know about other holidays, but I hope that my new years are more like the questions in this song - times of remembrance, but also of making new memories. Who will I be in the year ahead? How can I honor the memory of those who were with us in the past? I want to learn to cross the street well.
11.26.2012
code name verity: definitely a book review
In a world where young adult books and media are filled with romance, angst and sex, I was in search of an "easy" read to kickstart my fiction reading for 52x52, and I wisely approached my good friend Anna for a recommendation to help me avoid being dragged into another Twilight experience. Somehow in my teen years I skipped right over the young adult fiction section of our library in favor of high fantasy and historical adult fiction, with the exception of that unfortunate saga, and I am wary of wandering in that direction without assistance. True to form, Anna was most helpful - I was given my choice of seven books, each with its own unique recommendations and warnings. Being in a thoughtful mood, I gamely selected the volume associated with "beautiful friendship" and "deep emotional trauma." It was that, and so much more.
Elizabeth Wein's code name verity is the first person narrative of a British intelligence officer caught in German-occupied France in the throes of WWII. Knowing that a bullet to the head is the most likely end to her time with the Gestapo, and in order to avoid (or at least lessen) the torture inflicted on her, she agrees to write down everything she knows of the British War Effort, although not quite in the way her antagonists might expect. Doing justice to the literary traditions she loves, the story she weaves is full to overflowing with love, joy, sorrow, and pain... and a deep, abiding friendship that comes more fully to life with each successive page.
If I tell you any more, I will have said far too much. The first reason I loved this book was because it gave me new insight into the European arena of World War II, in part because it was a woman's perspective, but also because of its attention to geography. In this book, as in the war, more than winning and losing are at stake; the enemy threatens the very things that make us human, and casts a pall over the glory and beauty of the country it invaded first: Germany.
Anna was right - emotional trauma is the best way to describe the experience, but not in a depressing way. Wein's writing is open and honest; her characters' personality and pain are intertwined on the page, and are a reflection of the hope and pain combined in the allied forces whose job it was to fight the Nazi regime. And all of it is made possible through the breathtakingly poignant story of two girls who had the sense to realize that they had met their best friend.
And they make a sensational team.
As an aside, I hope I don't insult anyone by saying that I wish Suzanne Collins had given her brilliant idea for the Hunger Games books to Elizabeth Wein, because code name verity accomplished everything that the Hunger Games promised but failed to deliver in terms of emotional impact, character development, and cultural critique.
Elizabeth Wein's code name verity is the first person narrative of a British intelligence officer caught in German-occupied France in the throes of WWII. Knowing that a bullet to the head is the most likely end to her time with the Gestapo, and in order to avoid (or at least lessen) the torture inflicted on her, she agrees to write down everything she knows of the British War Effort, although not quite in the way her antagonists might expect. Doing justice to the literary traditions she loves, the story she weaves is full to overflowing with love, joy, sorrow, and pain... and a deep, abiding friendship that comes more fully to life with each successive page.
If I tell you any more, I will have said far too much. The first reason I loved this book was because it gave me new insight into the European arena of World War II, in part because it was a woman's perspective, but also because of its attention to geography. In this book, as in the war, more than winning and losing are at stake; the enemy threatens the very things that make us human, and casts a pall over the glory and beauty of the country it invaded first: Germany.
Anna was right - emotional trauma is the best way to describe the experience, but not in a depressing way. Wein's writing is open and honest; her characters' personality and pain are intertwined on the page, and are a reflection of the hope and pain combined in the allied forces whose job it was to fight the Nazi regime. And all of it is made possible through the breathtakingly poignant story of two girls who had the sense to realize that they had met their best friend.
And they make a sensational team.
*****
As an aside, I hope I don't insult anyone by saying that I wish Suzanne Collins had given her brilliant idea for the Hunger Games books to Elizabeth Wein, because code name verity accomplished everything that the Hunger Games promised but failed to deliver in terms of emotional impact, character development, and cultural critique.
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