This is one of the most stunning essays I've read from you, Rona. Gorgeous, necessary. Reminding us of the proposition, of what's possible, and no, it's not a promise. But it could be if enough of us remember and re-up. I'm so grateful to you for this work today. I find it centering and bracing. May it spark new commitment in the hearts of so many of us who feel disillusioned, displaced, and scared. Thank you, Rona.
Nan, this comment means so much. Writing doesn't fix what's broken but can motivate readers to take heart and keep on doing what must be done, knowing they--we--are not alone.
In the autumn of 2013 I lived in Fredericksburg, VA - about a half mile from the Rappahannock River, near Telegraph Hill and the Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania National Military Park. The 150th anniversary of the Battle of Fredericksburg was coming up in December and there were events and demonstrations going on all over.
One morning I woke to a thick fog slowly giving way to the early sunshine, the scent of damp leaves and a hint of frost in the air. I'd fallen asleep with my windows open - and I'd been awakened by the sound of cannon fire, musket fire, and the vibrations felt all the way to my third floor apartment.
For a moment, in that not-fully-awake stage, I felt a surge of panic and fear - and when I sat up and realized what was going on, I thought about what it must have been like to have lived through it back then.
Those times when we're given a sense of the enormity of a slice of time are precious gifts and a charge to do better.
That moment impressed itself so firmly, I can still smell the air and see the misty sunlight hitting golden leaves outside my window. The cannon fire was one of those sounds whose vibrations you feel in your bones.
A beautiful moving piece, thanks Rona. I went back and reread the familiar words, noticing the places that caught your attention. You are so right, it isn't a promise, it is a challenge, requiring a high resolve. In my rereading I noticed too that he knows the challenge also requires increased devotion, a love to fuel that high resolve. Yesterday I went to the opening day of my grandson's local Little League baseball in East Altadena. Nearly a third of the kids from last year lost homes or can't yet return to their homes because of the damaging Eaton fire. Those still in the area were back and everyone was smiling as this piece of their life returned. Equipment lost in the fires have been replaced by donations from businesses, neighbors, other Little Leagues and local professional teams. I listened to the Star Spangled Banner with a new sense of the tension that Francis Scott Key felt as he watched through the night to see if the Fort McHenry and the US flag would survive the battle and your inspired walk through Lincoln's famous address inspires my hope and resolve that the flag, and the republic for which it stands, will survive.
Oh, those teenagers rolling on the grass and stomping on your stairs! This is beautiful in every way. The words of the mourner, not the orator. Yes, I hear them. Lincoln’s hand on the shoulder: I’m sobbing the way one does when a touch of sympathy finds a person grieving. I can’t read the future, but I know I want this reverence in it.
Beautiful, Rona. I've been to Gettysburg, and absolutely feel what you say. That speech is a miracle of brevity, heart, and clarity. I love that you call it a shaker chair of words. Perfect.
Once while killing time by myself in Georgia, I.drove to Andersonville, where thousands of Union soldiers had died in the infamous prison. Years ago I read the book Andersonville, the 1955 historical novel about the prison camp. The images, but not the author’s name, stuck with me. My side trip was almost happenstance. Like so many killing grounds, Gettysburg and Andersonville had been cleared long ago of its horrifying past. And like Gettysburg, Andersonville was but berms of grass, edged in trees. Thank you for recalling your memory and helping me recall mine.
Linda, I remember reading about Andersonville in LIFE magazine as a small child. The story probably appeared while the novel was in the public eye. There were archival photos that terrified me.
I don’t remember any of this history. But your comment spurred me to look into Andersonville. One paragraph in I found one of my ancestors from Michigan. With this personal connection I will not forget Andersonville. And will not stop fighting for our freedoms.
Wendy, what a shock. At least it was the galvanizing kind. I love to see commenters following the thread and branching out to learn more, as you’ve done here.
When I was in 6th grade (way back in 1984) we were invited to memorize the Gettysburg Address, and I too was taken by its cadences. Thank you for this invitation to revisit it in these challenging times under your keen eye. Lots to think about...
What a stunning timely piece Rona. My husband and I have been talking about the fact that there was once a civil war in America and it's feeling eerily like it could happen again. Hopefully peace and sanity prevails. Gettysburg is a telling reason why.
Thank you, Leanne. The threat of violence is real and rising, I fear. All the more reason to hold fast to words that center us and bind us to what matters most of all.
Stunning, as always, Rona. We went to Gettysburg many years ago and ended up taking a motel in town after spending the entire day wandering around, marveling. The experience was stirring and sad and beautiful. So unexpected.
The cemetery where Lincoln spoke those words is only a tiny part of the battlefield, but the weight of that war was there. I've written before about the impact those few words had on me, but you've found the true essence, and you've expressed it beautifully, especially in light of what's happening today.
I'm honored to share this. I hope it travels far and wide. ❤️
Ramona, I’d be honored if you would share this one, which is particularly close to my heart. I wish we had spent more time wandering and marveling, as you did, but experiencing what we did is one of my most stirring travel memories. I’m so glad this resonated with you.
Beautiful essay, Rona. I too, was smitten by the Gettysburg Address at first reading it. It is a sacred text, one of the most powerful in human history. In 2014, PBS released a Ken Burns-directed documentary, ‘The Address.’ It tells the story of a school in Vermont for boys with learning difficulties. The entire curriculum is built around the Gettysburg Address. The goal is for each boy to learn and recite the words for an audience of parents, teachers and students. It is a magnificent, moving film. I sobbed all the way through it. After reading your essay, I felt again that profound respect for each of those boys, who know the meaning of struggle. And I think of the boys who fought and died at Gettysburg and every other battle of the Civil War. It is hard to watch the shameful desecration of these lives that is being inflicted on our nation and the world. So grotesque and vile, almost beyond comprehension. Thank you for your eloquent words.
Thank you, Mary, for your appreciative understanding and also for mentioning the Burns documentary, which sounds terrific. I must see if I can track it down.
These times demand our full attention. Here’s what I remember. I am 13 or maybe 14 at Checkpoint Charlie in West Berlin. The guards on the other side are pointing their weapons in our direction from their posts in dilapidated buildings in the occupied east side. I have a photograph of me standing on a platform, looking more than a little distressed. As an adult, I am struck by the fact that my parents allowed my Cadette Girl Scout leaders to take me, by train under cover of darkness, through East Germany to Berlin. I believe the year is 1966. We tour the city, observing the barbed wire and the black wreaths on the wall that mark the places where people were killed trying to escape. Checkpoint Charlie is a small museum that also documents such brazen, unsuccessful attempts at freedom. Many years later, 1989, the wall comes down. More years follow and in 2003 the Wall Street Journal publishes my letter to the Editor, commenting on an article about the need for a memorial. My experience is vivid in my memory. While the Soviet Union was an ally in the fight against Hitler, make no mistake that the occupation in Germany led to the conquer of Eastern European countries. If Ukraine falls or is sacrificed, the threat of history repeating will be a dark stain exposing the ignorance of those who could have made a difference.
What a bleak and ominous journey for a Girl Scout Troop. I remember the world’s jubilation when the Wall came down. And now we are on tenterhooks for all the wrong reasons.
When we traveled from the west, where my father was stationed, it was at night and we were firmly instructed we must not raise the shades or peek out when in the east. I can imagine that after so many years it would be hard for the east to catch up. The current threat of withdrawal from NATO and uncertainty for the future with mass firings of DOD military and civilian workers feels quite surreal and disrespectful of what has gone before. Knowledge of history is severely lacking.
As I read your piece about Gettysburg, I am looking out at green grass, a perfect blue sky and the palm tree tops swaying slightly in the wind. In America. We are four visitors escaping the Canadian snow. There is no talk of politics, no displays of partisanship, no sign of ICE. Is this a proper counterpoint to the screaming headlines from back home? Or are we temporarily planted in a bubble of escapism? Perhaps both.
David, we used to spend winters in St. Petersburg, Florida, a blue town where we never sensed red politics. We’d be in the U.S. now if not for the illness and death of our dog, which forced us to cancel travel plans. Next winter we’ll seek warmth someplace else.
Rona, this post is both beautiful and also very sad. I fear that our republic is already lost and dead and that this happened some time ago. I’m not sure that I can say precisely when. The only question now is whether or not we Americans of every persuasion will call out to Almighty God to help us find and revive it. And my biggest fear is that we will not because we lack that necessary resolve.
We are also divided, which compounds the challenge. Although I’m not a person of faith, I do believe in something greater than myself. I hope we will all hold fast to that greater Something.
but Something has saved us before . . . at Valley Forge, at Gettysburg, at Pearl Harbor, on 9-11, and, by God’s Grace, even now. You and I are likely very different, Rona, in so many ways, but we are agreeing here. So I think that there’s still hope.
Our trip to Gettysburg in 2023 got extended once we arrived. As you say, it requires more than a quick visit. My Canadian husband had never been, in fact, knew only a smattering of the history, so I was called upon to interpret, so couldn't look away from the horror of what happened there and throughout that war. Now I'm going to go read Lincoln's words. Again. Thank you.
If not for a strategic blunder on the Confederate side, the war might have taken a different course. As for Lincoln's words, they refresh and reveal every time. Thank you for joining the conversation, Leslie Ann.
Ah, Rona. Such timely and inspiring words. I can't imagine a better example of hope generating from a piece of writing, a gem for Tara's forthcoming library, one that is appropriately heavy and precious. There are people saying that today's America lacks a voice of leadership like Lincoln's. I'm not sure that's true. What frightens me most is that we've forgotten how to see them when they appear. Thank you for sharing a beacon for modern times.
Elizabeth, you make me blush. I am honored. Lincoln was a master of language like no other president, but leaders of vision will emerge. Trump and Musk have all the rope they need to hang themselves.
This is one of the most stunning essays I've read from you, Rona. Gorgeous, necessary. Reminding us of the proposition, of what's possible, and no, it's not a promise. But it could be if enough of us remember and re-up. I'm so grateful to you for this work today. I find it centering and bracing. May it spark new commitment in the hearts of so many of us who feel disillusioned, displaced, and scared. Thank you, Rona.
Nan, this comment means so much. Writing doesn't fix what's broken but can motivate readers to take heart and keep on doing what must be done, knowing they--we--are not alone.
Thank you, my dear friend. You've given so many of us a gift of hope and clarity today.
In the autumn of 2013 I lived in Fredericksburg, VA - about a half mile from the Rappahannock River, near Telegraph Hill and the Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania National Military Park. The 150th anniversary of the Battle of Fredericksburg was coming up in December and there were events and demonstrations going on all over.
One morning I woke to a thick fog slowly giving way to the early sunshine, the scent of damp leaves and a hint of frost in the air. I'd fallen asleep with my windows open - and I'd been awakened by the sound of cannon fire, musket fire, and the vibrations felt all the way to my third floor apartment.
For a moment, in that not-fully-awake stage, I felt a surge of panic and fear - and when I sat up and realized what was going on, I thought about what it must have been like to have lived through it back then.
Those times when we're given a sense of the enormity of a slice of time are precious gifts and a charge to do better.
How disorienting that must have been, and yet how instructive. You’ve described this so beautifully, I am there.
That moment impressed itself so firmly, I can still smell the air and see the misty sunlight hitting golden leaves outside my window. The cannon fire was one of those sounds whose vibrations you feel in your bones.
A beautiful moving piece, thanks Rona. I went back and reread the familiar words, noticing the places that caught your attention. You are so right, it isn't a promise, it is a challenge, requiring a high resolve. In my rereading I noticed too that he knows the challenge also requires increased devotion, a love to fuel that high resolve. Yesterday I went to the opening day of my grandson's local Little League baseball in East Altadena. Nearly a third of the kids from last year lost homes or can't yet return to their homes because of the damaging Eaton fire. Those still in the area were back and everyone was smiling as this piece of their life returned. Equipment lost in the fires have been replaced by donations from businesses, neighbors, other Little Leagues and local professional teams. I listened to the Star Spangled Banner with a new sense of the tension that Francis Scott Key felt as he watched through the night to see if the Fort McHenry and the US flag would survive the battle and your inspired walk through Lincoln's famous address inspires my hope and resolve that the flag, and the republic for which it stands, will survive.
Thank you, Leslie. Good things become possible when people stand together, as they have done in East Altadena.
Oh, those teenagers rolling on the grass and stomping on your stairs! This is beautiful in every way. The words of the mourner, not the orator. Yes, I hear them. Lincoln’s hand on the shoulder: I’m sobbing the way one does when a touch of sympathy finds a person grieving. I can’t read the future, but I know I want this reverence in it.
Thank you, Tara, for reading this essay exactly as I hoped it would be read. Reverence doesn't fix anything, and yet it is a balm.
Beautiful! And I will pass it on to some of my elected officials, if that’s okay.
Great idea!
And done!
By all means, Rachel! Thank you.
Beautiful, Rona. I've been to Gettysburg, and absolutely feel what you say. That speech is a miracle of brevity, heart, and clarity. I love that you call it a shaker chair of words. Perfect.
Julie, thanks for the smile. I thought for a long time about that Shaker chair and am glad you noticed.
That, and the hands on the shoulders. BIG YES.
The suffering ahead will be brutal, without steadying presidential hands on any shoulders.
Yes, and we will steady each other with our own hands. ❤️
Once while killing time by myself in Georgia, I.drove to Andersonville, where thousands of Union soldiers had died in the infamous prison. Years ago I read the book Andersonville, the 1955 historical novel about the prison camp. The images, but not the author’s name, stuck with me. My side trip was almost happenstance. Like so many killing grounds, Gettysburg and Andersonville had been cleared long ago of its horrifying past. And like Gettysburg, Andersonville was but berms of grass, edged in trees. Thank you for recalling your memory and helping me recall mine.
Linda, I remember reading about Andersonville in LIFE magazine as a small child. The story probably appeared while the novel was in the public eye. There were archival photos that terrified me.
I don’t remember any of this history. But your comment spurred me to look into Andersonville. One paragraph in I found one of my ancestors from Michigan. With this personal connection I will not forget Andersonville. And will not stop fighting for our freedoms.
Wendy, what a shock. At least it was the galvanizing kind. I love to see commenters following the thread and branching out to learn more, as you’ve done here.
When I was in 6th grade (way back in 1984) we were invited to memorize the Gettysburg Address, and I too was taken by its cadences. Thank you for this invitation to revisit it in these challenging times under your keen eye. Lots to think about...
What a worthy exercise for sixth-graders. You and the words can keep growing together.
What a stunning timely piece Rona. My husband and I have been talking about the fact that there was once a civil war in America and it's feeling eerily like it could happen again. Hopefully peace and sanity prevails. Gettysburg is a telling reason why.
Thank you, Leanne. The threat of violence is real and rising, I fear. All the more reason to hold fast to words that center us and bind us to what matters most of all.
Stunning, as always, Rona. We went to Gettysburg many years ago and ended up taking a motel in town after spending the entire day wandering around, marveling. The experience was stirring and sad and beautiful. So unexpected.
The cemetery where Lincoln spoke those words is only a tiny part of the battlefield, but the weight of that war was there. I've written before about the impact those few words had on me, but you've found the true essence, and you've expressed it beautifully, especially in light of what's happening today.
I'm honored to share this. I hope it travels far and wide. ❤️
Ramona, I’d be honored if you would share this one, which is particularly close to my heart. I wish we had spent more time wandering and marveling, as you did, but experiencing what we did is one of my most stirring travel memories. I’m so glad this resonated with you.
Beautiful essay, Rona. I too, was smitten by the Gettysburg Address at first reading it. It is a sacred text, one of the most powerful in human history. In 2014, PBS released a Ken Burns-directed documentary, ‘The Address.’ It tells the story of a school in Vermont for boys with learning difficulties. The entire curriculum is built around the Gettysburg Address. The goal is for each boy to learn and recite the words for an audience of parents, teachers and students. It is a magnificent, moving film. I sobbed all the way through it. After reading your essay, I felt again that profound respect for each of those boys, who know the meaning of struggle. And I think of the boys who fought and died at Gettysburg and every other battle of the Civil War. It is hard to watch the shameful desecration of these lives that is being inflicted on our nation and the world. So grotesque and vile, almost beyond comprehension. Thank you for your eloquent words.
Thank you, Mary, for your appreciative understanding and also for mentioning the Burns documentary, which sounds terrific. I must see if I can track it down.
These times demand our full attention. Here’s what I remember. I am 13 or maybe 14 at Checkpoint Charlie in West Berlin. The guards on the other side are pointing their weapons in our direction from their posts in dilapidated buildings in the occupied east side. I have a photograph of me standing on a platform, looking more than a little distressed. As an adult, I am struck by the fact that my parents allowed my Cadette Girl Scout leaders to take me, by train under cover of darkness, through East Germany to Berlin. I believe the year is 1966. We tour the city, observing the barbed wire and the black wreaths on the wall that mark the places where people were killed trying to escape. Checkpoint Charlie is a small museum that also documents such brazen, unsuccessful attempts at freedom. Many years later, 1989, the wall comes down. More years follow and in 2003 the Wall Street Journal publishes my letter to the Editor, commenting on an article about the need for a memorial. My experience is vivid in my memory. While the Soviet Union was an ally in the fight against Hitler, make no mistake that the occupation in Germany led to the conquer of Eastern European countries. If Ukraine falls or is sacrificed, the threat of history repeating will be a dark stain exposing the ignorance of those who could have made a difference.
What a bleak and ominous journey for a Girl Scout Troop. I remember the world’s jubilation when the Wall came down. And now we are on tenterhooks for all the wrong reasons.
West Berlin was rebuilding and was strikingly modern in comparison. I am glad to have had the experience and rejoiced when the wall came down.
East Germany was pretty shabby when we were there 11 years ago. From what I hear, it still hasn’t caught up.
When we traveled from the west, where my father was stationed, it was at night and we were firmly instructed we must not raise the shades or peek out when in the east. I can imagine that after so many years it would be hard for the east to catch up. The current threat of withdrawal from NATO and uncertainty for the future with mass firings of DOD military and civilian workers feels quite surreal and disrespectful of what has gone before. Knowledge of history is severely lacking.
As I read your piece about Gettysburg, I am looking out at green grass, a perfect blue sky and the palm tree tops swaying slightly in the wind. In America. We are four visitors escaping the Canadian snow. There is no talk of politics, no displays of partisanship, no sign of ICE. Is this a proper counterpoint to the screaming headlines from back home? Or are we temporarily planted in a bubble of escapism? Perhaps both.
David, we used to spend winters in St. Petersburg, Florida, a blue town where we never sensed red politics. We’d be in the U.S. now if not for the illness and death of our dog, which forced us to cancel travel plans. Next winter we’ll seek warmth someplace else.
Rona, this post is both beautiful and also very sad. I fear that our republic is already lost and dead and that this happened some time ago. I’m not sure that I can say precisely when. The only question now is whether or not we Americans of every persuasion will call out to Almighty God to help us find and revive it. And my biggest fear is that we will not because we lack that necessary resolve.
We are also divided, which compounds the challenge. Although I’m not a person of faith, I do believe in something greater than myself. I hope we will all hold fast to that greater Something.
Amen.
It IS our only hope, I think . . .
but Something has saved us before . . . at Valley Forge, at Gettysburg, at Pearl Harbor, on 9-11, and, by God’s Grace, even now. You and I are likely very different, Rona, in so many ways, but we are agreeing here. So I think that there’s still hope.
Our trip to Gettysburg in 2023 got extended once we arrived. As you say, it requires more than a quick visit. My Canadian husband had never been, in fact, knew only a smattering of the history, so I was called upon to interpret, so couldn't look away from the horror of what happened there and throughout that war. Now I'm going to go read Lincoln's words. Again. Thank you.
If not for a strategic blunder on the Confederate side, the war might have taken a different course. As for Lincoln's words, they refresh and reveal every time. Thank you for joining the conversation, Leslie Ann.
Ah, Rona. Such timely and inspiring words. I can't imagine a better example of hope generating from a piece of writing, a gem for Tara's forthcoming library, one that is appropriately heavy and precious. There are people saying that today's America lacks a voice of leadership like Lincoln's. I'm not sure that's true. What frightens me most is that we've forgotten how to see them when they appear. Thank you for sharing a beacon for modern times.
Elizabeth, you make me blush. I am honored. Lincoln was a master of language like no other president, but leaders of vision will emerge. Trump and Musk have all the rope they need to hang themselves.