I Hate Pa Ingalls the Most, but Laura Might Hate Ma

Schoolhouse from the time that we visited the Ingalls' homestead in De Smet, South Dakota.

The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Because if she doesn’t, then why is she always painting her as such a bigot? We all know by now that Ma hates the native peoples from whom the government stole the land they’re living on, so we’re not surprised by this iteration on that theme:

“What Indian?” Ma asked him. She looked as if she were smelling the smell of an Indian whenever she said the word. Ma despised Indians. She was afraid of them, too.

We know that Laura does not share this particular bigotry, or at least not to the extent that Ma does, both because she sometimes portrays native peoples positively in her books, but also because she portrays Pa as explicitly NOT bigoted against them. Pa is her ideal, and I can’t think of a single instance in the entire series in which he’s portrayed in a way that Laura would think was negative.

Ma, however… Ma is also bigoted against immigrants!

She did not like to see women working in the fields. Only foreigners did that. Ma and her girls were Americans, above doing men’s work.

But then, of course, Ma “lets” Laura help Pa with haying regardless, as long as nobody sees them, because Laura is the most parentified child in all the land.

This latest re-read of The Long Winter, just after finishing the non-fiction book The Children’s Blizzard that discusses the climate in the Dakota Territory and how unsuited it is to the settlers’ farming techniques and lifestyles and how especially dangerous it is in the winter, was startling. I had not remembered exactly HOW dark this book is, how bleak, how close to dying this family genuinely must have come, how these several months of starvation must have harmed them, physically and emotionally, for the rest of their lives. Grace was a toddler who spent seven months living in two rooms, being constantly too cold, and eating mostly wheat and a little fat. Carrie was only ten. Laura was only thirteen. Laura doesn’t mention rickets or scurvy or other signs of malnutrition, but I think historical record tells the tale well enough, in that all three younger sisters died of diabetes, while Mary died of a stroke.

Ever since I read Prairie Fires and have started learning all I can about the VERY contentious relationship between Laura and Rose, and the subtext of Laura’s relationship with Almanzo, I’ve been very interested in how Laura depicts her family in her books. She wrote these books in conversation with Rose, so I’m curious if any of these depictions might have anything to say about their relationship. She wrote them as fiction, but sometimes only lightly fictionalized, so I’m also curious about what she might have tried to tell more truthfully and what she might have fictionalized harder. And because she had SUCH a difficult relationship with Rose, and because Rose so clearly did not like Laura, I’m very curious about how Laura depicts Ma, in particular. I think she mostly wants to treat her as a perfect parent, but she does show her with flaws.

Other than the bigotry, Laura also depicts Ma’s impatience a couple of times, along with her own. Mary is never depicted as impatient or rude, but Laura cleverly manages to write all of Mary’s dialogue as the smuggest, most mealy-mouthed, annoyingly know-it-all declarations so that you want to just step in and slap her face for Laura. Carrie is depicted in not an idealized light like Pa, but rather a sympathetic light that reads as even more loving than Laura’s constant Pa praising, and Grace simply exists. I don’t think Grace and Laura ever interact in this book!

I also think it’s very interesting how Laura depicts herself. She’s very dutiful, always ready to chip in and do more than her fair share of labor, ever the hardest worker in the family, but I don’t feel her taking a lot of pleasure in anything. Which is fair, since this IS The Long Winter. But other books, particularly the ones that I think are more influenced by Rose’s Libertarianism, are SO overtly about this self-reliance and the enjoyment of pleasures in the midst of hardship and the early 1900s political ideals that privilege the state of rugged individualism that it’s also a little surprising that Laura didn’t try to insert a few happier scenes. It’s possible that she was literally just that traumatized by her memories of that winter that she literally couldn’t. Or she used the Wilder brothers as her avatars of happy rugged individualism, instead.

But she did achieve her main goal, which was to never admit to anyone that Pa was a fool who dragged them out into the middle of nowhere, with only one single rail line between them and death. I bet that little house in the big woods that he made them leave behind was soooo cozy and comfortable that winter!

Unrelated to the rest of my review, but the scene in The Long Winter in which a blizzard strikes while the children are in school, and the children and schoolteacher try to walk back to town and barely avoid accidentally wandering off into the prairie to die instead, reads so much like the real events of the Children's Blizzard that I started that book thinking it was also describing this winter. But it's not! Buuuuut that Children's Blizzard was so widely written about in newspapers that I wonder VERY much if it informed Wilder's account here.  

Also unrelated, but you know the happy sunflower song that Pa sings every freezing winter morning? This is it!

And here's Captain Jinks!

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Nobody Was Rude To Me At Ulysses S. Grant's House... This Time

A decade ago, when I blogged about visiting the Ulysses S. Grant National Historic Site with my kids, I claimed at the end that I had "mostly forgiven" the park ranger there who had 1) told my child that the answer to a specific question in her Junior Ranger book could have been found by watching the park film if only she'd paid attention, when in fact that information was NOT given in the park film and I knew it, and 2) informed me that in her experience leading field trips, homeschooled children were "less curious" than public and private schoolchildren.

Saying that I'd mostly forgiven her was a lie, obviously, because I still bitch about that ranger regularly. I have never forgotten nor forgiven a single person who has ever been rude to me or my kids on the subject of homeschooling (or any subject, frankly), and I will still, with the barest of excuses, tell you the entire story, quoted dialogue and all, of that time that a random dude sitting next to me at a wedding told me that he didn't approve of homeschooling because "What about socialization?", or the time that a random woman at a party told me she didn't believe in homeschooling because "What about socialization?", or the time that a relative, a few months after I had started homeschooling, asked me if my four-year-old had "regressed in her academics" since she'd "dropped out of preschool."

And it's not like I was sitting there monologuing about homeschooling any of those times, either, but if a random person making small talk asked me back in the day what I did for a living, that's literally what I did!

Anyway, here's a screenshot of the Ulysses S. Grant National Historic Site Junior Ranger book, with the contentious question:

Here are screenshots from the two relevant scenes in the park film, in which the man in question is referred to solely as "William":

If you could zoom in on that document in the film you could see his name, because that's his manumission paper! You cannot see it in the film, however.

As you can see, I have never gotten over even the smallest slight or forgiven any person for even the slightest wrongdoing ever in my entire life.

Nor do I intend to start now, apparently, since when Mr. Craft Knife, our older kid, and I were getting out of the car for this most recent visit to the Ulysses S. Grant National Historic Site, I announced that if any park ranger dared to say one negative thing about homeschooling to me, I was going to burn down Ulysses' house.

Mr. Craft Knife was all, "We're literally just three fully grown adults here. Nobody is going to talk to you about homeschooling!"

And luckily for all of us, he was right!

I did nevertheless manage to be disappointed in the site since we were there on Juneteenth but there was no programming, or even acknowledgment, of the holiday there. Such a bummer, and I'm wondering if I should have gone to the Gateway Arch instead, because surely the park that held the Dred Scott trial would be having a Juneteenth celebration, but ah, well. I looked at a lot of stuff and read a lot of museum labels anyway!

I thought this ink blotter was super cool. They put a mirror underneath it so you could see all of the times Grant had blotted his signature there:

This is a historical recreation of Julia Dent Grant's wedding dress, watered silk and all!

There was some other Queen Victoria memorabilia elsewhere in the museum that, along with this wedding dress, gave me to understand that Julia Dent Grant was a fan of the Royals. Understandable, and also SAME, GIRL, but low-key scandalous in my opinion barely a hundred years after the Revolutionary War...

One of my favorite parts of visiting a national park site is collecting titles of books that I can spend the next few months reading. I found ebooks of this--

--and this--

--and I'll get to them pretty soon, but currently I am hyperfixated on George Washington Carver so it might take me a minute.

I don't really know what it is about daguerreotypes, but they are so life-like! Julia Dent Grant and her sons aren't even colored realistically, but to me they still look like they could step right off that metal plate. And bonus points for little boys dressed like girls!

It looked like most of the exhibit on slavery that we'd seen during our previous visit had been replaced by that exhibit on Julia Dent Grant, but a few artifacts were still there, including this bill of sale, which is easily the most upsetting item in the museum. Jefferson was only eighteen. Louisa was only seventeen, and described as a "mulatress," as well, signifying that she's already experienced generational violence. At least she's being trafficked with at least one of her children, a one-year-old, but clearly neither of these teenagers are the parents of six-year-old Kitty who is also being trafficked to Julia in this bill of sale. That poor baby...

I'm suspicious that Julia could possibly have been as naive as she's portrayed here, so I'll be curious to dive into that memoir!

That label also sent me on a different deep dive, because when I read it I was all, "They still had people enslaved here in 1864? But the Emancipation Proclamation was in 1863???" 

Okay, so for everyone else who was as underserved in their US History as I was (and apparently I underserved my children, as well, oops--you know us homeschoolers and our lack of curiosity!), the Emancipation Proclamation of January 1, 1863, specifically freed only the slaves held in Confederate states. I knew that, and I knew that there were states that were both not in the Confederacy AND were slaveholding states, such as Missouri and Kentucky, but I guess I hadn't connected the dots. Juneteenth, which we were also celebrating on this day, was about the last enslaved people finally being told about the Emancipation Proclamation on June 19, 1865, and I'd assumed those were the very last slaves ever in the United States, but those were the last Confederate slaves ever. There were literally still people being legally enslaved for several more months! Missouri had already abolished slavery, although not until January 11, 1865, but Kentucky and Delaware, as well as New Jersey and its habit of apprenticing people for life, hung on until the Thirteenth Amendment was ratified on December 6, 1865.

So, new holiday idea: we also need to celebrate every December 6, because nobody's free until everybody's free!

Check out this notable coral fossil that was found embedded in some roots on the property:

And the summer kitchen, where enslaved people cooked and did laundry for the white members of the household:

 

I wanted to see where the enslaved people had lived, and the land where they'd labored, but that's all neighborhoods now:

Random, but this was on the bulletin board next to the bathrooms, specifically this dude's pose that is twinning with Grant, is genuinely the best thing ever:

I will NOT be driving back to St. Louis to attend his dinner and colloquy, however, because tickets cost ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS. 

Instead, we went to Fitz's--

--where I ordered something appropriately festive for Juneteenth:

And it wouldn't be a proper field trip if you weren't learning how something is made, so here's a look at their working bottling facility:

Oh, and his name was William Jones! 

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Do I Hate Pa Ingalls Or Railroad Tycoons More?

The closest thing I could find in my photo albums to a blizzard-stricken Dakota Territory is an exceptionally snowy day at Fort Necessity.

The Children's Blizzard by David Laskin
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The answer is Pa Ingalls, of COURSE. But I also hate railroad tycoons!

One of the things that I like most about Laura Ingalls Wilder’s novels is that she explicitly places them in a specific geographic and historical context that she very much wants to be relatable. She tells her audience that she is writing books about what it was like when their grandparents were children. But Wilder writes these fictional stories about the fictional childhood of a fictional grandparent as someone with no living grandchildren to tell her own real-life stories to. Other than the first-draft memoir Pioneer Girl, we don’t really know what her real-life version of her childhood would have been and how it would have differed from the fictional Little House. We know only a handful of the many stories that Pa, also a storyteller, must have passed down to her and her siblings. But based on what we do know about Wilder, her memoir and interviews, the historical records, and how much trouble librarians have always had figuring out how to shelve the books, we know that her stories are often (mostly?) true to life, sometimes only lightly fictionalized, and sometimes simply more inclined to be an idealized version of her overall tumultuous childhood. We can’t take her words as gospel, obviously--and nor do we, or at least me and my fellow Pa Haters don’t, because it’s clear as day how much Wilder wants us to love Pa. But dang, would it be easier to categorize Wilder’s work if she’d had a better understanding of authorship and journalistic integrity… or maybe not, since her style of outsider art heavily edited by a narcissist daughter with a political agenda and an equally loose concept of authorship is maybe what makes these books so special.

Anyway, all that is simply to say that I read The Children’s Blizzard specifically to directly inform my understanding of Wilder’s The Long Winter, so much so that I also re-read The Long Winter, which will be a tale for another day, but wow. SO much bleaker than I remembered!

And as far as directly informing The Long Winter, it both did? And also didn’t?

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The part that was most informative regarding The Long Winter, and the decision-making therein (which again, is explicitly fiction, but could be anywhere from lightly fictionalized to completely invented), was the looming, but rarely actualized, presence of That. Fucking. Train! Reading this book, I’m almost glad that our rail system mostly went the way of the dodo, because those train magnates deserved nothing but bad things! Bad people! Bad! Bad and booo!

Genuinely, though, I actually am really sad about the state of our rail system. I don’t want the train companies to snooker me into moving into a death zone, but I DO want to be able to take the train to Indianapolis and Louisville and Cincinnati and St. Louis, which I could have done 100 years ago! Just give me the 1920 version of train travel without the 1920 version of impending economic downfall!

ANYWAY. The idea behind The Children’s Blizzard is that the train companies lied, cheated, stole, and did whatever else they could get away with (which was basically everything) to get people to move--via train, in many cases!--out to these lands stolen from the indigenous peoples, then when the settlers got there in many cases the train company sold them land they themselves had gotten free from the government, and when the settlers needed supplies, well, guess what? All those supplies came out by TRAIN!

Again, more on that when I write specifically about The Long Winter, but still. Don’t forget that we HATE those train assholes!

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It would still be unethical business practices if, when people got to those territories, they discovered that everything was exactly as it had been depicted to them. Even if you really could simply tickle the ground and wheat would grow, the train monopoly would be too powerful to be trustworthy. But the train monopoly was too powerful AND they were a bunch of liars, because the climate in those territories was not suited for what they'd advertised, so not only could people not making a living as promised, but they couldn't even come prepared for what they'd be facing.

Specifically, those winters. They were bad, they were long, and settlers were completely unprepared to survive them. Neither sod houses nor claim shanties had proper insulation, and people were often unable to stock enough food and fuel to see them through to Spring, much less stock enough to keep their animals alive. This Children's Blizzard was unusual only in its suddenness and its timing, which struck most places during the school day, when kids who lived miles from the school house had come to school that day in light clothes appropriate for the warm spell they'd enjoyed that morning. But the cold killed settlers all winter, every winter.

The petty politics of weather forecasters was a necessary but dry part of the book, and you can genuinely skip those sections and still know what’s going on. Guys didn’t always do their jobs correctly, sometimes people were drunk, and telegrams cost money that the government didn’t always want to pay, all of which led to the news about the cold front not getting spread like it should, but I dunno how much of an impact a correct forecast really would have had here. It’s not like kids were checking the morning weather forecast before leaving for school!

What did not inform my re-read of The Long Winter is that this blizzard actually was not the one depicted in The Long Winter. I was sure it was, because Wilder describes a blizzard early in the book that matches the description of the Children’s Blizzard VERY well. But it’s not, oops! It does make me wonder if Wilder drew on newspaper descriptions of that blizzard for her scene, though. But the book was still worth reading, because it did inform my overall understanding of The Long Winter, the migration to Dakota Territory, and the impact of that FUCKING train, ugh!

If you’re into disaster non-fiction (and if you are, then my response to you is “!!!?!!!”), this book pairs well with David McCullough’s book on the Johnstown Flood. They occurred in adjacent years, the painful level of detail about the individual experience of each disaster is similar, and the aftermath is also interestingly similar in terms of the media response. The media loves a darling!

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I Read the Canon Work on Ley Lines, and Then I Read Some Ley Lines Fanfic

This is my tourist map of the ancient sites of Great Britain. Watkins used maps about 10 times this size for his ley line hunting.

Early British Trackways: Moats, Mounds, Camps and Sites by Alfred Watkins
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The other night, I looked up from the book I was reading (this one, lol!) and said to my older daughter, “So, okay. You know the guy who invented ley lines?”

And she had the nerve to be all, “Oh, yes, indeed! The perennial subject of half our conversations? That guy who is a Totally Normal Guy For You To Always Be Talking About? Please, do tell me what that guy who obviously everybody knows and discusses regularly said this time!”

Well, humph. At that point I didn’t even want to tell her, except obviously yes of course I did, because this guy was creating his ley lines by hand with a straight edge and pins on taped-together ordnance maps with a scale of 1 inch to 1 mile. England is something like 280 miles wide, y’all! That is WILD WORK!

This screenshot of an ordnance map showing just south of Avebury is about the right size. Even at this scale, though, you can't see the sacred wells or "named trees" that Watkins continually references as waypoints. At this scale, I'd sort of assumed you could see the individual stones of West Kennett Avenue and Avebury, and you also can't see the cross markers that Watkins also continually references. He would have LOVED Google Earth!

There are two things that I find the most interesting about ley lines. The first is that they’re not real. Or rather, it’s more like they’re real, but only in the sense that Great Britain is so chock-full of ancient sites and mounds and wells and earthworks and ponds and tumps and trees and river fords that surely every single one of them must be in line with several others, ESPECIALLY if you dial down to a scale of 1 inch to 1 mile. Like, I genuinely do not think you could walk a single mile through the British countryside without bumping into a sacred well, or a tree with a name. A barrow! A hill! A pond! And okay, that’s not *exactly* what he meant--what he wanted to do was find lines that represented purposeful walking tracks, like from a flint quarry to a settlement, say, with markers that you could pick out by sight to guide you back and forth--but still. So many ponds. So many tumps.

That being said, however, I genuinely don’t find the bones of this idea unreasonable, and I think that it makes overt the important concept that people of other times didn’t necessarily perceive or think in the ways that we perceive or think. Their methods of wayfinding don’t have to be ours, and there’s nothing wrong with being creative in our hypotheses about how those methods might have worked. Like, sure, if you’re taking a two-day hike to the flint quarry, you absolutely have some sort of visual markers to guide your way. When it comes to placing Stonehenge and a couple of sacred wells and a really cool tree on that same path… I dunno about that, but maybe sometimes! It would certainly say a lot of interesting things about those ancient peoples at a societal level if it were true!

The other thing that I find the most interesting about ley lines is how they were co-opted by the mystical-minded. Watkins didn’t think they were lines of energy, or magnetic forces. He didn’t think they were mystical. He wasn’t standing on the sidewalk at Glastonbury offering to do tarot card readings. He would be SO sad to learn that his precious ley lines that he invented were now an iconic determinant of an individual’s woo-ness. But honestly, I’m kind of into it! It’s like people have been writing fanfic about ley lines, and I LOVE fanfic! I somehow found out about a small zine, The Ley Hunter, that was indie published in the 1960s and 1970s, allll about the woo version of ley lines and similar mystical topics, and then I found a good samaritan who had scanned a bunch of them into pdfs, and now I am nose deep into Ley Hunter lore. Currently, I’m living in 1965, learning about how the lost civilization of Atlantis was located off the coast of Ireland, and reading an article about how following the path of a ley line out from Bramber Castle makes for a lovely weekend stroll. If I lived in England, I would have so many interesting ways to fill my weekends!

The article actually said that it was the tree-topped mound right next to Bramber Castle that was the actual ley line sighting point, which agrees with Watkins' assertion that many castles and other notable buildings and settlements were placed next to, not on, ley lines. 

I did think it was interesting that in The Ley Hunter vol. 1, issue 4, author Jimmy Goddard writes about buying a 1 inch to 1 mile ordnance survey map of the Isle of Man, with the plan to map and then walk all of the ley lines he could find, creating the world’s first actual comprehensive survey of ley lines in one distinct area. Because the Isle of Man is small, he writes that he thought this would take a few weeks. But then he writes:

“How wrong I was! I now know that if I plot all the leys on it in a year I will be very lucky. From the first time I laid ruler to map leys and centres leaped up at me, and it seems that there isn't a tumulus on the Island which is not a centre. Every one I have tried has proved to be - and there are still a great many more to go.”

So, yeah. You can’t walk a single mile through the Isle of Man without running into a sacred well, or a tree with a name. A barrow! A hill! A pond!

Glastonbury, which Watkins would absolutely have agreed is a ley line center, and which has been associated with VERY much ley line woo since the 1960s.

Fortunately, walking across every inch of England, sniffing out every sacred well, tree with a name, barrow, hill, and pond sounds like the loveliest of pastimes. I'd happily be a ley hunter just for the excuse to amble in straight lines back and forth across the British countryside every weekend!

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Because Not Even Dolls Like To Spread Their Germs Around

I've been so busy learning to sew brand-new types of doll garments from various pattern books and websites that I forgot all about the one doll garment that I've been sewing regularly ever since the pandemic...

My 18" doll cloth masks!

Fortunately, a recent order (of this pretty red/green combo) reminded me--

--so while I was at my work table with the pattern in hand and cutting and sewing already, I also whipped up a mask to go with the American Girl doll wardrobe that I'm sewing for a niece's birthday later this summer:

I even found a scrap that would work with the green bias tape I was already using so that I didn't have to change my thread. It's a win for lazy sewists everywhere!

If you want your own version, I make and sell these 18" doll cloth masks in your choice of colors over at my Pumpkin+Bear etsy shop. It actually hadn't occurred to me to also offer the mask in a choice of prints, but this one *is* pretty cute...

Stay tuned, I guess!

If you're keeping count, so far this summer I've sewed:

• 2 18" doll sleeveless dresses with gathered waists
• 2 18" doll rompers
• 2 18" doll blouses with puffed sleeves
• 1 18" doll cloth mask

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I Read Doll Couture, Because Sewing Doll Clothes is My Newest Mid-Life Crisis Hobby

Doll Couture: Handcrafted Fashions for 18-inch Dolls by Marsha Greenberg
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Doll Couture starts with a couple of assumptions that you have to understand in order to fully utilize this pattern book. The first, which Greenberg states overtly, is that the patterns and instructions are meant to be used with handkerchiefs, tea towels, doilies, and other small vintage home goods. And to this end, Greenberg includes ample tips, tricks, and instructions for how to incorporate these sometimes delicate, sometimes finicky fabrics, from fussy cutting tea towel graphics to sizing crocheted doilies for a doll’s overskirt. This is an almost impossibly niche sub-topic in sewing, but totally valid and relevant. I do sort of wonder if anyone has ever used this book as intended to sew anything for their doll from these types of vintage fabrics, but honestly, it’s fine if nobody has--information for information’s sake is worthwhile!

The assumption that I had more issues with is the assumption that the reader is already familiar with the many basic tropes and mechanics of sewing for a doll. I’m a fine sewist, but I’ve never sewn doll’s clothing before, and I was baffled by the instructions for my first project, a simple dress with a sleeveless bodice and gathered skirt. I feel like Greenberg might have suspected that there was something confusing in her instructions, because she included the specific advice to read the instructions multiple times until you understood them, but no amount of re-reading was going to help me understand that a doll’s dress is constructed flat, with fastenings all down the back, because Greenberg never actually explains that. Without any guidance to the contrary, I figured that doll dresses were constructed the same way human dresses are--a finished skirt in the round, and a bodice that fastens up the back. I was so confused, and did a lot of seam ripping and trying again, but eventually I figured it out and didn’t have that same trouble with any of the patterns again, but it feels like something that should have been explicitly stated or shown in a photo.

I didn’t try every pattern, but the romper also skipped a couple of steps, requiring me to figure out how to attach the ruffle on my own. And to make it extra confusing, that one IS a slip-on pattern, so I kept trying to over-complicate it in my head by wondering where the back fastenings would be and if I wasn’t supposed to be constructing it flat, etc.

 

Most of the book is a lookbook of sorts, with full-color photos of dolls wearing elaborately embellished garments sewn from those vintage handkerchiefs, tea towels, and doilies. There’s a key to show you which patterns were used in each garment, but it’s not comprehensive, as the garments in the photos clearly show a variety of sleeves, skirt lengths, and romper bib styles, for example, that are not in the patterns. I really wanted that alternative romper bib with more coverage, too!

I ended up sewing multiples of three patterns that I’m pretty happy with: the sleeveless dress, the romper, and a blouse with puffed sleeves. The sleeveless dress is pretty similar to other basic basic doll dress patterns that I’ve seen, but it comes together exceptionally neatly with finished seams and a lining, and it’s easy to see where to add top-stitching and additional lining components to make the dress look even nicer. The blouse and the romper are both unique, though, and the romper especially is not something I’ve seen reflected in any other 18” doll pattern book--everybody’s book has a blouse pattern, but this is the only pair of American Girl doll overalls! The book lacks a regular, non-romper pants pattern, though, which is a bummer.

 

I didn’t utilize any of the lookbook images as inspiration to add embellishments, but I am looking forward to digging through my stash of fancier fabric scraps to use with that sleeveless dress pattern--I think I could end up with a very cute little ballgown that way!

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Gettysburg to Philadelphia to Columbus to Home

The battle ended and the armies moved on, leaving over 7,000 corpses and several hundred amputated limbs lying wherever they'd fallen or been tossed. The civilians came back or came out of hiding and put the place back together again, burying everybody and everything wherever they could be buried, in shallow graves and mass graves and here and there anywhere there was a spot, sometimes marked and sometimes not. A local lawyer, David Wills, organized the creation of a national cemetery for the Union dead adjacent to the local cemetery, and over the next few months all the corpses who could be found who were Union soldiers (and a few who probably weren't but got caught up in the mix) were moved there. 

Meanwhile, the Confederate corpses stayed in their various shallow graves for several more years, until a local doctor organized the exhumation of whoever could still be found and had them sent to proper consecrated cemeteries back in the former Confederate states. If you want to see a couple of people who have Big Feelings about this and are willing to say so with their full government names, you should check out the Comments section of this blog post from the sadly now defunct Gettysburg National Military Park blog. In it, some guy named John Eady Simmons, Jr. says that the Union soldiers were "misled by Lincoln!" That's not something that you want on the first page of a Google search of your name!

Anyway, a few months after the battle, when the corpses of the Union soldiers had been more or less settled into the brand-new national cemetery, it was officially dedicated and consecrated. Abraham Lincoln came and gave a speech. He stayed with David Wills, and likely wrote some of the speech in his house. He asked to meet John Burns, and they hung out for about an hour and by all accounts had a lovely chat. 

And on November 19, he gave this speech:

Back in our homeschooling days, it took my eight-year-old six months to fully memorize that two-minute speech (So many big words! So many relative clauses!), and I'm still chuffed at her accomplishment.

Also, she managed it in 1:23. She can talk faster than Lincoln, woot!

It was a beautiful day to walk around the national cemetery--

--and see Lincoln's handwritten speech in the place where he'd read it--

--but eventually we had to get back on the actual road, since the Battle of Gettysburg was meant to be by no means the main event of this week.

Okay, one more detour...

At our dinner at Dobbin House the previous night, Mr. Craft Knife had a local cider so delicious that he looked to see if 1) the cidery is open to the public, and 2) if it was reasonably on our path. It is, and it was!

Okay, now we're REALLY on our way!

Because we can be productive and efficient when we need to, by that evening we were enjoying a walk around the little kid's college campus after packing most of her stuff into the car (these knock-off Frakta bags are the BEST things to pack in! They hold a ton, they've got handles so they're easy to carry, and when they're empty they fold up flat and can be thrown in the top of a dorm room closet until they're ready to fill up again):

By the next morning we'd packed up the rest of it and were on the road, by that evening I was in Ohio, dancing to a band that, after an hour of trying to play the music they wanted, had submitted to the crowd and was indulging all the parents of the next day's college graduates with covers of classic 90s songs (the lead singer had to literally read the lyrics for each song off of her phone, and WE DID NOT CARE!), by the morning after that I was snagging seats inside a college gym--

--and by that afternoon I had myself a brand-new college graduate!

And then we packed her, up, too, and drove another four hours back home.

This big kid has grown up so much from that tiny little moppet with messy blonde curls who loved dinosaurs and baby farm animals and interesting rocks. For a while, I really longed for that little kid again--not because I wanted her instead of my own grown-up daughter, but because in retrospect, those days were so magical, and, it turns out, so fleeting. Tangential, but now I, too, have become the person who tells parents of young children in a slightly too intense tone to cherish the present because it's gone before you know it, and the parents always nod and agree but I know they're rolling their eyes because why do all older women keep telling them that but SOMEDAY THEY WILL KNOW WHY.

But anyway, yes, I still miss that little kid, and the best day of my life would be to somehow be a time traveler and get to babysit her and her even littler sister and see those little faces and hear those little voices again, but I wouldn't trade that little version for my own grown-up daughter for anything in the world. It's excellent to have a kid who's all grown up, and you can see that they're thoughtful and kind, they're generous, they're funny, they're happy to be alive and excited to see and do everything they can, but they're still also your kid who will hang out with you and listen to all your boring stories and tell you much more interesting stories in return. And obviously, they still love dinosaurs and baby farm animals and, most of all, interesting rocks.

In related news, if you know of any great job openings for early career environmental scientists, please send them my way!

P.S. Want to follow along with my craft projects, books I'm reading, road trips to weird old cemeteries, looming mid-life crisis, and other various adventures on the daily? Find me on my Craft Knife Facebook page!