Category Archives: vacation

“I hope to have God on my side, but I must have Kentucky.”

Becoming a lay expert on a specific historical period, the American Civil War, two related methods for learning history have become crucial to me. First, having broad-based knowledge about this period deepens my understanding of specific local history. Second, travelling to a place to imbibe the local atmosphere where important history happened, brings the sights, smells, sounds and imagination to bear on that history. Both improve the richness of my full understanding of that time – and the human experience overall.

When travelling, I’ve taken to purchasing a book about local history, preferably about Civil War history, to bring these two learning tools together. My most recent experience in central Kentucky was especially delightful. The area we visited was Bowling Green, a place that switched hands several times throughout the war, as both sides tried to bring this crucial “neutral” boarder state into their fold. As newly-elected President Lincoln said about his birth state, “I hope to have God on my side, but I must have Kentucky.”

The book I found is Josie Underwood’s Civil War Diary, edited by Nancy Disher Baird. A passionate 20-year old woman from a prominent Kentucky family, whose father was a leader of the pro-Union elements in the state, writes movingly about the shattering impact of the war on the families in Kentucky. As the country descends from arguments about preserving the Union, the principles of the Constitution, and the status of slavery to outright war, the dissolution of families, friends, and communities into outright hostilities is heartrending. The articulate and beautiful young woman finds her life pulled apart as the miasma of a country in upheaval at a fulcrum point in history throws her life into disarray.
A favorite part of the book was her one-time meeting with Abraham Lincoln when in Washington with her father, who was being appointed by the President as Ambassador to Glasgow. Like many contemporary accounts of Lincoln, its cinematic quality is captivating:

“As we returned to the city, about sun down, there were no other people in sight on the road [from the Soldiers House] except a lone horseman we were meeting. He was on a long-tailed black pony (the horse looked so small) galloping along – a high silk hat on his head – black cloth suit on, the long coat tails flying – behind him. Pa called our attention to him—saying ‘some farmer – who has been in the hot city all day and is now eager to get home to supper and his family.’ So Miss Bell and I thought the man and he looked it. As we met, Pa had the carriage stop. The man did the same and Pa introduced us to Mr. Lincoln. He leaned over, shook hands with us, then slouched down on one side of the saddle—as any old farmer would do, as he talked for ten or 15 minutes with us.”

Can you imagine it? She captures so many historical facts in this one little story. Lincoln’s notorious lack of concern for personal safety, chillingly foreboding—His “everyman” demeanor of an uncouth Westerner—His benevolence toward humanity. It’s all there in this brief, personal account. She goes on…

“Pa and Mr. Etheridge thought is very imprudent and unwise risk for him in such a time of warfare and especial hatred of Mr. Lincoln himself for him to be riding unattended, unguarded out a lonely country road – and called his attention to the dangers—Mr. Lincoln’s smile—expressed kindliness to all men and fear of none—as he said—he ‘did not think anybody would hurt him that way’—shaking hands again with us—he galloped on, neither did we meet anybody else for quite a little way so it was very evident there were no guards—following him.”
Finally, she summarizes her impressions of the man she, and her contemporaries from the South, even those “Unionists” who supported the war effort.
“Lincoln in appearance certainly falls far short (though he is so long) of my idea of how a President should look. In fact a very common-looking man he is—but I must confess there was a kindliness in his face—that does not fit the tyrant—unfair man I have been thinking him…Thinking of his kind, troubled face I can’t believe it is.”

Absolutely spellbinding.

Much of this moving account, especially for a Civil War buff, is infused with details and examples of the local consequences of the war in the border states. I urge anyone with an interest in the times or who is visiting the area to read this mesmerizing account, especially during this 150-year anniversary of Lee’s surrender to Grant at Appomattox Court House. And to remember the 150-year anniversary of Lincoln’s untimely death at the hands of one of the people he so confidently believed wouldn’t “hurt him in that way.”

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Filed under Civil War, History, Lincoln, vacation

Vacation Kinetics: Purging the Matrix, Cleansing the Senses, Awakening the Spirit

Overloading

Vacations are a way to get away – in every way.  Yet in today’s hyperconnected, hyperkinetic modern world, it is more difficult than ever to disconnect, decelerate and rejuvenate.  Our two-week family vacation was strategically planned by my lovely wife to allow rejuvenation of mental energies away from work concerns near the end of summer, including long stretches in the car; in remote rural areas; and being out the country – in part, to discourage on-line time.  The 24/7 maw of the social media world that is drawing us into a Borg-like meta-community has a gravitational pull into its growing sphere of influence.  Disentangling from it has become the primary challenge for a successful vacation.

Academic physicians seem evolutionarily conditioned to have our attention swallowed up by the immediacy of our daily work lives.  Our nervous systems seem finely-tuned to reflexively respond to our daily sensory input of general need.  At work, we are confronted with the “emergencies of the moment” that consume our carefully planned schedules.  For me, this includes urgent emails from my boss, cell phone texts from mentees needing deadline-driven feedback on a paper, voicemails from professional groups on sudden changes to upcoming conference calls, faculty members unexpectedly out for personal reasons needing coverage, or a page[1] from a nursing home on an immediate patient concern.  The amygdala-jarring, guilt-reflex that each of these inputs ignites, reinforced by years of professional acculturation demanding immediate responses to all needs, makes ignoring them genetically impossible. Adding the barrage of input from overseeing a section in a department of medicine at a large academic institution (read: middle management) only raises the cortisol levels further. It is no wonder why, among academic physicians, burnout and turnover are so high.

Sometimes the only way to break the cycle is to eliminate the sensory input.  Everyone I told that I was going on an extended vacation enthusiastically encouraged me to “avoid all work-related activities”. Easier said than done!

Weaning

I was excited about our planned trip, even with the prospect of being locked in a car with my Eveready-bunny young boys for hours on end.  When I was a kid, we would jump in the old Datsun station wagon and drive to grandma’s house, twelve good hours of complete family immersion and outer-world isolation.  Playing “counting cows” and finding state license plates are over.  In our car, there are three smart phones, three tablet computers, and 2 regular computers, all internet-connection compatible. Perhaps the one advantage of my cell-phone service with Sprint is the relatively poor coverage it provides in non-urban areas and the ghastly charges they have for international service.[2]  Even worse, having identified “internet access” lying at the very base of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, every place you stop along the way provides WiFi services.  It’s truly amazing watching people wander slowly about public places, slack-jawed staring at a phone, bumping into things.  In protest, I carry a book around with me everywhere, sitting and reading something in the open periods available.  Like other addicts, I spent hours each day in a cold sweat, trying not to connect my nervous system into the Matrix, slowly weaning myself off the electronic juice.  At the beginning of the trip, I wasn’t sure two weeks would be enough time.

Everything triggered a reflexive need to connect.  In reading a rest stop sign on the local history of Rome, NY – was it really the starting point for the building of the Erie Canal?  In seeing someone wearing a LeBron James jersey in Cleveland – how were the FIBA team practices going?  Had we heard back from anyone on our journal articles, especially the one to the Health Affairs Blog?  Slow, deep breaths…count to ten…ask someone a question…read your book…  This was work!  When did vacation become such hard work?!?

Purging

Recognizing the challenge ahead, my wife had brilliantly planned for us to spend many hours a healthy distance from the Matrix. First, living cozily in a small, rustic two-story motel on Old Orchard Beach — a lovely, genuinely historic locale inhabited primarily by thin, smoking French-speakers from Quebec. Meandering a mile barefooted down the silica, confronted by the sine-wave eternity of sandy saline, is a wonderful psychic purgatory.  We spent the first part of the trip at a local joint, catching an unexpected glimpse of a favorite celebrity, and hanging out with the bride and groom, moves the electronic buzz into the hazy periphery.  Being forced to stop at a local gas station, all gussied up, to get directions to the ceremony at “The Barn at Flanagan Farm” from a woman with a knowing smile, because the GPS won’t connect,  injects a healthy dose of humanity.  Spending the day-after brunch with across-the-country friends you’ve only interacted with on Facebook in over 20 years, and discussing foreign policy among the wild flowers with an intensity social media precludes, reconnects the vivid present to the unseen future through the past.  Hiking up a mountain, along sheer ravines with my adventurous sons, calves aflame, unable to send a reassuring text to my wife, calls forth a focus of intensity to block out the world. Staring through the cool, swirling mist of pulverized water on rock from the deck of a boat staring up at Niagra’s relentless falls, unable to snap pictures with your smart phone, forces you to simply enjoy the moment. Exciting the senses and calming the soul.

Awakening

As the sensory apparatus was revived by salty ocean breezes, fresh seafood, bright wild flowers, prickly briars, and cool mist, the cognitive gears began turning again.  Freed from the character confines of Twitter chatter, narratives of new friends emerged.  Shared struggles up a steep, rocky mountain invited bonding discussions of oceanside views.  Meeting Ricki inside her beachside Place, quicky, discombobulated bookstore/motel/knick-knack/beach-equipment rental encouraged bibliophile bonding, and some more books for the collection. Open enjoyment of a new marriage in a field of clover led to wide-ranging discussions of the entrepreneurial spirit altering the landscape of international relations. Touring the Joshua Chamberlain museum, some more pieces of history clicked into place, as the WWII-vet docent filled in more details.  And another Civil War history book went into the collection. Stopping at the Fort Erie historical site, engagingly led by a young local woman in period clothing, and punctuated by the firing of a mortar shell ordered by my son, I could almost feel the neurons reignite.

Contemplating

As the vacation flowed along, as my senses revived, as my brain engaged, I found the need to write creatively emerging.  Using my long-dormant blog, I spent time each night piecing my thoughts together, gratified to find others who shared my thoughts.  Why was I so intrigued by professor-turned-soldier Joshua Chamberlain?  What did I enjoy so much about used book stores? Why was   I found myself feeling happier than I have for some time, enjoying the simple vitality of being alive, letting my inner self choose the topic, rather than responding to the “emergency of the day”.

I finally had some space and energy to contemplate – to, as Dr. Suess would say, “think about thinks”.  The true value of an extended vacation is less to get away from things like the matrix, but to get close to one’s inner self.  The “getting away” is really just the first part, to clear the playing field, to blow out the engine, to pull the plug on the tub full of dirty water.  Or like a beach after high tide, when all the sand sculptures have been melted down, and the canvas again lies pristine. Once that’s done, one can really get to work, focusing all of one’s energy on the creative task at hand.   I now feel like I imagine my kids do when they start on the new sandcastle or master a new skill, happily creating something anew from nothing, investing all of one’s ample energy in the project at hand.

I’m grateful to my wife for planning this vacation, finding a way to detach us from the persistent buzzing of our Web-ensnared devices, nudging us out into the wilderness of reality, allowing us to engage with the wider world.  I’m thrilled that she was rewarded in many ways: recognizing a favorite sit-com star who flashed across her field of vision, re-engaging with an old friend at the wedding (both wearing beautiful lavender dresses), playing on the beach with her boys, and enjoying another birthday dinner with me.  We’re now a little older, a bit wiser, and more thoughtful – and perhaps, a smidge happier.

[1] Yes, a pager. I suspect doctors are the only professional group that has failed to give up this antiquated, annoying form of communication.  Mostly symbolic, like stethoscopes and white coats, that allow physicians to maintain a professional identity, to the detriment of job function.

[2] As we discovered during our recent trip to the Black Hills of South Dakota, Sprint has absolutely no interest in providing any cell service whatsoever in that area.  They really ought to change this into a “feature” for vacationers like me, guaranteeing “absolutely no service, no matter the urgency of the matter”.

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Filed under Aging, History, Philosophy, psychology, vacation