Honey, I ain't cookin' tonight.

Now that was a good day.

Courtesy of Project Appleseed and a couple devoted local hosts who got the ball rolling up here in the Last Frontier, I got a chance to see what all the fuss was about. And it was awesome.

I splurged and went in my trekking clothes,  and spent the first fifteen minutes geeking out with a reenactor from Yankee country. Soon though we get started. After orientation and safety lectures we settle into lessons - starting with prone shooting, then sight adjustment - then

Biggest thing I learned - how to use a sling right. What an AMAZING difference!

seated and offhand rapid fire.

I was told beforehand that the .22 CZ I had wasn't really suited to the course, and once we got into it I saw how true that was - I might have pulled it off okay if I'd been serious and already purchased 10-round magazines for it, but with the one factory 5-round magazine it just wasn't going to happen. So thanks again to the kindness of strangers Alaskans I was able to shoot the course with a borrowed .22 (Marlin, right T?). I did have some problems from just plain technical unfamiliarity, but once I got settled in things went pretty well.

Next - I want to say the instruction was VERY good. For one thing, the instructors had a great sense of learning psych - little things like being asked to repeat the safety rules out loud were a telling touch. More importantly,  they all knew the body mechanics of what they were asking for, and could explain how to get the results wanted.

That is, you wouldn't typically be told "you're doing X, stop it" but rather "this is happening because this bone is resting here and that muscle is unsupported, move this  here and that there and..."

After each course of fire, there was lots of "gather round the targets" time, going over the causes of this or that error pattern.

Very very very good teachers.
And frankly, good students. I really didn't see anyone pulling the "I already know what I'm doing" self-puffery that could get in the way of learning.

Finally - the history session. When we broke for lunch, there was a three-part lecture on the events of  Patriot's Day. And um... they had it down. After reading fairly extensively on the era and the engagements - and touring Battle Road itself this year - I wasn't expecting to hear much new.

I am not ashamed to say I'd underestimated the amount of historical context they'd have on what's - less be honest  - a fairly romanticized part of our history. But among the lecturers were people who could rattle off things about 18th c. trade policy, church politics, even comparatively minor participant biographies -- all from memory.

I was really impressed.

So yeah - highly recommended if you get the chance. They do give gals (or people in period attire!) a discount yes - but it's definately very good instruction for anyone. The class ranged from a pro-level guy banging it down with a battle rifle to whole families with mom and kids on the line.

Afterwards, we broke up and chatted a bit while getting things ready to go home. Looking around the crowd as we were getting ready to leave, one of the instructors who'd come up from Southern California said - "you meet the best people at a rifle range."

And you know? I think he was right. That was an awesome bunch of folks to meet.
Wonderful day.

... but I still ain't cookin. :)

Leading Lady

Since friend Paul has been on something of a history kick lately, here's one I found recently.
I'd been looking for a counterpoint to Peter Oliver's Origin and Progress of the American Rebellion: A Tory View  and found it in Mercy Otis Warren's History of the Rise, Progress, and Termination of the American Revolution.  [In Google Books]

Mrs. Warren is an interesting character - very much a part of the Massachusetts Patriot scene back in the day, and very much of the Anti-Federalist persuasion. Apparently she even got in a tiff with John Adams once upon a time, when he complained her history of the Revolution didn't give him a big enough part. :)

Anyhow, this is one of the gems I've found from her (p.302) -

"The dread of slavery in free nations, has at all times produced more virtues than the principles of their political institutions."* This dread hung heavily on the most sober and judicious, the most wise and virtuous part of the inhabitants of America. They were sensible that both public and private virtue sink with the loss of liberty, and that the nobler emulations which are drawn out and adorn the soul of man, when not fettered by servility, frequently hide themselves in the shade, or shrink into littleness at the frown of a despot. They felt too much for themselves, and feared too much for posterity,  longer to balance between either complete or partial submission, or an unreserved and entire claim to absolute independence.
* quoting from Travels of Anarchsis

One for your list, Paul. :)

Cradle of Liberty, Pt III

After the Armory, we all stop in at Old Sturbridge Village.

I'd made the mistake of not scouting things out enough ahead of time - in retrospect it would have been a much better place for a daytrip with the kids in tow. Still, despite running low on time we had a chance to poke around the bookstore at the village. All sorts of neat toys, especially the stuff they make on site. Definitely on the list for next trip back. I have an eye on one of those bean pots for another cooking day with Dear Mr. T. :)

So - the next day was mostly sedate. I managed an interview with a local guy (awesome!) that will be appearing in other pages before too much longer. Afterwards, we splurged and had lunch at The Green Dragon.

Oh wait no!

Wrong Green Dragon.

I mean THIS Green Dragon.

The original "headquarters of the revolution" might be gone, but its latter day namesake was still a nice place to get out of the sun for a bit.

Once inside, it's a pretty typical Irish-American pub, with a good dose of Revolutionary themed decor here and there. We sat down under a shadow box of revolutionary era early 19th century bits and bobs, and  -- ooh!

I think I'd first heard of an "Irish Breakfast" via Mr. Thompson at Bloggin' fae the 'Burn - and here one was. Since I didn't know when I'd get another chance - let's try that!

Ooof! Heavy! But tasty.

The black pudding was quite..um... savory-dense in an almost painful way. Reminds me of haggis, actually. I could probably develop a taste for it eventually I think.

Anyhow, enough lolling around!

We have groceries to buy and errands to run, but first - one final detour before heading home.

We have some stairs to climb.

Cradle of Liberty, Pt II

So - back to Boston.

On the Gunny's recommendation, we found our way to Springfield Armory, accompanied by family friends.

The first thing you notice is that although the armory isn't in operation anymore, it's still has something of a "company town" feel. Many of the buildings have been repurposed into a college, and the museum itself is tucked back in one corner of the facility. You walk through a glass door into a tower, where once upon a time crates of arms were hoisted onto a waiting horse-drawn wagon.

You pass under the crate, go through a second door (ironically enough, with a sticker reminding you to leave your own piece in the car) - and settle into to see an orientation film. You see Henry Knox leaning over a map, explaining the decision to plant two armouries in the new US. The Northern States have Springfield - the Southern States have Harper's Ferry. That's just a *little* foreboding.

From there you're set to walk through the museum proper. It's divided into two bays - on the right is the manufacturing exhibits, including an early stock duplication machine that's a beauty of simplicity - it's like a iron swingset! There's also a toolchest to make any craftsman sigh, and all manner of old hand tools.

In the other bay is the arms exhibit. Mostly you'll see US longarms, especially of the WWI-WWII era. There's also captured collections from a Native-owned rifle covered in tacks and rawhide to Nazi and Soviet pieces.

You'll also see some fairly rare curiosities - even a real live Liberator. That one makes for a sober story to explain to little ones. "So the people in France were occupied by Nazis. And then..."

The big eye catcher in the room though is the "Organ of Muskets"- a store of hundreds of Civil War era rifle-muskets, all mounted on their original arms room rack. They tell the story of Longfellow and his 1845 "peace poem" Arsenal at Springfield.

As an aside?

I love the history of New England, and I confess that Yankee charm is growing on me. Saltbox houses all lined up behind the meandering stone walls. There's a hominess in New England that's just indescribably nice. And as confining as Yankee culture feels when it chafes my independent edges, I do sense the appeal.

But we are human animals, and I am still a Southern girl. I can see an M1 and not think much on it. It's a fairly clever bit of engineering for the day, it's iconic for the era - but that's all. They were pointed at Nazis, at Imperial Japanese - enemies over the sea.

But when I look at that "organ" of rifle-muskets, I know those were pointed at my mountain kin once upon a time. More, I know the time. I know not a few of the hands making those guns knew in their bones exactly how they'd be used.

It's over. It's done. But I'll admit to some little bit of ambivalent melancholy at the sight.

Just as I'm sure there's no shortage of black Southerners who think the same thing looking at a romantic statue of a Confederate Cavalier back home.

Ah! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary,
When the death-angel touches those swift keys!
What loud lament and dismal Miserere
Will mingle with their awful symphonies!

I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus,
The cries of agony, the endless groan, 
Which, through the ages that have gone before us,
In long reverberations reach our own.

We've all had a hard road together, us Americans.
Thank God we've only seriously come to blows once so far.

The tour has some more sedate tools towards the end as well that aren't full of the same horrid memories - match pieces pulled off the line for target shooting, and a hunting rifle presented to President Teddy Roosevelt.

The day is done, and we spend a little time in the bookstore before heading home - there's lots of technical manuals for the dedicated hobbyists that must come by - I find a reprint of an1850's book that's just awesome - Marco Paul's Voyages and Travels: Springfield Armory.

It's part of an old "this is how the world works" kids book series, and it looks quite detailed for a children's book! (check out the economics of production section, starting p.121)

Next stop - back to Boston proper. More tomorrow. :)

Cradle of Liberty, Pt I

Sorry for the unannounced outtage y'all - I was off to see Dear Friend up on Battle Road. (yes, such an appropriate home site, don't you think?)

Anyhow, Boston is an interesting place. Stories are piled there four centuries deep. I know that's not much to y'all on the other side of the pond, but here it's simply amazing. Especially if you're used to the great wide open of the American West or Alaska.

Our first day out, we went to one of my favorite spots in Boston ever - the Harvard bookstore, the COOP. The bottom couple stories are pretty much what you expect from any modern SWPL bookstore - less toys and picturebooks and such, but by and large it's pretty familiar if you've gotten yourself lost in a Barnes and Noble for an afternoon.

The upstairs though - oh. Oh my. Go past the coffee shop, and climb the stairs. And beside the stairs, there is a bookshelf. And on that bookshelf, you will be greeted by the Loeb Classical Library.

All those old funny "-ius" and "-icles" and "-ides" authors you've seen referenced for ages but never sat down and actually read?  There they are. All the green is Greek, the red is Roman - and not visible at the foot is some Humanist stuff in blue. Original text on the left pages,  English translations on the right, they're a great way to make up a botched education.
 
Last time I got the first volume of Livy that's come walking with me now and again - that's where the story of Gaius Mucius Scaevola (Lefty) we were talking about came from.

(Livy was an Augustan-era historian compiling a history of Rome. Machiavelli wrote a commentary on his works, and Jefferson recommended him as a historical source. So that's why he was the first name to stand out the first time I got all agog at the Red and Green Wall.)


Anyhow - this trip - the Aenid! Professor Thomas F. X. Noble has described that work as a contemporary self-conscious exemplar of Roman virtues, so it seemed the perfect next stop in the reading list.

(As an side - another curious thing about Boston - you see evidence of the late 18th/early 19th century Classical fascination all over the architecture there. Neat! )



Later in the week, on the suggestion of The Gunny, we went by Springfield Armory. If your interests cross history and arms - you WANT to see the exhibits at Springfield Armory.
More on that tomorrow.

 

Traveller's Advisory

The TSA is now asking about "recording devices" when you travel. Even if it's off and cased, there's a goodly chance they'll take it out and f* with it before your regularly scheduled molestation. Back up your files before traveling, close your eyes, and ..well....

There she goes...

For those who've been following Miss D and her travails getting her plane ready to fly back - she's finally on her way!

She's camping out tonight with her little yellow plane, and in the morning will be winging her way towards home. Here's her goodbye moments to Alaska - 

Y'all treat her good down there, hear?

And Miss D - um.. yeah. If it's any consolation, you could hear Gunny's curse all the way across the airfield when he found your oil in the back seat. That man's got some lungs in him. :)

Family Tradition, contd.

So as I was saying... not raised in a particularly patriotic household.

Let me diverge for a moment.


Once during a visit with friends - all of whom happened to be both history geeks and sword nuts - the conversation turned to blades that were so distinctive they'd become almost national emblems.

Knife and hatchet the work of Curt Lyles

If you have SCAdian type friends, I'm sure you've heard similar wanking. 

The Japanese with their katanas, the Scots and their claymores, so forth and so on. I can't remember the conversation exactly, but as I recall there was a little bit of wistfulness that America had come of age after firearms took hold, and so our nation really didn't have a similar legacy.

The closest we have - as I recall the conversation - is the tomahawk. Sometimes gussied up for the native fur trade, but as often as not, just a plain ol' hatchet.

And you know what?

I think that is awesome.

I wouldn't trade that legacy for any thousand-layered piece of peasant-slicing smithcraft, made for some silk-clad noble to go to war with - or for that matter, any of the varied people-choppers from the European kingdoms.

No - I like coming from the country that just has a little ol' hatchet to its name. 'Cause you know why?

You build things with them.

Sure they'll crack open a skull if it comes right down to it, but that's not what they're for. They're for chopping up kindling for a hearth fire, they're for quartering venison - turn 'em around and they're for driving in the finishing pegs on your back country cabin's window frame.

They're tools of creation.

And that's the America I know and love. Not safe exactly - no easy pushover - but ultimately a nation of builders. A people who can face hardship and want with a few simple tools and a whole lot of determination - and just plain make it through. Make a home. Make a family. Make a country.

And so that's why I started a new family tradition of my own this Independence Day.

I picked up my old hatchet, just like the ones my ancestors made their homes with two hundred years ago. And I walked into the woodlands, found a fallen tree still strong enough to bear the weight and wind, and I brought it home.

I cleaned it off, I tied my old flag to it, and stuck it in the ground for the day.

Just one old dry pole, a reminder of what we did once. And what we can do again.

And from this year on, long as I'm able, I hope to continue that tradition.
Maybe you'll join me next year?

Happy Independence Day, y'all. Hope your day was swell.

Family Tradition

I did not grow up in a patriotic family.

It's not like we were raging deconstructionists or anything - it's just that America was... a background. Independence Day was for sparklers and barbecues and fireworks... we really didn't dwell on the why of it that much.

For me, personally, that started to change about.. oh, twelve years or so ago. I started seriously reading our history. I started meeting more military guys and hearing their stories. Slowly, I started to realize just how big of a chance we were taking in 1776... and just how big of a gift we were given.


... and how expensive it's been to keep.

My epiphany, as it were, was in 2001. Not 9/11, actually - but earlier that year. The flag I flew with my neighbors on *that* September day was one I'd requested earlier that year from my Senator - it had flown over our capitol July 4, 2001.

Ten years later, it flies outside my little cottage in Alaska, fastened with a couple linen ties to a pole pulled from the nearby forest. It's been an interesting ten years.

Time to run off to hear the DoI read - to be continued!












edit... just heard from my beloved brother in Afghanistan this morning. Thankfully, he's fine.

Walk in Grace, M. I love you.