On the Road to Gettysburg- Easter Sunday, April 1, 2018
Gettysburg is a place like no other to me. It has layers upon layers of meaning for me, and has many ways to approach it.
Of course, on the most basic level, there is the story of the battle- hardcore history, to be sure. It's a story of tragedy and chaos, told on a personal level with connections to men like Amos Humiston and Henry Fuller who, like thousands of others, breathed their last there. For those that survived it, the battle was often seen as the supreme moment of their lives. Millions of pages have probably been written about it, by the veterans and others. You can trace an individual or a regiment through so much of those three traumatic days and yet so many mysteries about what really happened seem to remain. The answers seem just within our reach and yet fade away like mist when we try to grasp them.
Then there is the epic story of Gettysburg- the romantic tale told through song and art, novels and movies, and the battlefield itself. It is a grand story. One park ranger called it the "American national epic," and suggested it fills the same spot in our mythos as The Illiad did for the Greeks and The Aeneid did for the Romans. I find more to agree with in his thesis than to argue with. It is this level of Gettysburg that attracts artists and poets, as well as Hollywood, and even the re-enactors and ghost hunters. It is a story that has passed into legend and perhaps even to myth.
And then there is the level of Gettysburg that Tim and Phil called, "the gin joints and junk shops." It is that kitchy Americana that gloms on to any of our treasured national sites. I admit a guilty pleasure of browsing the shops on Steinwehr Ave. There is the huge range of items from museum quality antiques and fine art to the tourist trap cheese that can all be endlessly fascinating.
But it's just beyond that level of Gettysburg that I find, spread over the top of everything else, there is the level of the personal remembrances of friends and family. For me the town positively bristles with places that remind me of events that happened there. Gettysburg seems to have run through my adult life like a golden thread, linking everything together from the big events to the small. There's reminders of friends I haven't seen in a long time, and sometimes friends that are no longer with us. There's places I visited when I first came over 30 years ago. Places where Julie and I visited when we got engaged, or when we came on our honeymoon, or when we were moving to Virginia, or moving back again, and where we said goodbye to the 20th Century. There's places where are daughters roller skated when they were just little girls. Little Anna called the town "Daddysburg" because she misunderstood the word, but the name seemed so appropriate that I've never forgotten it. The stories that fill the town that come from my life seem almost countless.
It's time to go back again. When Julie and the girls went to Disney World this January and I was left behind, I asked myself where I might want to be, and Gettysburg was my immediate choice. For various reasons, Julie and the girls are staying home this time, but I still want to go on my own. Hopefully, I'll be making some new memories, and even be with some old friends again.
For weeks, I've been reading and rewatching DVDs to try to build to this week and I'm raring to go now. I planned originally to go down on Monday, but since that looks like it will be the best day for weather, Julie said I could go down a day early. After Easter ham at my parents house, the girls headed north, back to Cheektowaga, and I headed south. I had my mp3 player filled with several hundred songs from and about the Civil War on it, and it helped take me away. I'm in Bedford, PA, now, but I will be in Gettysburg well before noon and off on a new adventure.
Of course, on the most basic level, there is the story of the battle- hardcore history, to be sure. It's a story of tragedy and chaos, told on a personal level with connections to men like Amos Humiston and Henry Fuller who, like thousands of others, breathed their last there. For those that survived it, the battle was often seen as the supreme moment of their lives. Millions of pages have probably been written about it, by the veterans and others. You can trace an individual or a regiment through so much of those three traumatic days and yet so many mysteries about what really happened seem to remain. The answers seem just within our reach and yet fade away like mist when we try to grasp them.
Then there is the epic story of Gettysburg- the romantic tale told through song and art, novels and movies, and the battlefield itself. It is a grand story. One park ranger called it the "American national epic," and suggested it fills the same spot in our mythos as The Illiad did for the Greeks and The Aeneid did for the Romans. I find more to agree with in his thesis than to argue with. It is this level of Gettysburg that attracts artists and poets, as well as Hollywood, and even the re-enactors and ghost hunters. It is a story that has passed into legend and perhaps even to myth.
And then there is the level of Gettysburg that Tim and Phil called, "the gin joints and junk shops." It is that kitchy Americana that gloms on to any of our treasured national sites. I admit a guilty pleasure of browsing the shops on Steinwehr Ave. There is the huge range of items from museum quality antiques and fine art to the tourist trap cheese that can all be endlessly fascinating.
But it's just beyond that level of Gettysburg that I find, spread over the top of everything else, there is the level of the personal remembrances of friends and family. For me the town positively bristles with places that remind me of events that happened there. Gettysburg seems to have run through my adult life like a golden thread, linking everything together from the big events to the small. There's reminders of friends I haven't seen in a long time, and sometimes friends that are no longer with us. There's places I visited when I first came over 30 years ago. Places where Julie and I visited when we got engaged, or when we came on our honeymoon, or when we were moving to Virginia, or moving back again, and where we said goodbye to the 20th Century. There's places where are daughters roller skated when they were just little girls. Little Anna called the town "Daddysburg" because she misunderstood the word, but the name seemed so appropriate that I've never forgotten it. The stories that fill the town that come from my life seem almost countless.
It's time to go back again. When Julie and the girls went to Disney World this January and I was left behind, I asked myself where I might want to be, and Gettysburg was my immediate choice. For various reasons, Julie and the girls are staying home this time, but I still want to go on my own. Hopefully, I'll be making some new memories, and even be with some old friends again.
For weeks, I've been reading and rewatching DVDs to try to build to this week and I'm raring to go now. I planned originally to go down on Monday, but since that looks like it will be the best day for weather, Julie said I could go down a day early. After Easter ham at my parents house, the girls headed north, back to Cheektowaga, and I headed south. I had my mp3 player filled with several hundred songs from and about the Civil War on it, and it helped take me away. I'm in Bedford, PA, now, but I will be in Gettysburg well before noon and off on a new adventure.
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