My Gettysburg Address
WARNING: SELF-PROMOTION ALERT
Let me say it flat out: next Saturday, July 2, at 9:30 am I'm going to be the first speaker at this year's Gettysburg Sacred Trust Talks and Book Signing at Gettysburg National Military Park. I'm thrilled! So thrilled that I'd put an entire row of exclamation points at the end of the sentence if it weren't the punctuation equivalent of squealing.
Don't expect an immortal two-minute flash of brilliance. Each speaker has 40 minutes to speak, with time for questions at the end. I suspect the organizers would be annoyed with Lincoln himself if he didn't fill his slot.*
You can see all the details of the program here: Sacred Trust Program
If you're in the area, I'd love to see you. If you're not in the area, but are interested in hearing me--or one of the other speakers--the program is going to be live-streamed at http://www.gettysburgfoundation.org/236/sacred-trust-live-streaming You can even tweet your questions in real time to @VisitGettysburg using the hashtag #SacredTrustTalks
Oh, what the heck. Dignity is overrated. !!!!!!!!! SQUEEE!
*On the other hand, they probably have a hook ready to pull anyone off the stage who tries to emulate Edward Everett's** two hours of erudite oration.
**The famous speaker who was the headliner who Lincoln blew off the stage. Not the American character actor. That's Edward Everett Horton.
In Memoriam: Eleanor Zelliot and Gujurati Special Railway Tea
When people ask me what led me to study South Asian history, the first thing I always tell them I fell in love with Rudyard Kipling's Kim when I was eight. The second thing I tell them is that I had a wonderful professor at Carleton who inspired me.
Eleanor Zelliot's memorial service is today. I can't be there in person. Allow me to share this memory with you:
Masala chai--milky, sweet, and rich with spice--was once an Indian restaurant treat. Now it is offered as an exotic alternative in coffee shops and is available as a concentrated syrup on grocery shelves. But for anyone who studied South Asian history at Carleton College in Northfield, Minnesota, between 1969 and 1997, chai is not a product, it’s a memory--eternally linked to Saturday morning classes at Eleanor Zelliot’s house.
I was introduced to Eleanor’s “Special Masala Gujurati Railway Tea” the winter term of my freshman year. I grumbled about the idea of a Saturday class, but I signed up for her History 12 seminar on imperialism anyway, driven by my love for Kipling's Kim, which was part of the curriculum. When I learned that we would meet at Eleanor’s house on Saturdays, I grumbled even more.
Minnesota’s winter had been an unhappy surprise when I came back from the Ozarks after Christmas break. Nothing in my past had prepared me for a wind chill of 40 below and snow that didn’t melt after two days. It was bad enough walking across campus. The thought of walking two blocks off-campus to Eleanor’s little green house was hellish. I pictured a weekly battle against biting wind, knee-deep snow and the uncertainties of walking on icy sidewalks
All my complaints were forgotten as soon as I stepped inside on the first Saturday of the term. Eleanor’s house was a revelation of warmth and comfort, full of deep chairs, Indian art, books, and enthusiastic houseplants. A fireplace took up most of the interior wall and that morning the fire in it was as cheerful as Fezziwig. A row of brightly-colored coffee pots stood warming on the hearth, filling the room with glorious smells of hot cider and something I couldn’t identify. If I hadn't been confused by the unexpected coziness and blinded by my fogged-over glasses, I might have chosen the recognized pleasure of hot cider. Instead, I blindly accepted the mug of chai that one of my classmates thrust into my hands. The unfamiliar drink combined the warmth of Eleanor’s house and the exotic world of Kipling’s India in a mug. It was as innocent as hot cocoa and as sophisticated as mulled wine. I was hooked.
I drank quarts of Eleanor’s chai over the ten weeks of that cold winter term and during the years that followed. Twenty-five years later, chai remains one of my favorite winter treats. I love to recreate that moment of discovery with the welcome of a small fire and a thermos of Eleanor’s chai after a walk on a snowy afternoon. I occasionally buy a cup of coffee shop chai, but I’m always revolted disappointed. The commercial version, made from syrup, is too sweet and too shallow, without the spiced complexity of the real thing. And so I return to Eleanor’s recipe for “Special Masala Gujurati Railway Tea”, with its memories of a cold winter and the beginning of the warmest of friendships.
Eleanor Zelliot’s “Special Masala Gujurati Railway Tea”
(makes 4 teacups or two mugs)
2 cups water
2 cups milk
4 teaspoons black tea
2 cinnamon sticks
12 or more whole cloves
6 or more cardamom pods
2 tablespoons sugar, or to taste
Bring two cups of water to a boil; add tea and half the spices. Steep for 15-20 minutes, until very strong. Meanwhile, heat the milk over a low flame with the remaining spices. Strain the tea into the milk. Heat gently. Remove from stove, stir in sugar to taste, and relax.
Thinking About Stonehenge
As I mentioned in my last blog post, I'm writing a kid's book on the history of architecture.* I just finished a chapter on building in stone: fieldstone walls, pyramids, megaliths and standing stone circles. I wrote several paragraphs about Stonehenge, none of which made it to the final version. I started to recycle them into a blog post,** then I realized that I had already written a much more interesting post about our visit to Stonehenge several years ago.
From the archives:
We caught our first glimpse of Stonehenge from the highway--the familiar stone circle silhouetted against the sky. I felt a flutter of excitement. After all, Stonehenge is a major Bronze Age site, built at roughly the same time as the Great Pyramid at Giza. Like the pyramids, it's built from monolithic stones, some brought from more than 200 miles away. Unlike the pyramids, we don't really know why*** it was built or by whom.**** As far as ancient mysteries go, it's one of the most mysterious.
My Own True Love, who was not really interested, asked "Couldn't we just say we've seen it and drive on?" As it turned out, he had the right idea.
The day was cold and gray. The wind was relentless. The line to get into the site was long. Protestors stood just outside the fence that defined the site, with signs urging that the ongoing excavations be shut down.*****
Once we got past the ticket gate, the day was still cold and the wind was worse. The guidebooks had made it clear that visitors are no longer allowed into the stone circle itself without making special arrangements. Instead, you walk around the monument on a tarmac and grass path made for the purpose. Under the right circumstances, this could be an awe-inspiring experience--like circumambulating a Buddhist stupa. These were not the right circumstances. The crowd moved in clumps, stopping when their audio tours told them to stop and occasionally posing to take each other's pictures with the stones in the background. On a warm day, it might have been festive. As it was, there was a dogged quality to the whole thing. Halfway around the circle, we looked at each other and said, "Let's blow this pop stand."
Close up, the grandeur was gone. We'd have been better off with the view from the highway.
*Thanks to all of you who wrote to me with your own stories of being fascinated by similar books as a kid.
**No sense in letting perfectly good words go to waste.
*** Most scholars believe the circle served as a celestial calendar, based on the alignment of its stones with sunrise and sunset at the summer and winter solstices. Recent discoveries suggest it could be part of a giant mortuary complex (there are some 500 Bronze Age burial mounds within a three-mile radius of the site).
**** But we do know it wasn't the Druids, who date from 1500-2000 years later.
*****The wind was so high that I didn't take notes--a fact I'm kicking myself for in retrospect. My memory tells me the signs cited reverence for a sacred site, reverence for the first kings of Britain, and respect for the dead. All good things--and yet….
Image credit: gianliguori / 123RF Stock Photo