Food in the Civil War

Today marks the 150^th anniversary of the start of the Civil War. Between 1861 and 1865 America lost nearly 620,000 people or roughly two percent of the population. A century and a half later the causes, battles, and soldiers are still scrutinized. However, one aspect that’s often overlooked is the food these fighting men ate. PBS recently re-aired Ken Burns’ master The Civil War. It’s amazing how many soldiers wrote home to their wives or mothers and mentioned their desperate yearn for a good meal.

We don’t focus much on the food of the war because nobody today would ever dream of subsisting on the stuff—unless, of course, you’re a Civil War re-enactor, in which case attention to period detail (including the food) is vital. In author Tony Horowitz’s Confederates in the Attic, he camps out for a night with some hardcore re-enactors in rural Virginia. The men search Horowitz’s knapsack and root out all food-related contraband—the Granny Smith apples he had packed were nothing like the fruit available during the war. Horowitz dreamed of sitting around a campfire slurping bubbling Irish stew. The truth couldn’t be further from that ideal.

On paper, the official ration list of the Union soldier sounds well and good: biscuits, meat, beans, rice, potatoes (when practical), molasses, and coffee. Problem was, that list only existed on paper. When an army was on the march for twenty-miles a day, the wagon trains of food were often at the end of the line. When it came to battle, the men could go days without a solid meal.

In Michael Shaara’s Pulitzer-Prize winning novel about Gettysburg, The Killer Angels, Union hero Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain practically saves the entire army with his 20^th Maine regiment on Little Round Top. However, after a fierce fight, his men went hours without a solid meal—a time when they needed it the most. This was often to be expected for men in the field.

Early in the war, the Union tried to give each brigade a cook. However, he could barely keep up with demand. By 1863, each company had a designated cook—usually a man untrained in the kitchen with only the official U.S. Army cookbook for guidance.

The main snack—and sometimes meal—the Union troops ate was called hard tack. This was a double-baked cracker in about a 3-inch square. One soldier said the stuff was so hard it could stop bullets. Most soldiers had to soak it in water or else risk breaking their teeth. Confederates were issued cornbread—when they had it—but often ate hard tack as well since cornbread tended to crumble in knapsacks during a march.

Both armies loved coffee. Union troops ground the beans with their rifle butts and boiled it over a fire. If they were on the march, they chewed the grounds like tobacco. Southern troops loved coffee as well, but found it harder to come by—sometimes the two sides would swap tobacco for coffee. Often, the Confederates took to making an impromptu coffee out of well-roasted peanuts, acorns, or rye.

If the men ate meat, it was most often heavily brined in salt. The pork was intended to last two years, if that gives you idea of the sheer amount of salt that went into the meat. Before eating, the meat had to be soaked to lose some of the salt—but that also took off much of the meat. What was left tasted bad and was loaded with worms. New troops would pick out the grubs. Veterans joked it was at least a source of protein. The men preferred to fry anything in grease, assuming they had it. However, any man with a weak constitution developed old soldier’s disease—what we’d use some Pepto Bismol to cure that today. Perhaps it’s no surprise that given this malnourished diet, disease killed twice as many men as battle.

If you want even a slight hint of what the food was like, you have your choice. If you happen to visit Gettysburg in the coming years (the beginning of July, 2013 marks the 150^th anniversary of the battle and upwards of 25,000 re-enactors are expected to be on hand to re-live that famous fight), you can eat some of the famous war food at the Refreshment Saloon in the Visitor Center. The menu includes beef stew, chicken potpie, and chili served over cornbread. However, if you were a soldier at Gettysburg, any of those dishes would have been one of the best meals you’d have eaten in several months. The period food at the Refreshment Saloon varies by season, but sometimes the kitchen does serve peanut soup.

I’ll admit to my Yanknee-ness here: before I moved to the South, I’d never heard or tasted peanut soup. Sure, I loved peanuts—who doesn’t—but in a soup? Turns out that peanuts played a major role in Civil War food. Soldiers on both sides made peanut soup by boiling peanuts in water along with a little ham for extra flavor. There was no recipe for the soup—the amount of ingredients largely depended upon what was on hand. Luckily, it’s much easier to eat a bowl of peanut soup today. It’s also tastier and healthier.

In fact, one of my favorite food artisans here in Central Virginia makes a great peanut soup. Whether you’re from north or south, east or west, this is a soup that defies location, but it’s also a food rich in history (thus, even more enjoyable for history buffs like me). Check out Montebello Kitchens’ Traditional Virginian Peanut Soup—the aromatic warmth envelopes your kitchen and the rich, smooth flavor delights your mouth. Yet again, I’m amazed by another Southern specialty that I had never heard about. The amazing history of peanut soup begins and extends beyond just the Civil War—check out this post to learn some more.

The carnage that men on both sides faced during the Civil War is impossible to fathom today. So was their hunger. 150 years later, far removed from the chaos of a nation divided, there many things. However, just like those fighting men, all of us continue to cherish and value a solid, peaceful meal surrounded by loved ones.

Gabe and Jay’s Oscar Picks: 2011

Gabe and Jay’s Oscar Picks: 2011

Ten years ago, the world witnessed the start of a literary phenomenon—Gabe Spece and Jay Varner contributed their first column of Oscar picks in The Crusader, Susquehanna University’s campus newspaper. The column took up an entire page and then some, receiving the wrath of copy-editors, section-editors, and editors-in-chief. It was read by approximately twenty-five percent of Crusader readers—which themselves were made up of about thirty-five percent of the study body. So, like fifty people (it was a small school). Still, that didn’t stop this duo from analyzing the Oscar nominees with a self-importance not even Pauline Kael or Roger Ebert ever showed. And the columns have become legendary—at least in the minds of Gabe and Jay.

In honor of this journalistic milestone, we’re doing it again this year. The Academy Awards are Sunday night. Get your popcorn ready.

 

Best Supporting Actor

Christian Bale (The Fighter)

Why He’ll Win: No one emaciates himself for art quite like Bale (see The Machinist, Rescue Dawn, Newsies)

Why He Won’t: Someone paid off the Academy?

But Seriously: This one belongs to Bale. Authentic, vivid portrayal of a broken man. This performance will stick with you for days.

 

John Hawkes (Winter’s Bone)

Why He’ll Win: Hahaha, win?! Yeah. You’re funny.

Why He Won’t: His character is a meth maker. His character is named Teardrop. His character slams a woman into a refrigerator at one point. Shall I keep going?

But Seriously: Amazing, gritty performance from a veteran character actor. He won’t win, but hopefully this will ensure more quality roles in the future.

 

Mark Ruffalo (The Kids Are All Right)

Why He’ll Win: He’s a womanizing, pot-smoking motorcyclist who meets his biological children for the first time in 20 years and then beds their lesbian mother. Who can’t relate to this?!

Why He Won’t: It’s because of him that we once again had to see Julianne Moore sans clothes. Really, again?!

But Seriously: Ruffalo is good, but this movie belongs to its two powerful lead actresses.

 

Jeremy Renner (The Town)

Why He’ll Win: His Bahstun accent was the perfect mix of regional dialect and pure gibberish.

Why He Won’t: He’s not even the most convincing Bostonian in this category.

But Seriously: Renner is damn talented, as evidence by back-to-back Oscar nods. Unfortunately, he’s up against too many other talented players here. He’ll get his award, but not tonight.

 

Geoffrey Rush (The King’s Speech)

Why He’ll Win: British, British, British.

Why He Won’t: No one steals the spotlight from Colin Firth. NO ONE!

But Seriously: Another solid performance from Rush. If King’s Speech steamrolls on Oscar night, Rush could very well win his second statue.

 

 

Best Supporting Actress

Amy Adams (The Fighter)

Why She Will: Everyone likes to see the pretty get all uglied up for a movie.

Why She Won’t: Her best performance this year was obviously Leap Year.

But Seriously: Again, she’s tremendously talented. And this is the toughest category this year. There’s a shot she will win.

 

Helena Bonham Carter (The King’s Speech)

Why She Will: If Academy gives her the award, she may face same career troubles as other recent winners in this category and thus disappear from public sight.

Why She Won’t: Crippling fear of what she will wear and how her hair will looks makes Academy members squeamish.

But Seriously: If the movie goes on a run, it could happen. But it’s Firth’s movie.

 

Melissa Leo (The Fighter)

Why She Will: Her ridiculous Oscar campaign featuring dolled-up pictures showed Academy voters how much she really acted.

Why She Won’t: Her ridiculous Oscar campaign featuring dolled-up pictures showed Academy voters how much she really acted.

But seriously: That Oscar campaign really did hurt her, no matter the reasons.

 

Hailee Steinfeld (True Grit)

Why She Will: Everyone loves to see kids get it!

Why She Won’t: She’s just a kid. Come on!

But Seriously: Academy does have a habit of awarding this to young actresses, and Steinfeld might pull an upset with her funny and hardened performance.

 

Jacki Weaver (Animal Kingdom)

Why She Will: Academy loves voting for movies no one has heard about.

Why She Won’t: This is a movie, right?

But Seriously: Very few people saw this movie, despite being a great flick.

 

 

Best Actor

Javier Bardem (Biutiful)

Why He Will: Too handsome to deny.

Why He Won’t: Too handsome, and we all hate that.

But Seriously: He’s one of the best actors of his generation, but this is a little-seen film that didn’t receive great reviews.

 

Jeff Bridges (True Grit)

Why He Will: Even on the shoulders of Crazy Heart, Academy still trying to make up for The Big Lebowski oversight.

Why He Won’t: Speaking all dialogue with a mouthful of chewing tobacco made it hard to understand him.

But Seriously: He just won last year even though this is the better performance. Doesn’t have the momentum he had last year.

 

Jesse Eisenberg (The Social Network)

Why He Will: Academy loved his work in Arrested Development and Superbad.

Why He Won’t: Playing an amplified jerky version of normal neurotic role.

But Seriously: He is typecast, but delivers a very difficult role of an unsympathetic character. Still, he needs to show a little more range before getting Oscar.

 

Colin Firth (The King’s Speech)

Why He Will: Sometimes all points of the universe align and there’s no way stopping fate. This is one of those times.

Why He Won’t: Um, yeah, we’ve got nothing.

But Seriously: He’s probably already cleared the spot where this is going to go. He’s a fine actor and does give a great performance here.

 

James Franco (127 Hours)

Why He Will: Method-actor Franco actually amputated an arm in preparation for the role. During filming, he amputated the other arm.

Why He Won’t: No longer having arms will make handing him the statue very awkward.

But Seriously: He’s a great actor, but this move wasn’t seen by many. He’ll win, but not this time around.

 

 

Best Actress in a Motion Picture

Annette Benning (The Kids Are All Right)

Why She’ll Win: Because we finally forgive her for being an awful mother in American Beauty.

Why She Won’t: Warren Beaty is a douche.

But Seriously: I think Benning is a shoe-in…for second place. Subtle, lived-in performance but it begged the nagging question “Couldn’t Julianne Moore just as likely have been nominated instead?”

 

Nicole Kidman (Rabbit Hole)

Why She’ll Win: Keith Urban needs some good press for his new album.

Why She Won’t: Audiences tend to squirm at the sight of her botoxed face.

But Seriously: Great performance in a movie that too many people didn’t get a chance to see.

 

Jennifer Lawrence (Winter’s Bone)

Why She’ll Win: (Spoiler Alert) She skinned a squirrel and cut off a dead man’s hand for God’s sake. What else do you want?

Why She Won’t: Seriously, she skinned a squirrel. The uppity, left-wing Academy won’t look kindly upon that bit of animal cruelty.

But Seriously: Masterful performance in one of the year’s darkest films. In a less-qualified field, Lawrence would be the runaway choice. Instead, she’ll have to wait at least another year to hear her name called.

 

Natalie Portman (Black Swan)

Why She’ll Win: Portman, like her character, is a perfectionist. Also like her character, she can make her eyes run red with blood and sprout wings from her back if you upset her.

Why She Won’t: Baby bump. In a dress.

But Seriously: No one deserves this award more than Portman. Her masterful performance is one that transcends genre, age, and gender and lands somewhere near the top of the list of all time great performances. Period.

 

Michelle Williams (Blue Valentine)

Why She’ll Win: James Van Der Beek gets to cast 20 ballots himself.

Why She Won’t: The last woman the Academy awarded for a sexually expressive and uninhibited performance was Jodie Foster in The Silence of the Lambs.

But Seriously: Williams is the spoiler. Her heart-breaking turn as a woman on the brink of divorce (and mental collapse) was jaw-droppingly good. I won’t be surprised if she steals this one right out from under Portman.

 

 

Best Director

Darren Aronofsky (Black Swan)

Why He’ll Win: The power of the mustache knows no bounds.

Why He Won’t: His film touched upon very difficult themes of sexual desire, crushing parental control, ballet.

But Seriously: Aronofsky deserves this, having crafted a beautifully twisted film set in the world of ballet. He could pull it off, but it seems unlikely.

 

David O. Russell (The Fighter)

Why He’ll Win: Because the man needs to finally be recognized for the sheer genius that was Flirting with Disaster.

Why He Won’t: By casting Mark Wahlberg in his film, Russell reminded us of what we desperately wanted to forget: The Happening.

But Seriously: Russell’s direction is flawless and his actors received three nominations. In any other year…

 

Tom Hopper (The King’s Speech)

Why He’ll Win: The Academy loves those wacky camera angles! It’s so avant-garde.

Why He Won’t: Isn’t this why they created the BAFTA’s?! Stay on your own side, Hopper!

But Seriously: Hopper and fellow nominee Fincher are neck-and-neck right now. It literally could go either way, but I’m leaning towards…

 

David Fincher (The Social Network)

Why He’ll Win: Because he’s trying so hard to convince everyone that he doesn’t care. And if there’s one thing the Academy loves, it’s faux-humility.

Why He Won’t: Does anyone want to watch him do 99 takes of his acceptance speech?

But Seriously: Fincher inches out Hopper for the award, if for no other reason than the show-stopping Henley Royal Regatta sequence. Pure cinematic gold!

 

Joel & Ethan Coen (True Grit)

Why They’ll Win: Good will. The Academy loves the Coen brothers. Apparently the Academy never saw Intolerable Cruelty.

Why They Won’t: There are still jackasses out there who think the ending of No Country for Old Men “sucked”.

But Seriously: Let’s be honest here: this was a good, but not great, outing from the Coen’s. They’ve done better and they’ll win this award again, but not this year.

 

Best Motion Picture of the Year

 

127 Hours

Why It Will: If it doesn’t win, the ever-busy James Franco will write a sequel novel, edit together a nine-hour documentary using outtakes, teach four classes at Yale on the film, and generally just keep working.

Why It Won’t: The guy saws his freaking arm off.

But Seriously: Well-reviewed, but surprisingly under the radar for the most part. Doesn’t seem to have the same love as Boyle’s Slumdog Millionaire.

 

Black Swan

Why It Will: In recent years, the Academy has proven to be racially accepting and should have no problem getting over the color barrier.

Why It Won’t: I’ve heard the director wears both a mustache and a scarf. That’s just too much precious pretention even by Hollywood standards.

But Seriously: There’s an outside shot that it could win if The Social Network and The King’s Speech split the vote. But it seems awfully edgy for a conservative Academy.

 

The Fighter

Why It Will: Because Mark Wahlberg will punch you if it doesn’t. And David O. Russell will berate you in front of all your co-workers.

Why It Won’t: Yes, he’s fighting, but not against social injustice. Ultimately, just not Academy’s thing.

But Seriously: It’s a fine film with great performances, but ultimately, it’s the performances that drive an otherwise average sports movie.

 

Inception

Why It Will: Because the Academy has shown they love to embrace challenging and intriguing science fiction films.

Why It Won’t: See above, except make opposite statement.

But Seriously: Chris Nolan is not nominated for director (a shame) and that’s pretty much the movie’s death knell.

 

The Kids Are All Right

Why It Will: They mistake it for that documentary about teachers that didn’t get nominated for Best Documentary and vote for it out of guilt.

Why It Won’t: Academy finally tires of constant Jullianne Moore nudity.

But Seriously: Another indie recognized. And that’s that.

 

The King’s Speech

Why It Will: It’s Mirimax, and they know how to campaign. Stuffy, portentous, and self-important—yeah, that’s enough.

Why It Won’t: Piers Morgan sure loves it, and the Academy is still missing Larry King. Also, fears that the acceptance speech will indeed be stuttered and run broadcast way over limit.

But Seriously: It’s a strong contender, but might come in second. Ultimately, it’s a glorified television film with good performances.

 

The Social Network

Why It Will: Because the downfall of MySpace perfectly captures the crumbling economic times. Wait… what? It’s not about that? Well crap.

Why It Won’t: Ultimately about a technological movement that’s sixty years ahead of most Academy voters. Case in point: this year’s ballots were submitted via a complex message in a bottle system.

But Seriously: It is timely and relevant. It’s almost the most thrillingly well-made movie of that year that fires on all levels.

 

Toy Story 3

Why It Will: Academy has been looking for the right Tim Allen project for years to award Best Picture after For Richer or Poorer was shut-out.

Why It Won’t: Academy voters were whimpering and crying at the end, thus rendering their ballots nothing more than soggy pulp.

But Seriously: Nice to see Toy Story 3 and Pixar get the nod for Best Picture—it’s a recognition of their work. And nothing more.

 

True Grit

Why It Will: It’s the Coens! It’s the Coens! It’s the Coens!

Why It Won’t: Academy usually steers clear of enjoyable, crowd-pleasing movies that actually enthrall audiences.

But Seriously: It’s a great movie, but it lacks some of the gravitas of other Coen Brothers movies.

 

Winter’s Bone

Why It Will: One word: meth!

Why It Won’t: Academy has never recognized a movie with such a possibly pornographic title.

But Seriously: It’s ultimately just too dark for Academy members despite its brilliance.

A Sad, Stalled Life? Hardly.

There’s a scene in the 1999 movie Election when Tracy Flick, the relentless go-getter so perfectly portrayed by Reese Witherspoon, ponders what the life of her high school social studies teacher Mr. McAllister must be like.  Here is a man who stands in the classroom all year, giving—or at least trying to give—students the boost they need for life after high school.  They will go on to greater and better things, but Mr. McAllister remains in his same spot in the classroom, running through the same topics.  That seems like a sad, stalled life to Tracy.  But I think Tracy (or, more accurately, Tom Perrotta, whose novel was the basis for the movie) hits upon something very true—while it’s sometimes bittersweet to see students move on, teachers could often never ask for a greater gift than knowing they had made a difference in someone’s life.

I’ve had the chance to work one-on-one with students.  In doing that, I not only see their strengths and weaknesses, but I get to know them.  I know what kind of movies they like, what movies they listen, what sports they play.  Some people might say that this won’t help them write better sentences or perform better on the SAT but I would disagree.  Knowing a student on this level creates a level of comfort in a student that’s often necessary.  Let’s face it, sometimes people don’t want to receive tutoring.  It’s awkward—I remember how much I struggled in math throughout school.  It was embarrassing to stand up at the chalkboard and reprint the algebra problem from the nigh before.  The problem I nearly always butchered.  Behind me were classmates—and, more importantly to my high school mind, girls—excelling while I piddled away at remainders.  The last thing I wanted was to stay later after school—after school!—and speak to my math teacher.  But I was lucky to have a teacher generous enough to stay past the final bell and sit down next to students.  Suddenly I wasn’t standing at the chalkboard in front of the entire class.  I was at a desk and my teacher was right next to me.  That mattered.  Those problems didn’t seem so big anymore.  Math didn’t seen like some secret code I couldn’t crack.

Now, when I worked with a student, I’m not standing at the front of the classroom like Mr. McAllister—and no disrespect for Mr. McAllister—but I’m sitting down next to the student.  I’m looking him in the eye, I’m reading right along in the text, and I’m probing and questioning.  And I’m connecting—I want that same level of comfort I experienced in high school, college, and grad school, the same comfort I tried to create in my classrooms, present when I sit down with a student.

This past week, I saw a student I worked with for ten weeks head off to take a standardized test.  Sure, there was some sadness.  I looked forward to working with him, enjoyed the conversations, and especially enjoyed seeing the progress he made as a reader and writer.  And yes, I was also a bit nervous for him—more than anything, I wanted him to perform well on the test.  But, ultimately, I knew that he could do well.  And that he would.  And if Tracy Flick or anyone else finds that depressing, they need to realize just who it was that taught them anything in the first place.

 

This was originally posted on http://championtutoring.wordpress.com/

New Movie Rating System for Animal Deaths?

There’s been a lot of criticism in recent years directed toward the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) and their movie rating systems.  How do you separate an R and a PG-13?  A PG and a PG-13?  A G and a PG?  Or, most controversially, an NC-17 and an R?  Sometimes the ratings based on language, violence, and sex can seem entirely arbitrary—and, if you’re interested in more on this, check out the great documentary This Film Is Not Yet Rated (which, coincidentally, was released without a rating). Parents certainly want to shield their kids from all of the things the MPAA looks for in movies.  And, this is entirely a parent’s choice—at what age is a child mature enough to view things like violence and sex in the context of a film?  It’s no doubt different for each child.  However, one that always affects me—and that isn’t even rated in films—are animal deaths on the screen.

Turner and Hooch: Tom Hanks was so distraught after this film, he made The Bonfire of the Vanities.

Let’s take Titanic—everyone has probably seen it, so no spoiler alerts needed.  When Leonardo DiCaprio floats down into that icy cold water, it’s a sad moment.  But what if instead of dear Leo it was Kate Winslett’s beloved collie dog?  Oh, I don’t think I would have seen that film four times in the theater (yes, I did; get over it).  Now, let’s try this in reverse.  When Mufasa falls to his death in The Lion King, little Simba tries to prod his father awake.  Okay, I’m teary-eyed right now even remembering this.  But if it was a man that fell to his death instead of a lion?  Eh.

Now, you can make the argument that a human’s life is always more valuable than that of a dog.  And I would agree with this.  But why does an animal death in a movie usually affect me way more than a human character?  All of us have had pets—dogs or cats—and we’ve bonded with them.  Who can ever forget the first day you had the animal?  The joy, the entertainment?  And the years of faithful companionship they deliver.  But, sooner or later, the day comes when we, the owners, have to make that awful choice.  These are memories that stay with us just as strongly as losing any human, also a devastating part of life.  And yet it’s the animals dying in films that strike me the hardest.  And I’m not alone in this.  My wife is every bit as susceptible to the deaths of animals on the screen.

And what do we do about new movies?  How are we to know what happens?  There was an independent film that came out last year called Wendy and Lucy.  It starred Michelle Williams and her dog. Every time it popped up on the Netflix cue, we both kind of shrugged and bumped it off the top of the list for something else.  And we still haven’t watched the movie—we’re both fans of Williams and of the director’s previous films—but since the dog is practically a co-star, there’s a chance that the dog could die.  Or at least be in some kind of awful peril.

So, that’s why I propose something new for the MPAA to rate: animal deaths.  Save those of us prone to weepy-eyed grief over animals the pain.  Heck, it was even hard to watch the horse die in True Grit—and that was something integral to the plot and the characters in the film.

Now, once this come into effect, I realize that we might need to retroactively go back and re-rate some movies.  Below are films that will certainly be rated R:

Old Yeller

Bambi

Turner and Hooch

I Am Legend

Where the Red Fern Grows

Marley and Me

My Dog Skip

Some of these movies are downright sadistic for animal lovers—Old Yeller, Bambi, Where the Red Fern Grows.  You know, maybe there’s some truth to that old saying that Disney had a way of breaking our hearts, or scarring us permanently for life.  We’ve either seen these already or have heard what happens.  No need to go sadistic on each other.  But, I found My Dog Skip (which I have watched) every bit as disturbing as the recent crop of torture porn in films like Saw or Hostel (which I’ve only seen clips of).  Those horror movies were gruesome and bloody.  My Dog Skip was practically Puritan in its cleanliness.  Yet, I’m going to remember that closing voice-over much more than I’ll remember however some character was dismembered.

Sure, there are still some details to work out in this system.  Like anything, it will take time.  But this new system will help parents, children, and those of us who just love animals.  So come on MPAA, get to work.

Tetris, Personal Essays, and “Under the Influence”

I’m teaching a class here in Charlottesville for WriterHouse, a nonprofit that “promotes the creation and appreciation of literature and to encourage the development of writers of all levels by providing affordable, secure workspace and meeting space, high quality writing instruction, and literary events for the public.”  And what a job they do.  I’m incredibly grateful for the chance to be in a classroom again—it’s a dream, really.  We’re workshopping pieces by class members and, of course, we’re reading some of the great pieces of nonfiction—at least, as defined by yours truly.

First up is “Under the Influence” by Scott Russell Sanders.  If you haven’t read it, do so immediately—it’s one of the best examples of the personal essay.  And, for that matter, just what is a personal essay?  It’s my favorite form in the nonfiction genre and the one where I feel most at home.  But for a good definition, I’ll direct you toward Phillip Lopate’s amazing introduction to The Art of the Personal Essay.  Lopate is a fine writer—don’t get me wrong—but this introduction is the best thing he’s ever written.  It’s witty, concise, and perfectly defines the genre.  Here’s an excerpt on how defines a personal essay:

This book attempts to put forward and interpret a tradition: the personal essay. Though long spoken of as a subcategory of the essay, the personal essay has rarely been isolated and studied as such. It should certainly be celebrated, because it is one of the most approachable and diverting types of literature we possess.

The hallmark of the personal essay is its intimacy. The writer seems to be speaking directly into your ear, confiding everything from gossip to wisdom. Through sharing thoughts, memories, desires, complaints, and whimsies, the personal essayist sets up a relationship with the reader, a dialogue–a friendship, if you will, based on identification, understanding, testiness, and companionship.

* * *

The personal essayist must above all be a reliable narrator; we must trust his or her core of sincerity. We must also feel secure that the essayist has done a fair amount of introspective homework already, is grounded in reality, and is trying to give us the maximum understanding and intelligence of which he or she is capable. A dunderhead and a psychotic killer may be sincere, but that would not sufficiently recommend them for the genre…

How the world comes at another person, the irritations, jubilations, aches and pains, humorous flashes–these are the classic building materials of the personal essay. We learn the rhythm by which the essayist receives, digests, and spits out the world, and we learn the shape of his or her privacy.

* * *

The essay is a notoriously flexible and adaptable form. It possesses the freedom to move anywhere, in all directions. It acts as if all objects were equally near the center and as if “all subjects are linked to each other” (Montaigne) by free association. This freedom can be daunting, not only for the novice essayist confronting such latitude but for the critic attempting to pin down its formal properties…

The essayist attempts to surround a something–a subject, a mood, a problematic irritation–by coming at it from all angles, wheeling and diving like a hawk, each seemingly digressive spiral actually taking us closer to the heart of the matter.

* * *

There is something heroic in the essayist’s gesture of striking out toward the unknown, not only without a map but without certainty that there is anything worthy to be found. One would like to think that the personal essay represents a kind of basic research on the self, in ways that are allied with science and philosophy….

Still, we must not make excessive claims. The essay is not, for the most part, philosophy; nor is it yet science. How seriously ought we to take its claims of being experimental? It lacks the rigor of a laboratory experiment; it does not hold on to its hypotheses long enough to prove them. But it is what it is: a mode of inquiry, another way of getting at the truth.

So, what makes Sanders’ piece so plonking great (apologies to Caroline Leavitt—I stole her favorite term “plonking”)?

How about the first line: “My father drank.”  It’s unadorned, it’s simple, it’s to the point, and it tells you right now what this essay is going to be about.  And then he ramps things up—this guy didn’t just drink, he DRANK.  Like a gut-punched boxer gasping for air, a starving dog gobbling food.  And that’s what killed his father.  Sorry for the spoiler, but it’s right there in the first paragraph so we know this thing isn’t going to be about the man’s slide into the disease—there’s something else happening here.  And, as nimble as can be, Sanders slides right into flashback, pulling us into a specific scene.  Grounding us, rooting us, allowing us to see his father.  It’s a scene that’s a little amusing—the father seems kind of funny with a little buzz.  But that buzz turns into a terrifying full-on drunk.

Sanders masterfully uses page breaks.  From that opening page and a half—breathless in its movement, specifics, and emotion—he opens things wide.  He talks about society, how we portray drunks.  He’s doing just what Lopate said: pulling in everything he can, going at this from every angle.  Why?  Because it all relates, it’s relevant.  And for Sanders, or any essayist, he has to figure out how he feels on a subject.  We don’t make up on our minds on something based on just one example—well, we probably shouldn’t, at least.  Sanders sure isn’t going to do that.  Later on, he pulls on poetry, the Bible, Kafka, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hide.  And, utilizing the nonfiction writer’s greatest tool, he uses metaphor.  His family grew up near an ammunitions dump—bombs exploded with no warning, just like his father.  It’s a brief paragraph but it’s the perfect detail.

There’s great movement to this piece.  One analogy I think about when it comes to writing personal essays is Tetris.  Yes, blame it on the video game player in me, but blocks come down on the screen, you line up the colors, and boom—you get some points.  Well, in an essay, those blocks are whatever section you’re writing about—let’s say, for Sanders, it’s that great passage about how his parents met each other.  He doesn’t

reveal this until ¾ of the way through the essay.  By that point we’ve seen relationships and a marriage ravaged by alcoholism—but, when he was writing, he probably was moving these ideas and scenes around, playing to see how they bounced off one another, and then he realized that this was the perfect spot.  Sure, we would have felt an emotional pang if we started with a happy marriage, kids, and then the father’s slide into alcoholism.  But this way, we see the damage first, and only then do we get to see the promise of what could have been in that marriage.  Boom—Sanders just eliminated a line of blocks in his Tetris game, scored some points.

So, is there an epiphany here?  Somewhat.  But I like that the essay challenges the notion that essays must have an epiphany.  Sanders comes to realizations, but none of them are particularly easy.  He’s still haunted by guilt, shame, and embarrassment.  Surprise, surprise, I’m not a big fan of happy endings or feel-goodery.  Nothing is as simple as black and white in life, and neither is this essay.  If someone asked me to name the perfect personal essay, it’s this one, and I’ve barely touched the surface.  Follow that link at the beginning of this post and read it for yourself.

Another Idiot Talks About the Oscars

Hey, I have to put this film minor to use somehow, right?  I’m a huge film buff, and nothing gets my excitement like the Academy Awards.  Usually.  This year, there are few surprises in the bunch.  Most of these could be called from a mile away.  And I’m still not a fan of the expanded best picture field—just too many movies, even though it does allow some smaller films to get recognition.

BEST PICTURE “127 Hours”
”Black Swan”
”The Fighter”
”Inception”
”The Kids Are All Right”
”The King’s Speech”
”The Social Network”
”Toy Story 3″
”True Grit”
”Winter’s Bone”

This is a no-brainer for me.  The Social Network was far and away the best film I saw of 2010.  It was thrilling, enthralling,

Nice to see Toy Story get some love.  And, with the expanded field, indies are represented with Winter’s Bone and The Kids Are All Right.  I doubt 127 Hours has much of a chance at anything, nor does The Fighter.  True Grit could split the votes between The Kind’s Speech and The Social Network.  But it wouldn’t surprise me to see the Academy shy away from something like The Social Network—fast, important commentary on modern life—and go with the more stodgy historical dram.

ACTOR IN A LEADING ROLE Javier Bardem for “Biutiful”
Jeff Bridges for “True Grit”
Jesse Eisenberg for “The Social Network”
Colin Firth for “The King’s Speech”
James Franco for “127 Hours”

Bridges all the way.  Sure, he won last year, and he wasn’t bad in that movie—but, off the top of my head, I kind of forget the name of that movie.  However, count him out of the running along with Eisenberg (his best role to date, but too cold for voters).  Bardem is always great, but his film isn’t receiving acclaim, though his performance is—still, that’s not a good sign.  Franco is a fine actor, but he’s been all over the map this year with soap operas, art projects, and books.  I think it’s Firth’s to lose.

ACTRESS IN A LEADING ROLE Annette Benning for “The Kids Are All Right”
Nicole Kidman for “Rabbit Hole”
Jennifer Lawrence for “Winter’s Bone”
Natalie Portman for “Black Swan”
Michelle Williams for “Blue Valentine”

The only one in this category who has even received much attention is Portman.  Williams probably was more subtle and nuanced in her role, but it’s bleak.  Jennifer Lawrence, who won’t win, should be proud that she was nominated for a gritty, hard role.  Kidman?  This ain’t the Golden Globes and her movie is a depression-fest.  Benning is a fine actress, but doubtful to get the energy of voters for Portman who came into her own this year.

DIRECTING Darren Aronofsky for “Black Swan”
David O. Russell for “The Fighter”
Tom Hooper for “The King’s Speech”
David Fincher for “The Social Network”
Joel & Ethan Coen for “True Grit”

Not quite sure how Russell got on this list over Chris Nolan.  Seriously, what does Nolan have to do to get recognized as a director?  The Coens crafted a finely filmed movie, but I don’t see them getting it for something that perhaps lacks the gravitas of something like No Country for Old Men.  Aronofsky certainly is promoting himself (along with his scarf and sleezey mustache).  And Hooper gets lots of attention as well, though I find his style irritating and distracting from the story—he’s too self-conscious.  My money is on Fincher, who made the best movie of his career with The Social Network.  He’s artful, inventive, and creates fantastic dread and excitement in the movie.

ACTOR IN A SUPPORTING ROLE Christian Bale for “The Fighter”
Mark Ruffalo for “The Kids Are All Right”
Geoffrey Rush for “The King’s Speech”
Jeremy Renner for “The Town”
John Hawkes for “Winter’s Bone”

If it was up to me?  John Hawkes.  I love the guy.  Look, it’ll come down to Bale vs. Rush.  And Rush, in yet another dreary stiff upper lip role, will certainly win over the scraggly Bale.

ACTRESS IN A SUPPORTING ROLE Amy Adams for “The Fighter”
Helena Bonham Carter for “The King’s Speech”
Melissa Leo for “The Fighter”
Hailee Steinfeld for “True Grit”
Jacki Weaver for “Animal Kingdom”

Melissa Leo or Hailee Steinfeld?  Leo has been one of the best for a long, long time.  It’s so nice to see her get notice—and she should have won for Frozen River a few years back.  Steinfeld, who should be a lead, was a knockout as a new-comer.  But Adams turns up the grit and loses the sweetness.

FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM “Biutiful” – Mexico
”Dogtooth” – Greece
”In a Better World” – Denmark
”Incendies” – Canada
”Hors la Loi” (“Outside the Law”) – Algeria

Since I’ve seen none of these, I can’t even hazard a guess.

ANIMATED FEATURE FILM “How To Train Your Dragon”
”The Illusionist”
”Toy Story 3″

Come on?  Pixar.

SCREENPLAY (Adapted) Michael Arndt for “Toy Story 3″
Simon Beaufoy & Danny Boyle for “127 Hours”
Joel & Ethan Coen for “True Grit”
Aaron Sorkin for “The Social Network”
Debra Granki, Anne Rosellini for “Winter’s Bone”

True Grit sure captured that novel.  So did Winter’s Bone.  And The Social Network is pretty much flawless.  I’ll say the Coens by a hair.

SCREENPLAY (Original) Mike Leigh for “Another Year”
Lisa Cholodenko, Stuart Blumberg for “The Kids Are All Right”
Christopher Nolan for “Inception”
David Seidler for “The King’s Speech”
Scott Silver, Paul Tamasy, Eric Johnson, Keith Dorrington for “The Fighter”

Much as I’d like to see Nolan recognized for his ingenious script, The King’s Speech will get it—too much momentum.

ART DIRECTION “Alice in Wonderland”
”Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part One”
”Inception”
”The King’s Speech”
”True Grit”

I’m guessing King’s Speech on this one.

CINEMATOGRAPHY “Black Swan”
”Inception”
”The King’s Speech”
”The Social Network”
”True Grit”

Roger Deakins is the best working today—if he loses for True Grit, it had better go The Social Network’s wonderful use of dreary colors to create a perfect mood.

COSTUME DESIGN “Alice in Wonderland”
”I Am Love”
”The King’s Speech”
”The Tempest”
”True Grit”

Probably The Tempest, simply because it used the most creativity.

DOCUMENTARY FEATURE “Exit Through the Gift Shop”
”Gasland”
”Inside Job”
”Restrepo”
”Waste Land”

Inside Job—timely, important, devastating.

DOCUMENTARY SHORT SUBJECT “Killing in the Name”
”Poster Girl”
”Strangers No More”
”Sun Come Up”
”The Warriors of Qiugang”

I have no idea.

FILM EDITING “127 Hours”
”Black Swan”
”The Fighter”
”The King’s Speech”
”The Social Network”

I say The Social Network—the movie flies by.  And watch the Henley race sequence—flawless editing in the best scene from a movie this year.

MAKEUP “Barney’s Version”
”The Way Back”
”The Wolfman”

Something like The Wolfman could only win this category.

MUSIC (SCORE) A.R. Rahman for “127 Hours”
John Powell for “How To Train Your Dragon”
Hans Zimmer for “Inception”
Alexandre Desplat for “The King’s Speech”
Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross for “The Social Network”

My favorite category!  Zimmer’s score is phenomenal, but Reznor and Ross perfectly fit the movie.  Likely to be too contemporary for the Academy though, so look for King’s Speech to win again.

MUSIC (SONG) ‘Coming Home’ from “Country Strong”
’I See the Light’ from “Tangled”
’If I Rise’ from “127 Hours”
’We Belong Together” from “Toy Story 3″

I guess Toy Story?

SHORT FILM (ANIMATED) “Day & Night”
”The Gruffalo”
”Let’s Pollute”
”The Lost Thing”
”Madagascar, a Journey Diary”

Pick one.

SHORT FILM (LIVE ACTION) “The Confession”
”The Crush”
”God of Love”
”Na Wewe”
”Wish 143″

Pick one.  No idea.

SOUND EDITING “Inception”
”Toy Story 3″
”Tron: Legacy”
”True Grit”
”Unstoppable”

I’ll say Inception.  It’s big and loaded with action, usually hard to edit.

SOUND MIXING “Inception”
”The King’s Speech”
”Salt”
”The Social Network”
”True Grit”

Social Network—notice the work of the music in the club scene with Mark and Sean.  Music swells, dialogue is nearly blocked, then comes back.

VISUAL EFFECTS “Alice in Wonderland”
”Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part One”
”Hereafter”
”Inception”
”Iron Man 2″

Inception.  It sure should, at least.

 

Tour Diary

Suggested listening while reading this blog: “Turn the Page” by Bob Seger or “On the Road Again” by Willie Nelson.

A book tour.  It’s one of those things every young, pimpled-face writer dreams about as a freshman in college.  Well, that and a good pimple cream.  And a girlfriend too, maybe.  But I digress!  Here’s a little tour diary.  It’s impossible to include all the amazing people I’ve met along the way.  If you don’t make a cameo, don’t take it personally!  I tried.

September 21

It’s official book release day!  I’m in Atlantic City for the first time in my life.  The most I know about it comes from the Bruce Springsteen song—so I fully expect to see the Chicken Man blow up (this actually comes up later; stay tuned!) and find myself taking an unsavory job in the mob.  Drove down the Garden State Parkway late last night and spotted around 75 deer.  Who knew Jersey was so much like Central PA?  And, that joke about Bon Jovi always on the radio in Jersey?  Must have heard at least eight songs by him in the car, two of which were tolerable (“Blaze of Glory” and “Runaway”).  Only event is the Moveable Feast Luncheon at the New Atlantic Independent Booksellers Association, which is basically speed dating with booksellers.  Seventeen other authors present as well—all of which are amazing.  So humbling to be among their company.  Immediately after, I drive back up to Newark and fly back to Virginia.  Didn’t even have a chance to drop a quarter in a slot machine.

Song for the day: In the Aeroplane Over the Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel.

September 24

Daytona Beach!  First time ever in Florida—I suspect this blog will show, among other things, how under-traveled I am.  On the way to the hotel, my cabbie tells me where I can watch the Penn State game tomorrow.  And he tells me—unsolicited—where I can find strip clubs (he uses another term I won’t repeat since this is a PG-rated site).  My first event in Florida is in the Late Night Reading room at the Southeast Independent Booksellers Association.  While I sit outside, picking a passage to read, a women sits near me and keeps staring at me.  Turns out she’s one of my former students from UNCW!  And she now runs a bookstore in Carolina Beach.  Never know who you’ll meet or what to expect.  I wish I could say that she decided to open the bookstore because of my passionate classroom diatribes about literature.  Later, I sit with Kelly Justice, Watt Key, and a few others.  The awkward technique of plane chatting comes up.  I mention that I never speak to my seat-mate though Watt encourages me to strike up a conversation.  (This too will come back up—see the pattern?)

Song for the day: Ghost Dance – Dame Satan.

September 26

So long Daytona.  Headed with Brock Clarke and his wife to Jacksonville to read at Bookmarks—a great indie store celebrating their 25^th anniversary.  On the way, we stop for lunch in St. Augustine.  Beautiful city—which is the oldest in America.  And a great Cuban sandwich.  Much better food than the night before—a Hot Pocket pizza bomb.  Brock and his wife are super nice people.  Happy to have spent a few hours with them.  Not to mention, in case you haven’t heard, Brock’s got a great new book out right now.

Song for the day: Burnin’ for You – Blue Oyster Cult.

September 30

Wake up before dawn and drive through heavy rain to make it to Virginia This Morning.  Short interview goes very well.  Unfortunately, I don’t receive any make-up and therefore look like a corpse next to the hosts.  First television interview of my life.

Later that night—still in driving rain—I head back to Richmond to read at Fountain Bookstore.  And two of my favorite people are there—Rebecca Schinsky (Booklady’s Blog) and Kelly Justice.  They were two of the first bookly people to contact me over the twitterverse.  Unfortunately, the rain deters some people from coming out, but the small crowd is engaged and supportive.  Afterward, my wife and I grab dinner at a great Italian place.  And then we drive home.  In more rain.

Song: Cast Your Ship Upon Rain by Aran Ruth.

October 2

Big day!  Start of Big Ten conference play.  Oh yeah, also reading in Chapel Hill at Flyleaf Books.  This time, the weather works the opposite way—after days of rain, it’s beautiful!  And, UNC football is on television.  Great bookstore that’s also pretty new.  Hey, anyone opening a business in these times deserves credit—and if it’s a bookstore, there should be a congressional resolution to honor them.  Sadly, that night I watch Penn State lose to Iowa.  Not even Papa John’s makes me feel better.

Song: Oh My Sweet Carolina by Ryan Adams.

October 3

Actually, Papa John’s has made me feel much worse.  Why, Papa John?  Why?  Just put a small thing of Pepto in the box of pizza.  We’ll thank you in the morning.

Head over to Fearrington Village for lunch with my amazing editor Chuck Adams and Kelly Bowen, my super publicist.  Afterward, I read at McIntyre’s.  Nice crowd, good questions.  And my friend Pookie stopped by with his lovely bride.  We grab coffee, then it’s back home.  Happily, I can pick up a classic country radio station in the car.  Nothing like some Waylon Jennings on a fall evening.

Song: Just to Satisfy You by Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson.

October 5

All this time, I’ve been doing lots of radio interviews all over the country, usually by phone.  But I get to stop by the NPR studios in Philadelphia for an hour-long chat with Marty Moss-Coane.  Her producer Denis welcomes me to the studio and couldn’t be nicer.  And Marty asks fantastic questions.  Then I hop in the truck and head onto the turnpike for Harrisburg.  What deal with the devil did the state of Pennsylvania make with Roy Rogers Restaurant?  It’s the only place to eat along the turnpike.  Come on.  Luckily, I meet two college friends in Harrisburg for dinner.  Great time catching up and eating wings.

Song: Farm in Pennsyltucky by Jeannie Seely.

October 6

Now, time to tackle the rest of Pennsylvania.  Off to Pittsburgh.  Easy drive takes me right into the city, which looks as beautiful as ever.  Never understood the hate for Pittsburgh—maybe people base it on how things were in the 80s?  Now, it’s a great little city that’s nicely reinvented itself.  I stop by the Post Gazette for a talk with Bob Hoover that’s broadcast on the paper’s website.  Then it’s off to the South Side.  I’m reading at Joseph-Beth and I stop in early to check out the space.  It’s a chain-store but has the feel of an indie.  I’m impressed.  At the reading, a friend from grad school and her boyfriend drive to see me read.  We grab coffee afterward and it’s very nice to catch up and talk shop.  Also finally meet Dory Adams, who wrote a fantastic review of my book on her blog.  And she’s from my hometown.  Dory, her husband, and another friend invite me to eat dinner at the Hofbräuhaus.  We talk for two hours about home, family, and the reaction to the book.  Dory’s support means the world to me because my mother and her parents are deeply upset over the book.  They feel as though they are portrayed poorly, which is shocking to me and everyone else who hears the story.  The people I’ve met—including Dory—felt that my mother and grandparents were the heroes of the book.  I wholeheartedly agree.

Song: (My Heart Is) Closed for the Season – Bettye Swan.*

*In honor of the Pittsburgh Pirates, who apparently didn’t have a season.

October 8

Detroit.  Here I am, in the motor city at the Great Lakes Independent Booksellers Association.  Meet Megan Fishmann from Algonquin for lunch.  Then watch an episode of Gangland before the reading.  Later, I find out that Megan also likes Gangland.  Who doesn’t like it?  And what a way to relax before a reading!  Packed room ready to hear the authors read—and it’s a receptive crowd as well.  Afterward, watch the Phillies in the hotel bar over pizza, then meet some great folks, including Peter Geye, who’s written a fine book called Safe from the Sea.  And while I haven’t read Wendy McClure’s next book, the title alone sparks interest: The Wilder Life: My Adventures in the Lost World of Little House on the Prairie.

Song: One Piece At a Time by Johnny Cash.

October 9

Nashville.  Here I am, in music city at the Southern Festival of the Book.  First time in Nashville and I’m ready!  Even though Penn State has horribly lost to Illinois—and I paid $10 just to get wifi on the plane so I could listen.  Attend a reception for the authors and meet up with a college friend who’s now getting an MFA in Memphis.  It’s a great time, great people, and Broadway is a crazy scene.

Song: I’m Easy by Keith Carradine.

October 10

Panel presentation in the senate chamber.  Feel like I’m testifying!  Great crowd.  Afterward, I sign some books.  And, outside the hotel, meet a former Nashville fire fighter and his wife.  They were at the panel talk and invite me to lunch.  We talked for an hour and a half about fire fighting, Nashville, writing, and life.  Really, one of the nicest and most unexpected moments from the tour.  He even offers to drive me to the airport!

So, I’m on the plane.  A young woman sits next to me.  She’s holding Sara Gruen’s Water for Elephants.  Since Chuck Adams edited that—and I’ve read Sara’s book—I think back to Watt Key’s advice to strike up a conversation.

“How do you like that book?” I ask.

The woman looks shocked.  Maybe I’ve broken some cardinal rule to flying?  She nods and says, “It’s good.  Hopefully I’ll finish it this flight.”

I smile.  “You know, I’m a writer.  My editor actually did that book too.”

“Huh,” she says.  Then she pulls out her Blackberry—modern speak for leave me alone.

Song: Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.

October 11

Back in the truck to drive to Matthews, NC for the Women’s National Booksellers Association Charlotte chapter.  It’s a dinner—and the first time they’ve had an event like this.  Very honored to be there.  Hop from table to table during the meal and talk with booksellers and readers about the book.  It’s a great crowd, even though on the first read, my book might seem geared toward males—three generations of men tied by fire.  But I’m very lucky to have had strong, loving, courageous women in my life.

Song: East Bound and Down by Jerry Reed.

October 13

At the Country Bookshop in Southern Pines, NC.  And the crowd includes some high school students.  Reminds me of my own high school days, how enamored I was with writers and books.  I can only hope that I seem painfully cool to these kids.  And near the end, a friend from Wilmington shows up.  He takes me to a fantastic restaurant and we catch up.  Southern Pines, by the way, holds true to its name—pine trees everywhere.  It’s a beautiful area with lots of shops downtown.  Maybe I can retire here.

Song: Lone Pine Hill by Justin Townes Earle.

October 14

Back to Charlotte for a signing at Park Road Books.  Charlotte is always a town I’ve driven through or flown into, but never actually visited.  Had a great time talking with the staff and customers.  The one amazing thing I’ve discovered is that since I’ve written a memoir, readers often share their own amazing stories.  And everyone has a unique, compelling tale to tell.  It’s always great to hear that they relate what I’ve written, that it’s made them think about their own families.  That night, while I pack, a show (not Gangland) airs and chronicles the Philadelphia mafia scene in the 70s and 80s.  And lo and behold, they talk about the bombing of Chicken Man in Philly!  I thought Bruce just made that up.  Nope.

Song: West Bound and Down by Jerry Reed.

October 15

Driving to Asheville at the height of autumn.  Well, there’s really no better place that I’ve been to in the fall.  Breathtaking views.  And my wife and the dog are headed down from Charlottesville.  A friend and her husband drive up from Alabama to see both the town and me.  We grab dinner, then turn in for the night.

Song: The End of the Summer by Dar Williams.

October 16

Malaprops.  If you’re a reader in the southeast—and perhaps the entire country—it’s hard not to know this name.  It’s a fantastic store that I’ve always visited when I was in town.  And visiting as an author is a special treat.  I read to another great crowd, talk about my book, and then answer some questions afterward.  One reader tells me this: “I think what you did took such courage and conviction.  It’s hard to look at your past.  I just want you to know what that means to me.”  She takes my hand and smiles.  “I’m not good with words, but I know in my heart what I want to say.”  But what she said was perfect.

Song: Blue Ridge Mountains by Fleet Foxes.

October 22

Practically reading in my backyard in Crozet, Virginia.  Okay, if Asheville is the best place to be in the fall, Central Virginia is a close second.  And Crozet is amazing.  I visit Over the Moon Bookstore—and a very full moon up the sky.  The crowd has a lot of friends who’ve heard this loads of times before, but I’m thankful they’ve shown up.  Over the Moon—the only bookstore in Albemarle County—just opened in June.  And what a store it is.  It smells of books and wood inside.  That should be an air-freshener fragrance!

Song: The Virginia by Neko Case.

Citizens Fire Academy

This past spring, I attended a six-week Citizens Fire Academy class every Thursday night in Charlottesville, Virginia.  My three other classmates came for varied reasons.  Teddy served on the county rescue squad in the 1970s after he returned from a tour in Vietnam.  Now a commercial builder, he seemed to enjoy reliving some of his glory days.  Another classmate, a woman named Jen, had just started a career in the medical field and wanted to learn about the emergency response system.  Jen brought along a friend, who never stated why she was there, though judging by her flirtations with a few of the firemen, I could certainly offer a guess.

My own motives were a bit more complicated.  I grew up in a small Central Pennsylvanian town where my father was the fire chief.  He died of cancer twenty years ago when I was nine years old, and the dismal absence that followed was comparable to what I felt when he was alive.

At all times of day, the red pager clipped to his belt would blast alarm codes, summoning him to fires or car accidents.  He spent whole weekends away at training exercises, weeknights leading community work details when the crew filled swimming pools or cleaned chimneys.

At the first Fire Academy session, Charlottesville’s fire chief Charles Werner said that he had also grown up around fire.  His father and grandfather were volunteers; his uncle was the fire chief.  At age twelve, he began riding along with his father to emergency scenes so that he could watch out the window.  The summer after graduating high school, he was hired as a professional fire fighter.  Thirty-five years of volunteer and career fire service later, Werner said that while technological advances have improved response time and strategy, fighting fire was the same as when he started: “put the wet stuff on the red stuff.”

Werner’s boyhood story felt familiar—my father was just as young when he first volunteered.  However, my father’s father was responsible for starting the red stuff.  My grandfather was a serial arsonist, lighting up his car, torching a work shed, igniting his garage.  He even set the family home on fire only to rebuild and then burn it down again.  That one sent him to state prison and, no doubt, drove my father toward the fire company to atone for his father’s sins.  I could grasp my father’s motives, but now as an adult, I wanted to better understand not just why my father left, but what types of people drew him away from my mother and me.

Throughout the weeks, we learned how a department earns accreditation and what that means for a community’s insurance rates.  The city fire marshal showed off his new accelerant dog Quaker who could root out arsons weeks after the fact.  A firefighter told us the five main steps to fighting fire: rescue, exposures, confine, extinguish, and overhaul.

One firefighter said that whenever she stays in a hotel, she keeps a mental tally of the number of doors she must pass through in case a fire starts in the middle of the night.

She shook her head, looking a bit embarrassed, and said, “You just never know.”

I remembered how my father would examine sprinkler systems in shopping malls or restaurants, how he set off the smoke detectors once a year for a family drill.  Yet, since I never truly saw him in action, I still wondered just what his role as a chief meant.

At one of the final classes, we had a chance to participate in a simulated technical rescue.  Before we headed outside, the fire captain told the class to choose an incident commander.  My other classmates, who had heard my story, all turned to me and nodded.

“Chiefs wear white helmets,” a fire captain told me, handing me one almost exactly like my father wore.

We walked out into the parking lot, awash in the orange glow dusk and vapor lights, where the city’s waiting ladder truck idled diesel fumes.  One of the firefighters was strapped to the end of the ladder.  The goal was to lift him off the ground and transport him about fifteen feet, and then gently lower him onto a wooden bench.

“Chief,” the captain said, taking me by both shoulders.  “You communicate with your crew.  You assess the scene.”

Slowly, the harnessed firefighter was lifted from the ground.  Teddy waved his arms up and down, left and right, directing the ladder operator.  Soon, the firefighter rested perfectly in the bench.

“Chief, is the scene clear?” the captain asked.

Teddy gave me a gung-ho double thumbs up.

“All clear,” I said.

The captain shook my hand and said, “Good job, chief.”

Afterward, I talked to a few firemen in the engine room, with its smell of old smoke and rubber tires.  Most of the firemen were on the younger side of forty, solidly built, and wore mustaches—exactly how I remembered my father.  Except these guys were professionals—comprising three separate shifts, working 24-hours straight.  Charlottesville, like many major cities in the United States, has a career department, meaning all members are paid.  My father, for all the times he left his factory job early and came home late to shower and slide into bed, was only a volunteer, never earning a dime.

“What are the volunteers like here?” I asked.

“There are around twenty-five,” one guy said.  “They’re reserves.  They man a truck one night a week, hang out.”

“I came up as a volunteer out in the county,” another guy said.  “I’d fight fire alongside them same as I would anybody here.  Taught me the ropes and they’re trained same as we are.  It’s just that we just get paid.”

Eventually, we talked about how television portrays first responders.  Chief Werner’s brother Dave—also a firefighter, of course—thought that everything on Rescue Me was true, except for the fire fighting.  In real life, you can’t see two inches in front of your face.  The 1970’s show Emergency was generally agreed to be the truest depiction of emergency services.  But don’t even get them started on Backdraft.

When Dave asked why I decided to take the class, I told him the truth.  A few guys raised their eyebrows and nodded.  One admitted that as a child he was a fire starter, and it was the intervention of the fire company that turned him toward the other side.

“A dad for a fire fighter and an arsonist for a grandfather,” Dave said.  He patted my shoulder and shook his head.  “I’m thinking you’re on the fence and we need to make sure you choose the right side.”

But there was no question where my allegiance fell.  For at least one night, I was the chief, but I will always be my father’s son.

My Life With A Dog

This past summer, my wife and I adopted a dog.

Both of us discussed adding another pet in our home for years, but had always come up with excuses—how would the cat react, we’re too busy to train a puppy, is our house even big enough?  We’d always wanted one of those monstrous and strong dogs that could pull an ox cart—preferably while loaded with an actual ox.  We’d investigated the Bernese Mountain Dog and the Great Pyrenees, sweet, loveable, huggable animals that would require a new annex to any home.  A pure bred of either breed would have required an off shore bank account to pay for not only the puppy but the truck loads of food required.  And, down the line, the therapy we’d need after the big dog’s relatively short life ended.

We’d grown up around pets and understood not just the love they give, but also the inevitable heartbreak.  So we knew how important it was to find the right dog for us.

In 1979, not long after my parents married, my father drove to a breeder near Harrisburg, Pennsylvania to buy a puppy, but what would really become their first child.  There was never any doubt about what type of dog he wanted.  When he turned sixteen, my father volunteered for the local fire company.  By the time he graduated high school, classmates wrote in his yearbook, “Good luck and stay safe.  (How many days has it been since a fire?)”  Naturally, he wanted a Dalmatian.

During the days of horse-drawn carriages, Dalmatians came to be associated with fire service in America.  The dogs interacted well with horses and often ran as the lead en route to a fire, clearing a path so fire fighters could arrive quickly.  Though my father drove his pick-up truck to fire scenes, he wanted to honor the breed’s history.

As a young couple, my parents couldn’t afford the pick of the litter.  Instead he saw a puppy considered defective by breed standards because of the large black patch on her head and ear.  On the drive out of Harrisburg, they passed the Three Mile Island nuclear plant, where a near melt-down had occurred just days before.  My father joked that the dog’s spots would glow in the dark.  He named her Patches.

Dalmatians can be a tricky breed.  They require a lot of exercise, are predisposed to deafness, and are sometimes difficult with children.  When my mother became pregnant with me, people worried the dog would maul a baby.  But the opposite happened—she started sitting next to my crib as though guarding me.  She never seemed like a pet and, as I grew up, I called her my sister.  Each day when I came home from school, she stood at the door, wagging her tail, waiting to see me.  My father held her on his lap, allowed her to sleep in bed, and even bathed her in tomato juice when a skunk once sprayed her.  One summer night, during a thunderstorm, Patches—who always quivered at the sound of thunder—ran down the cellar steps but caught a toenail in the carpet.  After the crash, we saw her at the bottom of the stairs with blood pooling from her foot.  We lived in rural Pennsylvania, long before the days of 24-hour emergency pet care, and my father called upon his emergency training.  He wrapped her paw in a cold compress, pressed tight, and waited.  Long after midnight, with a pile of bloody washcloths on the floor, we finally went to bed.  I have no doubt he saved Patches life that night.

Unfortunately, nothing could save his.  My father was diagnosed with cancer in 1988.  He endured chemo treatments.  He shed his hair, he puffed from steroids, and finally the disease reached remission.  The bone marrow transplant was supposed to extend his life by twenty-years, but the cancer returned in the summer of 1990.  A month later, he was dead.

My mother and I remained behind.  And so did Patches.  We’d always loved that dog, but knowing that my father had chosen her, we both understood that we had to take special care of her.  As she aged, she started to wobble from hip dysplasia.  Sometimes she didn’t make it to the door in time for bathroom trips.  During winter, we wrapped her head with a bandana to shield her ears from the bitter wind and swathed her in one of my father’s old flannel shirts to keep her warm.  She’d become an old lady, and my mother always said, she needed tender loving care.  Part of that care was realizing when her discomfort outweighed the happiness we felt to have her in our lives.  That was in 1996, and that had been the last dog I had.

That is, until this summer when my wife came home from a coffee shop one day and said, “How much do you want a dog?”

She’d met a young woman about to leave for med school.  Unfortunately, she couldn’t take her beagle with her.  Though she’d asked a few friends if they wanted to adopt him, nobody had given her a definite answer.  If she couldn’t find a home for him in a week’s time, she would leave him at the ASPCA.

“He’s really cute,” my wife said.  “And his name is Early.”

Early was at least a cute name.  But a beagle?  That wasn’t quite the beast of a dog I’d imagined.  We’d try him out for a night or two and see what happened.  Of course, once a dog comes into your home like that, it’s a foregone conclusion—he’s staying for good.

So now we have Early, the two-year old beagle.  He nearly knocks me down with love each time I walk in the door.  If my wife and I have had a bad day, he curls up between us on the couch and plops his head in our lap.  He knows immediately when he’s misbehaved, such as eating the cat’s food or chewing on a pen.  He’s nervous on car rides and stinks up the inside of my truck with pungent gas.  Can you say any of that about people—except for maybe the gas?

And to think, we’d delayed this decision for so long, lost in the excuses of our daily routine.  Let me tell you something—nothing you’re doing is as important as loving a fellow creature, and feeling his unconditional affection in return.

Each year for Christmas, I still give my mother a Dalmatian calendar.  She opens it up and smiles at the beautiful dogs.  Neither of us says a word, but we’re both thinking back to Patches.  My mother looks at the pictures a bit longer and then always says, “None are as pretty as my girl.  We lucked out with her.”

My parents and I did.  I’m happy my wife and I now have as well.