As promised on Saturday, we’ve got our first substantive update of real, honest-to-god content in the form of five What I’m Reading reviews:
These can also be accessed through the Reviews page, of course.
The Bibliography is no longer under construction. That tingling you’re feeling is almost certainly not excitement. You probably want to check to make sure your power cords are properly grounded.
This is not, in fact, the substantive update mentioned yesterday. That’s still to come.
The site’s been quiet for a few days because I’ve been down in Decatur, Illinois visiting with my family down there: My great-aunt and great-uncle and a clan of second cousins. They’re like immediate family to me and I love them dearly. We had a wonderful time, although I discovered that my bowling skills have sadly rusted over from disuse.
While I was there, the subject of heritage and lineage and genealogy came up. This led my great-aunt Jean to relate the following story of my great-grandfather (on my father’s mother’s side):
When America first joined the Great War in Europe – what we would later come to call World War I – my great-grandfather was just barely too old to be caught by the draft. But, as the war dragged on, the nation’s need for brave young men grew. So, inevitably, the draft age was raised and raised and raised again.
But somehow my great-grandfather always stayed just a little ahead of it. Or, rather, he stayed ahead of it for awhile, because his lead was shrinking: At first he was a few years beyond the maximum. Then only a year. Then a few months. A few days. And, in the end, the draft caught up with him.
So my great-grandfather boarded a train and left the Midwest, bound for New York City. And when he reached New York City he was put onto a ship, and the ship was sent out into the Atlantic. Soon he would be in the trenches in France, and then God alone knew what might happen to him.
But when that ship was halfway ‘cross the ocean, the Germans surrendered. Just like that the Great War was over. So that ship turned right back around and came back to New York Harbor. They got back just in time for the ticker-tape parades, and in one of those ironic twists of fate that you couldn’t put into a novel (because no one would believe it) they – and others like them – made up the majority of those who were feted as returning heroes.
Forever after, whenever he was asked about the Armistice which ended World War I, my great-grandfather would say: “Well, when the Kaiser heard I was comin’…”
…
Tomorrow, or possibly the next day, we’ll have a more substantive update (at last!).
I simply have to declare my inexplicable passion for The Arcade Fire. For the last two weeks I have been constantly listening to their single “Rebellion” over and over and over again. I don’t know why, but every time the song comes to an end I feel compelled to flip back over to WinAmp and hit “play” again. Every. Single. Time.
Props to Questionable Content for bringing this musical epiphany into my life.
On the 4th of July this year, I was frustrated in my attempt to attend the fireworks at the Stone Arch Bridge by the failure of my girlfriend’s alarm; the questionable quality of my car; and the first symptoms of a rather virulent flu. Stranded at home, I was nevertheless in a patriotic mood, so I grabbed my copy of 1776 and stuck it in the machine.
I really love that musical. I’ve loved it ever since I first listened to it in the 8th grade. I have since come to understand that the delegates of the Second Continental Congress did not, in fact, spontaneously break into song, but it still stands as a stirring testament to the strength, principles, and sheer intelligence of those extraordinary men who we have come to call the Founding Fathers. It also reminds us that the United States of America was not a nation whose fate was assured: Its existence and its character, as defined now in the twin pillars of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution, rested upon the thinnest reeds of chance, and were forced into being only through the determination and ability of truly remarkable men. In my opinion, it is this generation, and this generation alone, which can truly be described as the Greatest Generation. They not only gave birth to a nation, they possessed a singular vision which shone a beacon upon the world.
Shortly after discovering 1776 on my own, I was introduced by my U.S. History teacher to Decision in Philadelphia: The Constitutional Convention of 1776, a book by Christopher Collier and James Lincoln Collier. If I loved 1776, then I was enraptured with Decision in Philadelphia. This phenomenal volume takes up the Constitutional Convention of 1776 — the birthplace of our nation — and presents it with page-turning intensity.
It would be trite to say that it makes the material accessible, because that would understate the authors’ real ability to present the complex political issues of the Convention as a compelling drama without losing any of the depth and detail which make this book a true jewel. Without any pretense or conceit, they place you right onto the Convention floor and insinuate you into backroom bargains — allowing you to watch, first-hand, as the greatest assembly of political philosophers (in that or any age) create the greatest government the world has ever known.
In a very real sense, this book represents the birthplace of my political beliefs. Of course, in many ways, it did so at a remove: In reality, its the political philosophy of James Madison, Alexander Hamilton, James Wilson, Roger Sherman, and George Mason that captured my attention (and later led me to John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, among others). But the Colliers are so cogent and clear in their presentation that the book serves not only as a brilliant piece of history, but as a valuable political primer.
If you truly want to understand the American government – the manner of its conception; the theory of its function; the brilliant compromises which give it endurance — then I strongly encourage you to hunt down a copy of Decision in Philadelphia. You won’t regret it.
