Comfort Food

You’re expecting me to say Oreos or mashed potatoes.

Not that I don’t love them, but a day or so ago, when I wasn’t feeling my particular best, went to my trusty book shelf and took down The Killer Angels, Michael Shaara’s 1974 historical novel about the Battle of Gettysburg.

Why did I gravitate to a book on war?

The writing, so beautiful, its tears wiped away my own.

For those of you unfamiliar, the saga is seen through the eyes of those who were there, the bravest of the brave.

Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain…Union Brigadier General, with a poignant longing, thinking of his wife back home in Maine…

‘He dreamed of her in the night, dreamed of his wife in a scarlet robe, turning witchlike to love him. Now when he closed his eyes she was suddenly there, a hot candy presence. Away from her, you loved her more. The only need was her; she the only vacancy in the steamy morning. He remembered her letter, the misspelled words. “I lie here dreamly.” Even the misspelling is lovely.’

Why am I so moved?

It reminds me to search for what’s tender, no matter what goes on around me….

‘Almost impossible to keep the eyes open. Close them, and he thought of her, and of his two children playing at her feet, like cubs, she looking at him smiling, calmly, pouting, waiting.’

Sigh

The American Civil War, some say should never have been fought, but it was, since standing up for what’s right, gifted from the Founders, is our legacy.

And the saddest part…both sides felt they were, for good reason.

I don’t see that in our country presently.

Instead I see, unadulterated hatred without just cause.

We’ve been enduring quite a lot these past months, knowing there’s more to come.

After watching the first debate between our president and his noble rival, I’m left with a heavy heart…

Of the people by the people for the people, nowhere to be seen.

Where is the unadulterated humanity to replace that hatred, speaking up to a Commander-in-Chief even his staff is fearful of, now ill with the same sickness he shrugged, as nothing.

Confederate General, James Longstreet…Robert E. Lee’s second in command, knowing his men will all be slaughtered following Lee’s orders commonly known as, Pickett’s Charge.

‘He sat with his back against a tree, put his head in his hands. There is one thing you can do. You can resign now. You can refuse to lead it. But I cannot even do that. Cannot leave the man alone, not at his best…Cannot leave because I disagree…but they will mostly all die. We will lose here….God help me.’

I hear history repeating itself, as we approach this dreaded election.

‘The light rain went on falling on the hills above Gettysburg, but it was only the overture of the great storm to come. Out of the black night, it came at last, cold and wild flooded with lightening. It rained all that night….

The next day was Saturday, the Fourth of July.’    

SB