Summer Duty Station

I have been involved in Civil War re-enacting since 1994 and giving presentations and talks since 2005. My unit hosts an annual living history at Andersonville National Historic Site in March and one in September at Sweetwater Creek State Park. In this role, I have been extensively involved in the planning and organization of these events. In addition, I am in the process of pursuing an Associates Degree in History.

All my work on these events, and participation in, has been on a volunteer status. However, all the hard work and dedication paid off in quite an unexpected manner. I was offered, and have accepted a seasonal position as a living history interpreter at Denali National Park in Alaska. It is a foot in the door in the career direction in which I want to go and will look awesome on a resume !

Bears and wolves and moose, oh my !
:-)

Springtime in Georgia

For 45 years, I have been either immune to or ignored by the yearly pollen assaults which many I have known through the years has suffered from. Alas, my luck ran out. I have spent the better part of the last two weeks learning the true meaning of spring allergies. The last week has been the worst, with practically sleepless nights, extremely sore throat and congestion in the throat which I could not cough up. My nose itself contributed to it all, but the coughing wreaked havoc. My throat has been raw and coughing and my head, chest, and abdomen muscles are sore. Yeah, I know, there are probably many of you out there knowing full well what all this feels like. However, it is a first for me.

I pray the allergy medicine and saline continues to work. Sorry to make this one short but have to track down a new box of tissues. ARGH !

Progress - or is it ?

Today's world is so chaotic and hectic. Employers push deadlines and create high stress environments they expect you to thrive in. The electronic age is a driving force with its ever changing technology and constant introduction of gadgets to awe the consumers.

Do not misunderstand me. I am a casualty, if you were, of data dependency. I sit and type this on my laptop as I text someone on my cell phone. I take college classes online, do historical research on the internet, keep communication open via email with my re-enacting unit, update webpages, spend time on marketing and advertising for my writing and my wife’s photography, use Facebook for re-enacting contacts and also keep in touch with family and close friends. All of this is done from either one of our computers and is part of the magic we call progress.

On Dictionary.com, progress is defined as:

the development of an individual or society in a direction considered more beneficial than and superior to the previous level.

In some cases I would have to agree, but taken as a whole, progress to me has destroyed the American way of life because we never adapted it to coincide with our modern era mentalities. I have many times said that I believe we could survive just fine as a society without most of the newfangled things this “development” has given us. Medical advancements in some areas have been beneficial especially with regard to knowledge and diagnosis of. Of course, I also know this reflects on other advancements which allowed these to happen. However, I know that my wife and youngest daughter are alive today due to medical advances. Fifty years ago or more, they both would have died.

Taking that into consideration, there are times we would like to have that primitive cabin way out in the wilderness for us to escape to. It would be a place with no modern worries, phone calls, urgent business conference calls, traffic delays, car horns, sirens around the clock, or stress filled workdays. Ideally, the cabin would have its own garden, the forest full of wild game, and the streams filled with fish.

This would indeed be wonderful and as much as it pulls at our soul, we could not just disappear to a place like this. We have too much family and friends, and yes responsibility, to do this beyond a long weekend. Though having a place like this is indeed a dream for us, we know in this day and time, it would have to be “wired-in”. Of course, who is to say we can’t hit that main power switch from time to time and enjoy quiet nights by lantern and days of working the earth.

Close to Home

We live in the foothills of the Appalachians in northwest Georgia. By foothills, I mean the real beginnings of the mountains before they rise into the more well-known peaks toward the state line. Even at that, there are sizable ridges and low mountains in the area. The hustle and bustle of life often causes us to forget how close they are.

Today, my wife, daughter and I, along with our two dogs, spent the better half of the afternoon meandering along trails located less than 5 miles from our house. We chose a 2-mile loop which is part of the greater trail network of the area. Just minutes away from the truck, it was very easy to forget we were so close to town and the major thoroughfare of I-75. According to the scenery around us, we could easily have been miles from civilization and deep in the wilderness.

I have always found it peaceful to be walking along a trail, crisscrossing along the rising ridges through cut-backs and gradual rises in elevation. The breeze rustles the leaves on the forest floor and causes those still attached to their branches to dance in time with the music on the air. A vulture cruising low over the treetops was the only wildlife we saw during the hike, but traces and signs of others were apparent to the diligent observer. Freshly turned earth was seen around the opening of holes leading underground, downed trees had been freshly carved into in search of grubs or other insects, fresh marks on the barks of trees from woodpeckers and bark rubbed smooth by repeated use as a “shoulder scrubber”. The scent of a skunk even briefly assaulted our senses.

There are so many things going on in the forest whether you see it actively happening or not. Besides animals and birds, the plants themselves are waking from their winter slumber and sprouting from the earth or budding in preparation for their grand reveal. Mosses are beginning to bloom and pipsissewa is more abundant. The forest floor slowly changes from its bleak winter grays to the vibrant greens of spring and summer, dotted with splashes of color as this plant or that displays its yearly canvas.

There is an overlook which is a popular resting spot. In fact, many people were there today enjoying the views and the sunshine. It is a rocky outcrop which gives a wonderful vista to the west and south of the recreation area. A nearby reservoir sparkled in the afternoon sun and a river snaked into the distance. Modern intrusions are clearly visible, but do not necessarily detract from the view. It is quite beautiful and we spent quite some time there taking pictures.

Though it did make us crave a trip up into the North Georgia Mountains or the Smokies, it was a great reminder of what we have right in our backyards. That is the essence of my intent with Under the Smoke. Get outside and enjoy it, whether it be a state or national park or community recreation area. You never know what jewel you might find in your own neighborhood.

Historical Alteration

Historical fiction is a brand new world, especially in regards to a time period I previously knew little about - and still far beyond what I would call knowledgeable. I have some good friends assisting with the accuracy of what I am writing and supplementing that with a great amount of research on my own.

I wrote a chapter which will appear toward the end of Shadow Catchers in which it is revealed one of the characters was a member of a certain Christian denomination. I researched the details of specific aspects of this denomination, including liturgy used in worship services. I thought I had picked one which would have been prevalent in the colonies at the time of my story. WRONG !

After more research on the subject, I discovered this denomination barely had representatives in the colonies and due to its loyalty to the crown, it recalled all ministers and missionaries to England at the beginning of the Revolution. SO, time to select a different denomination.

Such is the curse of a historian writing a historical fiction. Though the story itself is fictional, it is set during a specific time in American history. Therefore, I insist that I get all the factual details surrounding my characters correct.

This is bad for one small detail. It slows my writing down considerably and creates more editing for myself as I discover things which need to be tweaked. However, in the long run, those who read it will appreciate this accuracy and learn something from it. In addition, those who already know about the period will appreciate the time put into research to make it historically accurate.