The Canadas
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Fall 1999 News Updated August 11, 2002 |
Christmas at HomeAlthough we have enjoyed the many holidays we have spent with our families in Indiana, it is also nice to spend the Christmas season in our own home. We did that for Essie’s second Christmas. Despite the possible confusion that might have resulted, Santa Claus managed to track her down and left her an assortment of goodies to enjoy on Christmas morning. We did travel a bit earlier in
the season, taking a trip to Atlanta for a conference and stopping in
Cowpens, South Carolina, on the way back. Later in November, I took a train back to Indiana to
attend my grandfather’s funeral, leaving Lisa and Essie in North Carolina. |
Atlanta, Georgia
November
4-6, 1999: The annual South Atlantic Modern Language Association conference
provided the impetus for our first trip to Atlanta together. While I spent much
of my time there collecting teaching ideas and just expanding my knowledge of
American literature and composition, we also squeezed in a fair amount of
sightseeing. While Lisa did some shopping for her new catering business, for
example, I took Essie for a walk in downtown Atlanta. The highlights—at least,
according to Essie—were the fountains at Centennial Park and outside the
Underground. On the following day, I took a jog down to the Georgia State
Capitol, which as a gold-leaf dome and several statues, including a
particularly impressive one of Jimmy Carter. Later in the day, we stopped at
Stone Mountain—surely one of the strangest geological features I have seen.
Only when got close enough to see the carvings of Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson,
and Jefferson Davis—and stood in the cool shade created by the huge rock—did I
fully appreciate its immensity.
In addition to visiting new places, we saw several colleagues from Chapel Hill: Aaron Butler, Connie Eble, Joe Flora, Collin Messer, Doug Mitchell, Richard Rust, and Chris Smith.
Cowpens, South Carolina
November
7, 1999: Driving home from Atlanta, where I had attended the annual
conference of the South Atlantic Modern Language Association, we treated
outselves to a stop at Cowpens National Historic Battleground. Once the scene
of a battle that became a turning point of the American Revolution, this park
is now a beautiful expanse of scattered trees and meadow. We traced the route
of the Continental Army and local militia, who combined in a fascinating way
under General David Morgan to defeat the British and frustrate their maneuvers
in the South. We stopped there on a glorious day. Temperatures were in the 70s,
and the colorful autumn leaves provided a gorgeous backdrop for our many
pictures of Essie.
Washington, D.C.
November
15-16, 1999: Mention to a friend or colleague that you are taking a train
from North Carolina to Indiana, and you almost certainly will elicit some
confusion, even amusement. Bring up the topic of train travel on the train
itself, and the reaction is much different. Chatting over a meal in the dining
car or taking in scenery together from the sightseer lounge, we are strangers
of like minds. We talk about the leisurely pace, the scenery, and, of course,
plane crashes. Yes, it took more than 26 hours for me to travel from Hamlet,
North Carolina, to Indianapolis, Indiana, for my grandfather's funeral and an
additional 27 hours to get home, but I finished one book, read all of another,
wrote this travel journal, saw some gorgeous scenery, had my first experience
in a private sleeping car, and thoroughly enjoyed the fruits of a layover in
Washington, D.C. Anyone who has taken a train any distance knows the scenery is
often mundane--lines of trees, for example, or neighborhoods--or even ugly, as
in the case of some industrial areas. Patience pays off, however. Even in late
fall, when most of the leaves have already fallen, I enjoyed some striking
views of the Ohio River valley and green, rolling farms tucked in the foothills
of the Appalachians. The highlight, however, was the hour-long stretch of the
track through the New River Gorge in West Virginia, where I saw two wide sets
of falls, rapids, the unbelievably tall New River Gorge Bridge, and enormous
boulders, one of them the size of a house.
I
can't imagine a better place for a layover than Washington, D.C. Because of a
variety of mishaps--including the late arrival of the preceding train in
Chicago and the resulting poor synchronization with freight trains traveling
the same tracks--I arrived a whopping four hours late. After crashing at the
home of college buddy Pete Amstutz in Arlington, Virginia, I got up the next
morning and took a miniature tour of D.C., which I already have visited several
times since moving to the East Coast. At the National Portrait Gallery, I saw a
fascinating exhibit called "Picturing Ernest Hemingway," which
captured both Hemingway's dramatic life and his celebrity status in America. I
enjoyed seeing photographs of young Ernest and his lover Agnes, especially
after having seen In Love and War, the movie based on their romance. I
also learned that Hemingway took part in five or six amateur bullfight
free-for-alls and saw a photograph of him in the midst of one. Other highlights
were portraits of Hemingway by a friend, a spread on his African safari in Life
magazine, and a high school essay on which Hemingway earned a D because of his
poor handwriting. After lunch with Pete, I also visited the Washington
Monument, which is under renovation, and the National Gallery of Art, where I
admired wood sculptures by the medieval sculptor Tilman Riemenschneider and a
giant relief of Robert Gould Shaw and his Massachusetts 54th Regiment by
American sculptor Augustus Saint-Gaudens.
Esprit's Second Christmas
It
wasn't exactly deja vu, but it felt a little like it. I was putting together a
toy or setting out presents, I think, when I realized that I was doing what our
parents used to do. Essie has been with us for almost two years now, but at
that moment I became a dad. There have been times when I could not quite fathom
that I was a parent, and there will be others, but there also will be more
epiphanies, I suspect, more moments when I suddenly realize the momentous and
glorious change that has come over my life. Indeed, I know now that parents
grow along with their children. Just as our sons and daughters do not instantly
become men and women when they turn 18, we do not turn into mothers and fathers
when our children are born. Instead, all of us gradually and continually
become.
This Christmas season was full of special moments like that one. Many nights, Lisa and I drove down Main Street in Laurinburg and showed Essie the Christmas lights: glittering white silhouettes of reindeer and snowflakes and Christmas trees. With all the amazement and excitement of a child to whom all such things are new and fabulous, she oohed and ahhed and pointed. During the day, when I was off from school and Lisa was busy with her new catering business, I got to spend some wonderful moments and even whole afternoons with Essie. Twice we went to Fayetteville, where we had lunch together, snacked on cookies and milk, and rode a little train through a Christmas wonderland filled with snow, carolers, and toy soldiers. We also spent some time in stores, of course--so much, in fact, that Essie added a new word to her vocabulary: "shopping." Throughout all this activity, she also became aware of a new person, someone who apparently was enjoying great fame all of the sudden. Pictures and statues of him were everywhere: on a store window, on the mantle over the fireplace, on television. One was even dancing to the tune of "Jingle Bell Rock" on a table in a department store. After a while, Es developed an eagle eye for this international celebrity, and she called out his name when saw him: "Tanta Caw, Tanta Caw." As sometimes happens when we meet our heroes in person, however, she became rather anxious when it came time to sit on Santa's lap. She cried at first, but with Daddy's help eventually calmed down and let one of Santa's helpers take a picture.
Although she was too upset to share any of her Christmas wishes with Santa, he managed to deliver when the big day arrived. I don't pretend to understand the ways of this magical man, but I know that Grandma and Grandpa Canada came to visit us for Thanksgiving, and I suspect that they put a bug in his ear because he hit the bull's eye with his gifts, especially the Fisher-Price house. Walking Elmo was a big hit, too, as were the fabric Nativity set and toy Walkman that Essie's godparents, Chris and Carolyn Henry, sent her. Christmas was not all fun and games, however. Santa also brought a laundry set, and before long Essie was busy washing and ironing the new socks that Mommy and Daddy found under the tree. Thanks to a shopping basket that her Grandma and Grandpa Henry sent, she also is better equipped to join Daddy on future visits to the grocery and department stores.
Along with all of this joy came one sad moment: the departure of the Christmas tree. Lisa and I had no idea that Essie had developed such an attachment to it, but she became hysterical when Lisa tried to take it out. We reached a compromise, however, and found a place in the yard where Tree can live and where we can visit it from time to time.
New Year's Eve
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December 31, 1999: To the Romans, who gave us the names of our months, "January" apparently seemed like a good name for the first month of the year. They took the name from their god Janus, who was depicted with two faces looking in opposite directions. Today, however, the name would better suit December. By the time January arrives, we Americans--famous for looking ahead to the West, the air, space, and the future--have already done with looking backward. In December, though, you can still catch us looking both directions. We're buying our new calendars and making our New Year's resolutions, but we also are counting down the year's top songs and singing "Auld Lang Syne." Like Janus, we are still glancing back even as we look eagerly ahead. So much the American am I that I usually dispense with the backward glance and focus on the year to come. Still, give me a year like 1999, and even I feel a bit like Janus. Indeed, to complicate things even further, I find myself looking back at an earlier self looking forward. I remember thinking, back when I was a kid, about the year 2000. I calculated that I would be 33 and wondered what things would be like. Now, somewhat eerily, that year is just about here. What do I have to say to my previous self, the boy looking forward? Life is great, kid. I somehow managed to locate the perfect woman for me, and we have a daughter who has opened up new doors to joy for us. We live in a comfortable home in a beautiful part of the country, and I have a career that both stimulates me and gives me plenty of time to relax. Enjoy your years in high school and college, kid, revel in those first years of marriage and career, and know that it only gets better. The coming of the biggest date change in a thousand years also has me looking forward to myself looking back. What were things like back in 1999? Of course, the only things that change overnight are dates, but eventually historians and even I, as a literature professor, will use dates as convenient markers of historical epochs, and we will try to describe the "world of the 20th century," maybe even "life in the second millenium." To the sea of reflections, commentaries, and top-ten lists, I contribute the following brief remarks, addressed to the self and society that will arrive tomorrow: We are a flawed people who want to be better. As individuals, we make resolutions, pledging to be healthier, more punctual, more organized. As societies, we form associations, organizations, and task forces. We raise money and give it away to relief agencies and medical researchers. We elect leaders and pass laws. We have done our part. Now it's your turn. |
The Canadas' Choices for Person of the MilleniumMark John Locke (1635-1704) (with honorable mentions to Sir Isaac Newton, William Shakespeare, and the child psychologist who invented timeouts) Lisa Queen Elizabeth I (1533-1603)
Essie Santa Claus (?-present) |