A Beginning

Tonight, the United States Postal Service brought me the results of my attempt to become a Licensed Battlefield Guide at Gettysburg National Military Park. It was a good try: for sixteen months naught but discourses on that singular event in American history crossed my desk. I went over the recommended reading list, I pored over flashcards and battle maps, I immersed myself in Steven Recker's Virtual Gettysburg. Three times this past year I have made the trek from Georgia to Pennsylvania to see the ground that our forebears fought - and died - for .

And after all that, it all came down to tonight's letter.

No, I didn't get it: in fact, I fell far short of the goal I'd set for myself. Granted, I didn't expect to be issued a pass to wear the hallowed blue blazer, but I did expect to come closer to the mark than I did.

Where did I go wrong? I honestly don't know. I have the option to review my answers against the score sheet, but that would require another expensive trip to Pennsylvania. I fully intend to call the park to see if I have other options. I'll let you know.

So where do I go from here? Should I desire, I can have another go at the test in 2010. Or I can lick my wounds and, like Lee on July 5, retreat from the scene of the defeat.

Prior to being elected to this nation's highest office (twice), Abraham Lincoln was defeated in seven different electoral contests, in addition to losing his job, his sweetheart, and at one point, his sanity. And yet he persevered through the years to attain his ultimate goal at last - and not a moment too soon.

If he can face the odds he did and come out on top...well then, who's to say I can't try too?
(We're just going to disregard that whole "assassination" thing for a moment here...)

My next go at the test is in two years. I'll be posting the list of what I've got to get under my belt by then in a short while. If you stumble upon this blog, feel free to add what you will.

On May 10, 1863, at 3:15 PM, Thomas Jonathan 'Stonewall" Jackson passed from this world to the next. Though his last hours were filled with myriad utterances and orders to men who were not there, the final moment of his life was revealed with simple stark clarity to be one of peace and beauty: as his eyes became focused and his breathing steadied, he calmly ordered "Let us cross over the river, and rest under the shade of the trees."

Those were his last words.

This is my blog.