We all live busy lives. I was a little too busy to write anything lately so instead you get a visual sneak peek into my last few days!
On Sunday I broke out my old Civil War Reenacting gear for a book fair. The dress was a real hit — it’s what gave me the courage to participate in two panel discussions on history and fiction! It also landed me gigs at possibly three different venues in the area in 2019! The main thing though was that it was really fun!
On Monday it was back to living my real life of flannels, boots and mud with my favorite lamb escaping yet again from our electric fencing. I seriously have no idea how she does it. I tried letting the other sheep out so she’d join the herd, but they all decided (now that we have a new neighbor) to escape onto the neighbor’s front lawn. I spent the next hour chasing Natasha (with Prince Andrei in tow) around the perimeter of the electric fence. I couldn’t stay mad at her because she knew what she was doing and it was funny. She’d let me get right up behind her before bouncing off in the playful ways lambs do.
Finally I caught her:
A Note: Little Natasha is safe and sound and, aside from her wounded pride, she was perfectly fine once I got her back with the other sheep. 🙂
So … readers and writers, what do you do in your spare time? Do you like dressing up? Let me know in the comments!
WARNING: This is not about gay marriage. It’s not about gender politics or more aptly put: gender war. This about history.
Then the LORD God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone; I will make him a helper suitable for him.” Genesis 2:18
For much of recorded history most people looked around and noticed that men and women looked and acted in different ways (with some overlap). They looked at animals. Rams and sheep, bucks and does, ducks and drakes. We don’t have to believe in the Biblical account of creation to understand that most people realized a duck and drake were of the same kind, but their purposes were complimentary and different.
Let’s march onward to the US Civil War. In THE VACANT CHAIR The Northern Soldier Leaves Home Reid Mitchell devotes a chapter to the need for femininity in the masculine world of war.
But women are soldiers now you cry. Yes and for a disturbing look at women who kill from thousands of miles away click HERE. Women are strong. They write songs about roaring and not needing men. Go women!!?
I’ve never seen our ducks declare war on our drakes (though occasionally they squabble). Same goes for our sheep and goats. Same goes for the Civil War soldier and the women folk back home. Reid even goes on to say that one of the reasons the southern soldier had it so hard is that he believed in his manly role as much as his northern brethren. Northern women remained safely out of the actual war’s reach. Northern men could at least rest easy on that. They could go fight a war and miss their wives and sweethearts and dream about being nurtured by them at war’s end in the same homes they left.
Not so for the southern men who had the added worry of their women and children directly in the war’s path. Towards the end of the war the Confederacy held back the troops mail for fear of large scale desertion–though not really desertion but an adherence to the manly virtue of protecting one’s family.
And what about womanly virtue? Modern culture decries anything that smacks of the Bible–maybe it’s why there is such a hatred for history (especially American) but as a college student being indoctrinated by men haters who blamed Jewish rabbis and Jesus freaks for everything I wish I would have opened up the good book myself and read PROVERBS 31 which describes what a virtuous woman looks like. It would have given me some balance:
10 Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.
11 The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil.
12 She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.
13 She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh willingly with her hands.
14 She is like the merchants’ ships; she bringeth her food from afar.
15 She riseth also while it is yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and a portion to her maidens.
16 She considereth a field, and buyeth it: with the fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard.
17 She girdeth her loins with strength, and strengtheneth her arms.
18 She perceiveth that her merchandise is good: her candle goeth not out by night.
19 She layeth her hands to the spindle, and her hands hold the distaff.
20 She stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy.
21 She is not afraid of the snow for her household: for all her household are clothed with scarlet.
22 She maketh herself coverings of tapestry; her clothing is silk and purple.
23 Her husband is known in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the land.
24 She maketh fine linen, and selleth it; and delivereth girdles unto the merchant.
25 Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.
26 She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness.
27 She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.
28 Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her.
29 Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.
30 Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.
31 Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates.
The soldier of the Civil War even if not a Christian (though most were) lived in a culture saturated by Judeo-Christian values. Sorry, that’s just the way it is.The basic notion of men and women serving complementary yet distinct roles seemed to serve humanity fairly well for thousands of years. Despite Louisa May Alcott’s fictional tomboys and the few hundred women who impersonated men to join the ranks of the Union Army most women played mother or lover to the soldiers. Whether as nurses or homemakers, activists or laundresses most women accepted their feminine side–many actually valued it!
And so did the men. They missed the nurturing, the companionship and the spirit of women. They did not wish for more men.Letters home were filled with talk of home and the women who made it a home. Of course there were some men happy to get away from women and some women relieved when such men left, but the overriding feeling as the war dragged on was one of deep missing, deep lonesomeness for the opposite sex. Other men just couldn’t cut it.
How does one make sense of this desire in a culture bent on gender fluidity?
When researching for my novels many of you know I “went to war” as a reenactor. My college indoctrination was wearing off as I studied history not through the eyes of embittered leftist college professors, but through the eyes of the men and women of the time writing about their lives in diaries and memoirs.
I still clung to the notion that I had to be the same as men so I convinced my father to buy me an Enfield rifle. We drove to Gettysburg to pick it up. The thing is beautiful, but I immediately realized with sinking heart that there was no way I was going to enjoy carrying it in a wool uniform.
I wrestled with womanhood. First of all I was hardly virtuous. Then came Antietam. A friend let me borrow a corset and hoop skirt. I figured as a researcher it would be interesting to see how the other half lived before getting fitted out to play one of the few hundred women who fought.
And then it happened like magic.
As I walked around owning my feminine side I suddenly understood the power of it. At first I assumed the feeling would go away, but it got stronger each time I slipped into the role. And here’s the equally weird thing: men treated me differently. Now to be fair we were all slipping into what we thought we knew about the 1860’s.
Weren’t people more polite back then? Yes and no. But the part that intrigued me and intrigues me still is that once we played at respecting gender roles we found that we respected the opposite gender more. We behaved better towards each other. (Okay better is relative–I get it, but I don’t care).
Maybe someone smarter than me can explain how playing a virtuous northern woman actually made me respect myself and men more.
Why did men stand a little taller as I walked by?The same men who chatted with me in jeans the day before as we set up our tents. The uniforms we wore as men and women of the 1860’s fit better than the unisex jeans and t-shirts we wore in our real lives. Some will say it’s just a game we played–but it was a game worth playing.
BTW, THE VACANT CHAIR by Reid Mitchell offers such valuable insight into the minds of the northern men who went off to war I think every angry man hater (and woman hater) should be forced to read it as penance. Can’t we just love one another?
Have I mentioned my brief foray into the world of living history nursing? As a book nerd I’m fascinated by gross descriptions of missing body parts and how people do without. I used to keep old prosthetics on the wall. But touching and interacting with real, live, sweaty people who are play-acting injury–well–that was a bit out of my comfort zone.
How could I wipe the sweat from the brow of a Wall Streeter-turned-Civil War re-enactor covered in fake blood without laughing when he pulled me close and called me darlin’? But then nurses have to laugh, don’t they? Men with their guts hanging out need reassurance just as much as a good bandage technique and don’t forget the enemata!
My kids got angry when a certain sad-eyed Zouave told me I was glowing (sweating) at Gettysburg. You’d be surprised at the many romantic moments that occurred at tent hospitals. Hey, if I was being eaten by maggots I’d go for it with the pretty nurses–what would I have to lose?
Louisa May Alcott wasn’t pretty but she was kind and sick and dying men can appreciate that as well (we all can). Let’s face it, pretty people can be a little uppity at times. Louisa in her Hospital Sketches relates the sad state of soldiers far from home and fighting bravely for their lives and country. Oh, don’t be so cynical. The men did actually believe they were fighting the good fight. And Louisa wasn’t just some stupid romantic about it–she volunteered as a nurse and the sketches come from her real-life experiences.