“The Colored Soldiers”—The Poem You Never Knew Existed

I’m a poetry guy. When I expect to have some free time, I tend to carry a small book of poems somewhere on my person. I also have eclectic tastes, so the subject and the substance of my little pocket anthologies changes. This summer, while at home from Gettysburg National Military Park, I pulled a book off the shelf—War Poems, from the Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets series. I found plenty of what you might expect to find in such a book—Lord Tennyson, Wilfred Owen, Randall Jarrell. The subjects were classic—the “wild charge” of the Light Brigade, the “froth-corrupted lungs” of gassed men on the Western Front, the callous “hose” that washes out the wet scraps of the tragic turret gunner. Most of the poems I had already read before, so I was doubly surprised to find—in an anthology of war poems spread across the full breadth of both the Western and Eastern traditions of war verse—Paul Laurence Dunbar’s “The Colored Soldiers,” published posthumously in 1913 [excerpt]

The Disquieted Heart and the Lighted Path: LeVar Burton’s Dedication Day Speech

This Saturday past brought with it an electric sort of chill, the kind fueled by a driving breeze that lifts your jacket, steals past your socks and up your legs, worms its way through gaps in scarves and gloves, and leaves you feeling naked and afraid and alive in ways that no one else can see. The kind of wind that whisks away complicity and surety, leaving you with nothing but a burning compulsion to do something that will reignite your humanity, your belief in goodness, your claim to a kind life. For those who attended, the Dedication Day ceremony in the National Cemetery trembled with the same terrible power. This year, there was something dreadfully eerie about coming together to honor men slain in the struggle to prove that a nation “conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal” could endure terrible division and betrayal between its countrymen. The speechmaking, no matter its tenor, could not escape the gravity of the question on everyone’s mind: what does the future hold for America, and how can we make sure it won’t undo the already unfinished work for which our forefathers died? [excerpt

Dusting Off the Old Heroes of the Republic: The Newest Civil Rights Movement in Washington, D.C.

When I decided to attend the Women’s March on Washington this past January, I tried desperately to keep the Civil War out of my mind. I didn’t want to court disaster. Whatever their politics, anyone who knows anything about the Civil War can hear the familiar wails of a nation groaning under the weight of paralyzing political factionalism, deep sectional divides, and a potential constitutional crisis—in the works long before the Drumpf presidency—surrounding the proper limit and application of executive power in our democracy, amongst other threats. But I just couldn’t allow myself to envision the worst. It made me physically sick to have to wonder, honestly, whether my home was on the verge of throwing away the sacrifices of millions of selfless patriots over the years simply because we could no longer see our neighbors, our family members, as human. Because we had so lost faith in the “unfinished work” that we would surrender liberty for safety, virtue for ambition, and love for power. That we would think ourselves so vulnerable, so small, that we would betray our friends and forsake the world. That we would stop being leaders because the job was no longer easy

Striking the Balance: Bringing Peace to the Battlefield of Preservation

Most Gettysburg residents took note this past winter when the Appalachian Brewing Company’s branch restaurant near the Lutheran Seminary closed. The Civil War Trust bought the land for its historical value; the structure and an adjacent hotel surround the Mary Thompson House, General Lee’s Headquarters during the battle. From the moment of purchase, the plan had been to demolish the buildings, sow grass, and transfer the four-acre lot to the National Park Service as a prized addition to the park. Most onlookers probably think that the tale is told as soon as the land is bought, cleared, and promised to the park. However, that thinking only pans out in a vacuum. In reality, the results of this purchase—as with any large purchase of land in a community—cannot be foreseen. Too many different actors are involved in and affected by something as simple as the demolition of a couple of businesses and the placing of a conservation easement on a property. And for those who stand to be affected by this purchase, controversy is pervasive and understandable [excerpt]

Making a Statement: The Alabama Memorial at Gettysburg

This post is part of a series featuring behind-the-scenes dispatches from our Pohanka Interns working on the front lines of history this summer as interpreters, archivists, and preservationists. See here for the introduction to the series. Every generation has plenty to remember about its time spent shaping the human story. But despite this, some generations are better at writing their stories than others. Or perhaps some generations leave more unfinished work for their descendants to sift through. Either way, the legacy of the Civil War still lays heavy on our shoulders. Here at Gettysburg, in particular, the memory of the nation coalesces around a few days in a July long gone. The remembrance began the day after, with letters home, official reports, and raw thoughts scrawled across diary pages. But the years kept coming. New people and new events shaped the nation, while old people and past events faded, their specifics murky, and their significance uncertain. New generations knew the war meant something, but what? That is the question that every generation since has sought to answer in the style and sense of its time. The further time crept from the trial of the Civil War, the more new people with new interests and new agendas could proclaim their answers on old fields with new monuments and new speeches [excerpt]

Some Small Tribute: How Modern Americans Find Meaning in the National Cemetery

metery By Matt LaRoche ’17 In anticipation of Remembrance Day and Dedication Day this week, we have asked our Fellows why and how they commemorate the Civil War. Read Megan’s post below, then check back later in the week for more posts on commemoration and remembrance. In my last post, I appealed to the public to make good on the tragedies of Gettysburg in the same broad vein as President Clinton’s appeal at the 20th anniversary of the genocide at Srebrenica—to make the tragedy a “sacred trust” towards a better future. Needless to say, the material of the last piece stuck with me powerfully. In my musings I realized that I had, in my own experiences, stood witness to some small but remarkable efforts by visitors at Gettysburg to take something constructive and enduring from this tragedy

Seeing the Sorrow Anew: Recapturing the Reality of Suffering Through Srebrenica

Those who know death know mourning. Those who know mourning know the meaning of empty spaces that we all wish had stayed filled. But do we, or even can we, as the few members of this society who habitually reflect upon the tragedies and triumphs of the past, fully understand the immensity of the suffering we dwell upon while wandering our battlefields? [excerpt

From Crusaders to Flunkies: American Newspaper Coverage of Black First World War Soldiers from 1915 and 1930.

This article concerns itself with the U.S. newspaper coverage given to black soldiers (primarily African-American) in the lead up to the U.S. entry into the First World War, through the war, and into the 1930\u27s. In so doing, it chronicles the divisions that appeared within the black community in America as black Americans debated whether or not to serve a country that did not respect their liberties at home, the portrayal of black soldiers in U.S. newspapers, and the post-war betrayal that saw the rise of a popular silence on the rights of black veterans, and a forced return to the Jim Crowe status quo of black life before WW1

Point/Counterpoint: The Gettysburg Battlefield Marathon

Jeff: On November 6, the small town of Gettysburg will be swarmed by runners during the first ever Gettysburg Battlefield Marathon. The event has provoked heated discussion from many in the Civil War community, bringing up many questions regarding the use of our most hallowed grounds for recreational use. In this post, Matt and I will engage in a back and forth conversation about the concerns and advantages of the race. I’d like to begin by noting that the views that we each express in this piece may not necessarily be our own and that we may merely be bringing them up to contribute to the conversation surrounding the marathon. [excerpt

Low strength is related to diminished ground reaction forces and walking performance in older women

The purpose of this study was to determine how lower-limb strength in older women affected gait speed, supportive forces, spatial, and temporal aspects of walking gait. Twenty-four women between 65 – 80 yr performed maximal voluntary isometric contractions for the knee extensors (KE), knee flexors (KF), ankle plantarflexors (PF) and ankle dorsiflexors (DF) and were separated into low strength and normal strength groups using a KE torque threshold of 1.5 Nm kg−1 . They walked at both a standard speed of 0.8 m s−1 and at a self-selected maximal speed on an instrumented treadmill that recorded vertical ground reaction forces (vGRF) and spatiotemporal gait measures. Older women with low strength had 30% lower KE maximal torque, 36% lower PF maximal torque, 34% lower KE rate of torque development (RTD) and 30% lower KF RTD. Low strength women demonstrated slower maximal walking speeds (1.26 ± 0.20 vs. 1.56 ± 0.20 m s−1 ), lower vGRF during weight acceptance (1.15 ± 0.10 vs. 1.27 ± 0.13 BW), lower weight acceptance rates (11.3 ± 0.5 vs. 17.0 ± 5.5 BW s−1 ), slower stride rates, shorter stride lengths, and longer footground and double-limb support times (all P \u3c 0.05). Maximal gait speed was strongly correlated to peak vGRF and rate (r = 0.60 – 0.85, P \u3c 0.01) and moderately related to lower-limb strength (r = 0.42 – 0.60, P \u3c 0.05). In older women with low strength, diminished peak vGRFs were associated with slower walking speeds putting them at risk for mobility limitation, disability, poor health, and loss of independence