It seems inconceivable today that Nashville’s Union Station Hotel was once under threat of being lost.
This week marks the 150th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg, which took place July 1-3, 1863. My Twitter stream has been full of articles and photos from the commemorative events, which has me full of nostalgia -- for as odd as it seems to say, the battle that was pivotal to the Civil War is actually also a fairly significant milestone in my own life.
Here's the story:
When I was a junior in high school, a group of students from my AP American History class were being picked to attend a week-long summer program at Gettysburg College called the Civil War Institute. I was familiar with it through a teacher who was a family friend, and -- as I was already a fully formed history nerd by the age of 17 -- I wanted one of those scholarships. There was, however, no application process and no information on when or how kids were being chosen, so I had no idea how to make it happen.
And then out of the blue one day, my teacher announced the four students who had been selected to go. Four students, none of whom was me. Such a disappointment!
I don't know why I wanted to go so badly; I was interested in the Civil War, but not all that fascinated by it (yet). And while I was friendly with my classmates who'd been chosen to go, I wasn't especially close with any of them. Looking at it in hindsight, I can't recall any reason it seemed like a can't-miss opportunity, but nevertheless, I went to the teacher after class to ask her why she hadn't picked me. I can't remember exactly what happened next, beyond a vague recollection that someone dropped out, but my initiative paid off -- I was picked as the replacement and would be heading to Gettysburg in July.
Our topic that year was the Battle of Gettysburg, which was then celebrating its 125th anniversary. I spent a week listening to lectures from mind-bogglingly knowledgable scholars, touring the battlefield with a level of detail that had never occurred to me, and hanging out with new friends -- both other high school students and the few adults who didn't find a pack of teenagers as irritating as we likely were. I learned a ton, and had such a good time that I attended the Institute at least a dozen more times over the next 15 years.
It doesn't sound like a life-changing experience, I'll grant you. Maybe more fun than your average conference, but surely not more than that.
Fast-forward almost 10 years, to late 1997. I was planning my move from Albany to DC, but was struggling with job hunting. I was talking on the phone one night with my friend Kevin -- whom I had met at my second Civil War Institute -- about the trouble I was having finding good prospects and he suggested I apply where he was working at the time, the Holocaust Museum. And so I did.
I got the job.
About a year later, I was feeling like it was time to move on, and Kevin once again had the answer: his wife Donna (maybe fiancée then?) was working at the National Trust for Historic Preservation -- where I had wanted to work ever seen seeing then-President Dick Moe speak at (you guessed it!) the Civil War Institute -- and they had some openings. If I applied, she could let HR know I was a good candidate.
Again, I got the job.
And, 14-plus years later, there I remain, because I've found career path that lets me talk about my passion for old places (and for finding new uses for them) on the Internet all day long. How great is that?
And so, the 150th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg also marks the 25th anniversary of when I unknowingly put myself on my path to adulthood. Crazy, eh?
When I got back from Alaska last month, I had grand plans to have my photos - all 1,300 of them - organized within a week. Unsurprisingly, it seems like that goal was a bit overzealous, since that would have had me finished... uh... two weeks ago, and to be honest, I've hardly started. My first stab at getting things organized is this little slideshow of some of the amazingly beautiful flowers I saw on the trip. (I really like taking close-ups of flowers. I was perpetually falling behind the group, trying to get a great shot. Fortunately, I was one of the faster walkers in the group, so I always caught up quickly.)
Interesting bit of trivia I learned: flowers tend to grow amazingly well, despite the fact that summer is short and fairly cool. Why? Because of the midnight sun. Apparently, 24 straight hours of daylight makes for excellent growing.
It's been an odd couple of days since I got back from vacation. I've been dragging myself out of bed at what feels like 3:00 a.m. to get ready for work, spending much of the day in a haze, and then rallying at night, when my body thinks it's late afternoon - which leads me to staying up too late, making morning, once again challenging. So today I am giving up and letting the jet lag win. I am going to bed in the hopes of getting some extra sleep and feeling like a normal person tomorrow. Here's a pretty flower picture I took in Fairbanks. It'll have to do for blog content for today.
I am, at last, home from my long, long vacation to Alaska and British Columbia. I made it back to my place early this afternoon, after spending the night at my brother and sister-in-law's house in Virginia. My brother - who lives about 15 minutes away - picked us up at Dulles at 1:30 in the morning, a time at which there is no way I would expect (or request) a ride all the way to my place.
After I spent about an hour sitting on my couch and staring at the walls, I did something I have never, ever done immediately upon arriving home: I unpacked and started on my laundry. Now, I realize most people do this as a matter of course, but I have always had the terrible habit of letting my suitcase sit for days or even weeks before I emptied it completely. My last load of vacation wash will hit the drying rack before I go to bed (translation: momentarily) and I gotta say - it's nice having it done. I might need to make this a habit.
Tomorrow: back to work, where I expect I will die of exhaustion at some point in the early afternoon.