They say history repeats itself. I’m not sure who they is, I suppose the repetition of history through the generations has created this statement and proved it true. As a result, everyone knows and believes that history repeats itself, but does nothing about learning from history that is quoted repeatedly. I’m getting off track here.
My Minnesota history class has a site review assignment coming due, too soon for comfort. I referred to it during my grading conference on Monday. My history instructor, upon informing the class, described it as a book report only based on a location rather than a book. I groaned inwardly when I heard about the assignment’s existence. I’m still not looking forward to completing the writing. However, I did enjoy visiting the site that I chose, the site being the old CCC camp across from my parents’ house.
I have always known that it was over there, but I never actually knew that it was over there, if you know what I mean. As I walked through the woods with my mom and two of my siblings, we came into clearings that were abnormally square and walked alongside concrete foundations hidden by trees and moss. It is as if nature herself has tried to eradicate the camp’s presence from the earth. Just as we, the human race, have tried to erase the Great Depression from our minds. The Great Depression was a time in America’s history that we appeared weak and feeble, unable to cope with the effect of war and ignorance. It took a lot of work and ingenuity to pull the United States out of the hole. Part of the process was the creation of work camps where men could make money to support their families. CCC camps served their purpose back in the day, now we move on. I suppose in a way it represents a time in the United States that brings back memories not easily erased from the older generations. A time of trials and tribulations that they only came through with hard work and sacrifice. I wish that my generation could hear and learn from the examples that went before us.
Walking the barren land that once held the hustle and bustle of human life working to rebuild a way of life and to support their families back home made me really think hard about my life. Will the steps that I take and foundations that I build be so easily covered up and forgotten as those of the men from the Baptism CCC camp? Some camps have been made into historical markers but even then we have covered them up with our idealism that the life our ancestors once lived can remain untouched by our humanly, futuristic hands and unskewed by our impractically, progressive minds. Yet, the fact remains that history leaves undeniable and permanent marks on our land and our lives. We can never escape the creation of history, because time does not stand still and we can’t go back.
This is a letter that I recently wrote for my Comp class about my history class, I enjoyed writing it so I thought I would share it with you all. :)
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
The Stillness of the Woods
As I sit and consider the places that I have lived, my current residence and my favorite places, quite a few come to mind. I would not say that I am a demanding or hard to please person, however my comfort level in the past has been somewhat low. I am becoming more accustomed to being out of my comfort zone this is a good thing. The place I am the most at home maybe best explained by giving some examples about where I do not feel at home. I hate traffic, I can drive well, but it stresses me out. The constant rush of city and town life does nothing for me, some people thrive on it, I do not.
My favorite place to be, the one that makes me feel the most at home, is in the middle of the woods. I love everything about it. The stillness of the world when you are in the woods is breathtaking. To sit and hear the birds twittering and the breeze in the trees is an experience that I would love to experience on a daily basis. I enjoy the sound of gravel beneath my tires, and it’s even better if I’m in a big truck. The bounty that the earth provides is there for the taking. The wild berries, the wild rice, the ability to grow things in a patch of ground are a privilege. Even though animals can get in and wreak havoc on a garden, it’s a pleasure once the frustration is past. They are so clever and you can just see their little minds working to try to figure out how to get over the obstacles that are placed in their way. It’s another story with insects that invade a garden. I love going barefoot in the green grass and the feeling of warm rocks underneath my feet. The smell of fall and spring tempts me to go out and play in the forest. In the wintertime I love snow covered trees and the feeling that all is well in the world. The crispness in the air leaves me breathlessly content.
Eventually I would like to have a house in the woods; until I do, I have the privilege of going to my parents’ home in the woods. I suppose a large part of the reason I feel at home in the woods is because I that is where I was raised. My earliest memories are sitting out in the berry patch with my mom, climbing trees as tall as my house and making mud pies under the trees. The woods definitely hold my heart.
My favorite place to be, the one that makes me feel the most at home, is in the middle of the woods. I love everything about it. The stillness of the world when you are in the woods is breathtaking. To sit and hear the birds twittering and the breeze in the trees is an experience that I would love to experience on a daily basis. I enjoy the sound of gravel beneath my tires, and it’s even better if I’m in a big truck. The bounty that the earth provides is there for the taking. The wild berries, the wild rice, the ability to grow things in a patch of ground are a privilege. Even though animals can get in and wreak havoc on a garden, it’s a pleasure once the frustration is past. They are so clever and you can just see their little minds working to try to figure out how to get over the obstacles that are placed in their way. It’s another story with insects that invade a garden. I love going barefoot in the green grass and the feeling of warm rocks underneath my feet. The smell of fall and spring tempts me to go out and play in the forest. In the wintertime I love snow covered trees and the feeling that all is well in the world. The crispness in the air leaves me breathlessly content.
Eventually I would like to have a house in the woods; until I do, I have the privilege of going to my parents’ home in the woods. I suppose a large part of the reason I feel at home in the woods is because I that is where I was raised. My earliest memories are sitting out in the berry patch with my mom, climbing trees as tall as my house and making mud pies under the trees. The woods definitely hold my heart.
Hidden on a Hill
I have decided that I will post some of the things that I am writing for my college composition classes. I don't much feel like blogging right now so I won't go into much of my life right now. I am happy to annouce that I am writing a book, I don't necessarily have a title or a real clear topic for the book, but it will be non-fiction. I will put a few glimpses/excerpts on here from time time. It should be an interesting book as I live an interesting life :) not really... but I have an interesting point of view on life due to the way I was raised, my educational experiences, my moral standard and my "religious" (I hate the word religious but I think that's the most universal way to refer to it) views.
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