The Blaisdell Blog

Today is the anniversary of the beginning of the War of 1812.  Oddly, this war has led to some startling revelations about myself.   I’m not the person I thought I was.   Few of us are, but usually we learn this bit by bit.   Everyone who labors in the dusty halls and musty graves of genealogy knows that right about the time you think you have a good bead on your family, one more fragile slip of paper shows up and any preconceptions you may have arrived at—no matter how well constructed—are tipped on end.   Several years ago I became my family’s truth seeker.   It isn’t the job I wanted but it is the job I got.   When your failing mother sends you her tirelessly gleaned but randomly arranged portfolio on the family, you don’t tell her that she really needs to rattle the rest of the family tree for a willing participant.    You thank her and start sorting.   Ten years later I had turned the papers, my own research and a love of the “small” stories of American history i

I am one of the lucky people who had a great father.   He was a loving, good-natured man who never met a stranger.   When I was growing up, Mom was the law and Dad was the gospel.   He could always be counted on to make a joke of our foibles and give us a pass on minor infractions.   Mom, on the other hand, was sure that cutting us a break while young meant moral weakness later on.   They were a good team, which, I am sure, is how nature meant it.   Parenting is a young person’s sport and a two person job when ever possible.   Yes, I know there are plenty of great single parent homes out there but it surely can’t be easy.               Fathers are frequently the least appreciated and acknowledged part of the parental team.   [Part of the feminist movement seems to be not so much elevating women as denigrating men.]   Studies have shown us that if you want to raise strong, independent daughters with a positive sense of self-worth, the presence of a loving, involved father is absol

Marion Robert Morrison was not the best actor in the world.   He certainly was never up to Shakespeare, but he knew that.   Mr. Morrison, better known as John Wayne, knew exactly who and what he was—Hamlet “no,” Hondo “yes.”   There are few actors who seem so entirely comfortable inside their own skin.   I was reminded of all of this when I watched the movie, McClintock! last night.   There is absolutely nothing about McClintock! that is politically correct.   But there they are: John Wayne, Maureen O’Hara (a frequent co-star) and an all-star cast having too much fun, drinking too much, acting in stereotype, and having the best mud fight of any movie any where.   “You’ve caused a lot of trouble here, Pilgrim.   Somebody should teach you a lesson.   But I won’t.   I won’t.   To hell I won’t.” This may not be the best movie the Duke ever made, but it makes my top ten.   Whether playing the damaged, weary pilot, Dan Roman, in The High and the Mighty or the resolute naval c