The Blaisdell Blog

  On November 19, 1863, President Abraham Lincoln gave voice to the most beautiful speech ever given on the arc and destiny of the American experiment.   That date is the 157 th anniversary of the delivery of the Gettysburg Address.   There are five copies that still exist in Abraham Lincoln’s own handwriting.   Each one is a bit different, as Lincoln painstakingly crafted the message he wanted to deliver. The speech capped off the commemoration of the Battle of Gettysburg, which had been fought July 1-3, 1863.   Gettysburg had been so momentous, the cost so great and the victory so solemn that a day of remembrance was due. The Battle of Gettysburg!   In three days of battle 45,000 men were killed, injured, captured, permanently maimed or simply disappeared.    In historian Bruce Catton’s book, The Gathering Storm, he spoke about the events leading to secession as “…putting the touch of fire to a sleepy little market town called Gettysburg.”    Catton had an historian’s knack

  There is a photograph on the wall of my sister’s home that is both precious and haunting to me.   It is a restored, blown up and framed photo of my father on his way to the South Pacific during World War II.   It was taken by an Army photographer from a small tender craft as my Dad’s ship, the S.S. Monterey, left harbor.   In a happy accident, the picture was taken with a close up of Pfc. Frank G. Yatckoske front and center.   He is in the midst of a host of soldiers leaning over the rail, all smiling and mugging for the camera.   My father is leaning out from the rest, his arms braced on the rail of the ship, his smile—a straight, wide grin filled with mischief—is set in a young, lean, handsome face.   Every man on that ship seems filled with enthusiasm, bonhomie, even a sense of adventure. Those poor young men didn’t have a clue.               I don’t want to contemplate what happened to most of those men.   I know that “I” Company of the 63 rd Infantry, 6 th Division went

  With elections much in the news, I am reminded of this political junkie’s exploration of history and loss of innocence.    Since I am a political animal I have long been fascinated with the “first in the nation” vote that comes out of Dixville Notch, New Hampshire.   Due to a curious New Hampshire law i.e. when all the registered voters in a precinct have voted the polls may close, the10 registered voters of Dixville Notch, started gathering at midnight on Election Day, voting as a group and then closing up.   They achieved notoriety as the first Americans to vote (they weren’t, but they had good press agents) and the media presented it as a grass roots event. In my naïveté I accepted this story as it was sold.   Here were the simple, down home folk of New Hampshire gathering around a wood fireplace in a cabin in the woods.   The whole thing was reminiscent of Calvin Coolidge being sworn in by kerosene lantern in his father’s Vermont home after Warren G. Harding died.   I ate tha