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Things on the Dresser

13 Mar

I have this weird notion that we can tell a lot about a person by the things they have lying around. That’s the reason I created a post about the things in my office. Well, that’s not the only reason. I was sitting in my office trying to come up with a mind-blowing topic to write about. At a loss, I just went ahead wrote about what I was looking at. It was also a good way to work on my description skills. Maybe I could create a mental picture with my words like most professional writers do. I am not sure if it work, but I am going to try it again.

I have meant to clean the clutter off of my dresser, and, before I do, I feel the need to record what is there.

Category 1 – Illumination

Like a lot of dressers, mine has two lamps sitting on it. You know the kind. They are skinny and have a small shade on top. They don’t put out much light, and the bulbs tend to blow out a different times. Usually, one works when the other one doesn’t.

I also have a couple of small candles. I am not a big candle fan, but they come in handy if I want to create a romantic mood – like when I am watching Cinemax After Dark.

Category 2 – Pictures

Most people would say this, but these are the most important items on the dresser. One is of me and my nephews piled up on a couch. It was made a few years ago when we took a luxury bus to the NASCAR race at Talladega. I’m not a huge racing fan, but I went because of them. It’s one of my favorite pictures.

Another picture was made when my dad was inducted into the Tennessee Softball Hall of Fame. We are standing there with some of his old players and friends. Everyone is laughing, and I know that he was very happy and proud that night.

The third picture was taken many years ago and included most of my extended family. We were on the deck of my grandparent’s lake house. We had one of those timer cameras, and people are kind of looking different directions. Three people in the picture have passed away – my grandfather, my grandmother and my uncle. One of my nephews is cradled in my dad’s arms. The other one wasn’t even born yet.

Category 3 – Art

That is a term that I use loosely because one was created by yours truly. I had a girlfriend that liked to go to one of those ceramic places where you can drink and paint. This is a two-sided thing with a green, black and blue sun on one side. The other side has an orange moon with red stars. Apparently, I was going through my color experimentation stage.

The other is a piece of pottery I bought in New Mexico. An old Indian woman claimed to make it, but I think some old Chinese woman actually did. It is a cattle skull with cool designs painted on it.

Category 4 – Cards

These are not Hallmark cards. No, these are truly close to my heart. A blackjack strategy card; 3 MGM Players Club cards; a Resorts Casino card; a Hollywood Casino card; a Harrah’s Casino card; and a deck of playing cards with the theme, “Hooker’s Live Bait – There’s Something Fishy Going On Around Here”.

Before you start thinking that I am a total gambling addict, I also have an Elvis Membership card to get discounts at Graceland. Oh, there is also a business card from the men’s shoe department at Nordstrom’s. I would say that I don’t shop there much, but there is a stack of receipts under all of the gambling cards.

Category 5 – Notes

Before I get to the clutter (you thought the other stuff was clutter?), I was surprised to find a couple of notes during the examination. One was written by an ex-girlfriend (not the one who liked to paint) as a thank you note for taking her on a trip.

The other came from my therapist with the instructions that I tape it to the mirror and recite it every morning. It reads, “Stand in your own space and know you are there.” I’m going to tape it up right now.

Ok, I’m back

Category 6 – Other Crap on My Dresser

There is a small stone club with a clip sticking out of it. I think it is to hold letters, but I have a devious mind with it comes to the use of clips. Maybe I can put the therapy note in there.

It sits on top of a flat piece of quartz, or something that looks like that.

I also have an unused Fossil wallet that was once a Christmas gift. I have gotten two other wallets since then.

There is a pair of black running shorts. Obviously, I meant to run. All kinds of people run around here, but I can never figure out what they are running from.

Two pairs of glasses, one sun and one regular, sit in front of their cases.

Oh, there are also three watches. One is broken. Another is a sample that my watch salesman friend had in his truck. The other one is a Rolex that my parents presented to me when I got a Masters. It’s pretty, expensive and pretty expensive, but it doesn’t keep good time.

Somewhere on there is a small remote that operates my iPod when it is hooked into the speakers and some buttons piled on top of it.

I collect pins, so there is one from the NASCAR Hall of Fame in Charlotte, North Carolina. For someone who isn’t a big race fan, I just mentioned it twice in this post. I can feel my neck turning red.

There are some scissors and a jar filled with coins.

Next to those is a ticket to see Footloose. I never saw the first one and didn’t want to see this one, but my girlfriend wanted to take her daughter. It wasn’t all that bad, and I got to look at Julianne Hough. Yowser!

However, the prize of this category is my stuffed Jackalope. What? You don’t know what a Jackalope is? Well, it is a rabbit with antlers, and they are all over New Mexico. Google it and see what you come up with.

Category 7 – Coin Dish

Last category, I promise. My coin dish contains everything but coins. Actually, there are a couple of Kennedy Half Dollars. I got them at a casino.

Other than that, there is a souvenir golf ball from The Masters. It’s the only sporting event that remains on my “wish to go” list.

There is also a chess piece that was supposed to be a therapy reminder device and a blue rock with “courage” printed on it.

There are ear plugs and a couple of guitar pics that I picked up at a Metallica concert. Those and the plugs seem to go together.

I also have a Godiva Chocolate card and a gold chain from the glory days of the 1980s.

Oh, there is also the Brothel Inspector badge that some students bought for me in Madrid, New Mexico.

However, there are four items that are very special. Two belonged to my grandfather – his pocket knife and a University of Tennessee tie pin.

The other two are championship rings. In 2010, my university won the baseball national championship, and I got a ring for serving as Faculty Athletic Representative. The second ring represents the ten state championships that my dad’s softball teams won over the years. That’s why he was inducted into the Hall of Fame.

And that, as they say, is that. Can you tell anything about me from the items gathered on my dresser? Or, did you make it this far?

I Would Like to Thank the Blogademy

5 Mar

You thought the awards season was over with the commendations of the entertainment world’s finest? So did I. But, it looks like us bloggers have our own presentations to make. Thankfully. Shockingly. Luckily. Surrounded by Imbeciles has been recognized for excellence in blogcasting. Actually, that’s probably not the reason, but it was fun to write.

To complete the acceptance process, I can skip the formal speech where I name everyone I ever knew and inevitably forget someone and simply follow an established set of rules.

1. I need to thank the presenter, and I can never thank Snobbery enough. Through her busy schedule of reading, writing, and raising kids, she has also found the time to promote this blog. Without a doubt, the hits would not be coming without her support.

2. I need to link the presenter, so check out the Snobby One and her creative posts. She recently changed the look of her domain, so be sure to tell her it looks good. Although, her old color of orange is my favorite.

3. I need to copy and paste the award which I gratefully accept. Receiving the Liebster Blog Award is the highlight of my life. As Sally Field said, “You like me, right now, you like me!”

You would think I could figure out how to center it.

4. I need to give the Liebster Blog Award to five blogs with less than 200 followers that I believe deserve recognition and more followers. This will be the hardest part because I don’t know what blogs have what followers. With that in mind, I award two blogs tonight and will award three blogs at a later date.

The SF Chronicles follows the adventures of a Canadian living in San Francisco. Before her visa runs out, she wants to complete her goal of visiting all of the states. She really wants to visit Nashville, which makes her cool beyond belief. Her writings are witty and insightful. When you check out the Chronicles, be sure to read about her adventures in photography class.

The Old Jewish Woman Who Changed My Life is written by a dude in my neck of the woods. Weird name for a blog, right? Check out his blog to find out why that name was chosen. He is busy being a med student but also finds time to perform good deeds and blogging about them. He also finds time to party in Atlanta with his friends.

So, the Liebster Award continues its journey through the blog world. As Elvis would say, “Thank you. Thank you very much. You’re a fantastic audience.”

Charting a Mystery

16 Feb

A month ago I wrote a post about old posts that we have probably forgotten about and how they don’t disappear but hang around in cyberspace until cyberspace collapses on itself. The post about “old posts” was inspired by the second ever post I published on this site – an ode to the peculiarities of gas pumps. It had never gotten any hits, then, all of a sudden, a person took a look at it. Needless to say, I was thrilled that some of the things I had written while wandering in this newfound wilderness of blogging had been read. I went back to look at it again. I wrote a new post about the experience. Then, I went on my merry blogging way.

Then, something strange happened. It got another hit. And another one. And another one. On and on it went for days. Each time I looked at the “Site Stats” another search engine term was popping up.

gas pumps

gasoline pump

pushing credit or debit at a gasoline pump

gasoline pump pictures

pictures of gasoline pumps

In a matter of weeks, a post that laid dormant forever and had been given up as unreadable and forgotten had just gone to the top of the Hit Parade. Once lagging behind at a total of ZERO hits, the sarcastic look at pumping gas reached the top of the charts and passed such favorites as:

Dirty Deeds and Thunder Chief

Guns ‘n Roses in Nashville

John Wayne and Edgar Allan Poe

It seemed that I had a mystery on my hands and needed the help of those meddling kids in the Mystery Machine. Have gas pumps suddenly gained a new popularity? Are people becoming interested in the intricacies of debit and credit card use? Has this become the hip thing to look up among hipsters?

To solve the mystery, I started up the search engine and began looking myself. Starting with the simplest search term, I typed in “gas pumps” and looked around. Page after page, I could not find a reference to the “Surrounded by Imbeciles” world. Then, I shifted to images, and, behold, “Surrounded by Imbeciles” appeared as the first entry on the first line.

Part of the mystery was solved, searchers had come to me through the photo I uploaded to the post. When they hit images, there it appeared. However, a second mystery remains. Why, in the middle of January, did gas pumps become so popular? Even after being forced to watch Murder, She Wrote as a kid, I don’t believe I have the sleuthing talents to figure it out. Perhaps, you readers can help. Or, maybe I should call the In Search Of version of Leonard Nimoy.

Brought to You By the Number 20

7 Feb

Count von Count makes his return on a milestone day in the world of “Surrounded by Imbeciles”, as of this moment 20 people are following the blog. I realize that’s not a great amount in comparison to many of the blogs out there, but that’s around 19 more than I thought would ever click the follow button. What makes it more special is the fact that no one in my non-internet life knows this blog exists. So, I appreciate everyone who follows this blog. With that in mind, here is a tribute to the number 20 HA HA HA HA!

20/20 – Obviously, this is the measurement for perfect vision, which is something I do not have. It is also the basis for the old saying, “Hindsight is 20/20.” However, this represents the television newsmagazine 20/20. Actually, I should narrow it further. This represents 20/20 in its original form with Hugh Downs as the host and reporters such as Geraldo Rivera and John Stossel. When I was a kid, I thought it was a cross between 60 Minutes and Real People. Looking back, I may not have been too wrong. Just remember, “I am Hugh Downs, and this is… 20/20.”

20,000 Leagues Under the Sea – The book? I have never read it. The movie? James Mason is cool, but Kirk Douglas is miscast. I am talking about the old ride at the Magic Kingdom in Disney World. It could have been the lamest ride ever. At least with “It’s a Small World” you know what you are going to get. “20,000 Leagues” faked you out with these cool looking submarines sitting in a lagoon. Once you climbed in there were these uncomfortable benches and the distinct smell of a locker room. Then, you look out of the windows at fake looking fish and plants. I changed my mind. It was the lamest ride ever.

$20 – This denomination honors Andrew Jackson, who lived down the road from my town. We hear a lot about “Old Hickory” in these parts, and I teach with a couple of Jacksonian historians. Jackson is a controversial figure of presidential history due to his policies toward Native Americans. In fact, the 20 is not a welcome denomination on many reservations. So, take some other money if you ever find yourself on one. There is some irony to Jackson’s portrait. He hated paper currency and shut down the national bank that issued it.

20 Questions – People say this is a fun game, but I have never had the patience for it. Once I get past “is it bigger than a breadbasket” I am throwing guesses out there.

20th Century Fox – The movie studio came into existence in 1935 with the merger of (surprise) 20th Century Pictures and Fox Film Corporation. It produced classic musicals such as The King and I and The Sound of Music. It got in trouble when management offered Elizabeth Taylor $1 million to star in Cleopatra, and she took it. However, there was a rebound in Science Fiction with Fantastic Voyage and Planet of the Apes. Of course, the studio reached Sci-Fi perfection in the 1970s with Star Wars. As a major studio, there are too many movies to list.

1920 – A big year in history, the 19th Amendment was ratified and gave women the right to vote, an event that my state played a major role in. Warren G. Harding was elected president of the United States. Bill Cullen, the host of more game shows than anyone in history, was born. George Gipp, the football player immortalized on film by Ronald Reagan, passed away.

There you have it. In honor of the 20 blog followers, a short dedication to the number 20.

Brought to You By the Number 50

26 Jan

The “Surrounded by Imbeciles” world hit a milestone yesterday with its 50th post. With that in mind, this installment is dedicated to the number 50 HA HA HA HA!

I never realized until this moment that his name is Count von Count.

50/50 – The chance that I would reach 50 posts when this blogging experiment began.

50 First Dates – Adam Sandler + Drew Barrymore + Groundhog Day = 50 million dead brain cells. Also, when was the last time you saw something about Hawaii without the Israel Kamakawiwo’ole version of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” included on the soundtrack. Great song but don’t overdo it.

50 States – Do you know why it’s an even number? Because they had to bring states in two at a time before the Civil War to make sure that the number of free states and slave states was equal.

Hawaii 5-0 – Are you Team Jack Lord or Team Alex O’Loughlin? Honestly, I have never seen an episode of either incarnation. The opening is cool, but I could never get past it.

50 Ways to Leave Your Lover – Actually Paul, there are countless ways to leave your lover, but 50 makes a good round number for a song title. When I was a kid, I could sing the parts like “slip out the back, Jack” and “make a new plan, Stan”. However, as an adult my favorite line is the first – “The problem is all inside your head”, she said to me. Truer words have never been sung. Just ask my ex-girlfriends.

50 Cent – Is he a good rapper? I have no idea. However, he hooked up with Chelsea Handler, so I have to include him for that accomplishment.

50 Hard-Boiled Eggs – “What we’ve got here is failure to communicate.” One of the great lines in movie history. What does that have to do with eggs? Cool Hand Luke ate 50 hard-boiled eggs to win a bet. Later, the speech was given while he lay crumpled in a ditch.

50 Bonus Points – There is nothing (well, there may be a few things) better than using all of the letters in Scrabble and getting the bonus points.

50 Steals – Ty Cobb stole home a record 50 times. He did that while beating up a man with no hands; investing in Coca-Cola; being a racist; and, spending his days being an all around prick. They claim that he covered for his mother when she shot his father by accident. She was with her lover at the time. Not sure that’s a good enough excuse for a lifetime of degeneration.

1950 – A year of great events. “Peanuts” debuted in American newspapers. Victoria Principal, the hot wife on “Dallas”, was born. “All the King’s Men”, a fictionalized account of Huey Long, won the Academy Award for Best Picture. The game show “Truth or Consequences” debuted. A New Mexico town was later renamed in the show’s honor.

There you have it. A short homage to the number 50 HA HA HA HA

The Smell of Cape Jasmine

23 Jan

As a historian, I have never been interested in studying the past of my region, the South. I have heard about the Civil War and other aspects of its history all of my life and never really wanted to go behind the scenes of the stories and anecdotes of my childhood. However, this does not mean that I have turned my back on the South. As written in other posts, I have traveled throughout the United States, but I have never considered living anywhere but here. It is my home and everything that is associated with that word. Family. Friends. Familiarity. The “Three F’s” I suppose. I study the West, but I am a child of the South. But, like many others, I am not sure what it means to be a southerner.

Does it mean that I should be ashamed of a heritage of slavery and rebellion? Or, does it mean that I should be proud of a heritage of southern Founding Fathers like Washington and Jefferson? Does it mean that I should be proud of being raised in the Bible Belt? Or, does it mean I should be ashamed to be a native of a region that still argues over teaching the theory of evolution? Before answering those questions, I should explain what being a southerner is all about (at least for me).

It is eating black eyes peas and hog jaw on New Year’s Day for good luck.

It is going to college football games on Saturday’s in the fall.

It is visiting family on Sunday afternoon.

It is watching “Smokey and the Bandit” and realizing that you know a sheriff just like that.

It is going for a ride on a country road.

It is pulling over to pay respects to a passing funeral procession.

It is saying hello to a stranger that you pass on a sidewalk.

It is having a meal of fried chicken and turnip greens.

It is going to the National Walking Horse Celebration and wondering why the federal government won’t leave them alone.

It is being baptized when you are eleven years old because that’s what you are supposed to do.

It is wishing that people in other parts of the country would understand that you are not stupid because you talk differently.

It is thinking that people in New England talk funny.

It is being proud that Blues, Country, Rock ‘n Roll, Southern Rock, Bluegrass, Gospel and just about every other genre of music came from the South.

It is knowing that not all southerners would make this same list because we all don’t fit into the southern stereotype.

Notice that the list does not include driving a pickup truck; hunting or fishing; flying a rebel flag; drinking beer in a field; being a racist; having no teeth or shoes; or handling snakes in church. Of course, there are people who fit those descriptions. Just like there are people all over the country that fit those descriptions (except for maybe the snake handling). I am proud to be from the South and accept its good and bad qualities, but I have never known how to explain that pride. Maybe this post has done it. If not, then I will finish by writing about a song that I have always liked. It is country (which is strange for me), but I feel a connection to it. I will try to explain why.

“Good Ole Boys Like Me” by Don Williams

When I was a kid, Uncle Remus he put me to bed

With a picture of Stonewall Jackson above my head.

Then daddy came in to kiss his little man

With gin on his breath and a Bible in his hand.

He talked about honor and things I should know.

Then, he’d stagger a little as he went out the door.

(Uncle Remus is a collection of stories that were passed down from the days of slavery. They are mostly fables and tales that teach lessons. However, they are racist in the way they present Uncle Remus, a docile African-American man. Disney made a movie based on the stories which has faced a racist backlash as time has passed. I never heard these stories when I was a kid, but I was told plenty of stories along the same lines, namely the story of Little Black Sambo. Despite this experience, I did not grow up to be a racist or a member of the Klan.)

(Stonewall Jackson was a Civil War hero for the confederacy. While most southerners did not have pictures of Civil War officers hanging in their houses, this line aims at the importance many southerners still place on that terrible time in our history. Southerners have tended to forget what the war was about and focus on the fact that the South lost. For generations, this created a sense of inferiority. Of course, the economic conditions didn’t help. I once read an article with the theory that the debacle of the Vietnam War did not affect the South as it did other parts of the nation because the South already knew how it felt not to win.)

(My dad does not drink, but he is very religious. He has been a deacon in the church and complains about why I don’t go. However, this line hits home because I still call him “daddy”. I saw George Carlin (my favorite comedian of all time) in concert, and he made fun of grown southern men using this word. It may be dumb, but we still do it. It is not a childish act but an act of respect. The gin and Bible part is very southern because both play an important role in southern society. Honor is also an important part of southern ideology and society. Heck, that was one of the arguments for the Civil War – the north was challenging southern honor. There is a reason that dueling was legal in the South longer that it was anywhere else. And, it is still important in the South. It isn’t polite to air your dirty laundry in public.)

I can still hear the soft southern winds in the live oak trees.

And those Williams boys, they still mean a lot to me –

Hank and Tennessee.

I guess we’re all gonna be what we’re gonna be.

So, what do you do with good ole boys like me?

(Live oak does not mean that the tree is not dead. This is an iconic tree throughout the South and is the state tree of Georgia. Any picture of an old plantation has live oak’s in it. There is a reason that Twelve Oaks is one of the plantations in “Gone With the Wind”. While this may be a natural symbol of the region, it actually has a varied geography – mountains, river bottoms, swamps, hills.)

(The Williams boys shows the variety that the South has offered to American culture. Hank Williams was a legend in the world of country music and a songwriting genius. Tragically, he drank to excess and died in his 20s, but his music continues to inspire musicians and singers. One of the great writers of the 20th Century, Tennessee Williams provided us with plays and literary works that delve into the psyche and soul. “The Glass Menagerie”. “A Streetcar Named Desire”. “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”. The list goes on and on. The South may have produced rednecks, but it also produced artistic geniuses. These are but two.)

And nothing makes a sound in the night like the wind does.

But you ain’t afraid if you’re washed in the blood like I was.

The smell of cape jasmine through the window screen.

John R. and the Wolfman kept me company

By the light of the radio by my bed

With Thomas Wolfe whispering in my head.

(The wind is blowing now, and it is one of my favorite sounds. However, that is not a southern thing. Being washed in the blood is. Baptism is a rite of passage in this part of the world. It is something that everyone I know was expected to go through. Each denomination has a different way of doing things, but most have similarities. At the end of the church service, the preacher asks for those who want to accept Christ to come to the front. If you feel the spirit, then you go to the front. Once the singing stops, the preachers announces to the congregation that you have made a decision to join the church and asks them to affirm it. At some point, you are baptized. In my church, this meant a full immersion under water. There you go – afterlife insurance. I joined at 11. My dad joined at 5. Neither one of us knew what we were doing, but we were saved nonetheless.)

(Cape Jasmine is a white flower known for its fragrance. It is called Cape because people thought it came from the Cape of Good Hope. It actually originated in Asia. There are all sorts of flowers and plants throughout the South due to the warm climate. Some, such as the Cape Jasmine, have brought beauty and an air of social standing. Lots of flower clubs exist around here for the uppity women of the South. This is probably left over from the days of plantations that fancied themselves as cousins of British aristocracy. Other plants, like cotton and tobacco have brought fortune but also infamy.)

(John R. and the Wolfman are my favorite names in this song. John R. was a Nashville legend as lead disc jockey on WLAC-AM, a clear channel station that reached 28 states. He played rhythm and blues and introduced southern African-American performers to listeners throughout his range. John R. became so popular with African-American audiences that they thought he was African-American as well. Wolfman Jack was a more famous disc jockey and gained this fame on the most powerful signal in North America, XERF-AM out of Ciudad Acuna, Mexico.)

(Thomas Wolfe, from Asheville, North Carolina, was a great southern novelist. I believe he is referenced in this song for his 1940 work, “You Can’t Go Home Again”. Once you have grown and left your surroundings, you can never go by to that “idyllic” lifestyle again. I put idyllic in quotations because once we look back we realize that it was never as good as we imagined. People often talk of the good old days, but they were never that good. Southerners, especially of the white variety, may think times were simpler then, but were they really? Segregation. No air conditioning. Many without electricity. Few well-paying jobs to be found. A great distance between the wealthy and the non-wealthy, both white and black. We can go home again physically, but we can never return intellectually and emotionally.)

When I was a kid I ran with a kid down the street,

And I watched him burn himself up on bourbon and speed.

But, I was smarter than most, and I could choose.

Learned to talk like the man on the six o’clock news.

When I was eighteen lord, I hit the road,

But it really doesn’t matter how far I go.

(Much of this song is more appropriate for the experiences of generations before mine. However, this part remains true to today. Several of the people I grew up with and played with as a child have become town drunks that waste their time in the bars a beer joints around town. I realize this happens all over the world, but I know that they never had aspirations of becoming the “town drunk”. Unlike the song, I didn’t leave. I found opportunity in the area and went with it. That makes me lucky. But, it makes me sad to see people with the same opportunity go down another path.)

So, what was this post? I am not sure myself. It is a defense of a region and a critique of the same region. Maybe it’s like family. I can talk about them all day long, but I’ll defend them if someone else says the same. That’s what being from the South is like. We can talk about each other and realize that we have issues. But, other people had better not join the discussion. Now that I think about it, that’s probably what the people who seceded from the country thought too.

The post is also an excuse to analyze one of my favorite songs (even though it’s country). So, if you made it this far I hope that you learned something. I learned that some questions don’t have answers. So, what do you do with good ole boys like me?

Old Posts Home

16 Jan

Something interesting happened in my Dashboard today, and it made me consider what blogging is all about. I started this blog on November 1, 2011 and had no idea what to write or what would happened when I did. Things began with an introductory post that explained where I got “Surrounded by Imbeciles” and told a few things about myself. It was after this post that I realized there was an “About” section.

On November 2, I published my second post titled “The Problem With Gas Pumps”, which covered my notion that gas pumps think people are stupid. I always said that if I blogged, then I would start with that rant. In my mind, it was a good attempt at sarcasm and wit. However, it wasn’t until today that someone clicked on it. I have been blogging for a while now and, while not an expert, feel like I am getting better at it. I have had a bunch of hits; plenty of comments; and met some great people. (Now that I have figured out how to create a link, you should check out my favorite blog and super supportive reader, the Book Snob.) But, I never considered what happened to the old posts that nobody ever read. Do they go to an “old posts home”? They don’t. They live forever as information leakages from our brains. The things we put on here never go away. While we may forget about them and think that people will never go back into the archives and look around, all it takes in an engine search to receive a click.

As a historian, I am accustomed to combing through documents in local and state archives and studying the artifacts of the past. But, it never hit me until today that blogs are the modern equivalent of the letters, journals and diaries of the past. I have read all about other people’s lives and thoughts, and now a few people are reading about mine. It’s kinda cool and kinda strange at the same time. I can only hope that when people look through my “archives” they will find something as interesting as I have found looking through the paper kind.

A Historian’s Office

6 Jan

Two days of constant meetings have melted my mind, and the only sounds I can hear over the drone of voices are my brain cells screaming as they leap to their deaths. As I sit in my office in an attempt to recover, I  can’t think of anything clever or interesting to write about. Therefore, I am going to take the easy way out and describe what I see – my office.

My office has turned into a popular hangout on campus, and I sometimes describe it as the El Paso train station. People are always coming and going. Students and teachers drop by to visit on a regular basis, and they often comment on the things I have scattered about. Of course, that is once they get past the darkness of it all. I keep all lights off except for one desk lamp. I have been accused of being a vampire; of trying to be mysterious; and of being a cave-dweller. I usually reply that I do my best work in the dark, but the truth is that the bigger lights hurt my eyes. Whatever the complaints and smart comments, people must like my office because someone is always in it.

With that in mind, I am going to attempt this blog experiment to test my descriptive skills. I am going to sit at my desk and describe the things I can see. We will do this in categories.

Category 1 – Wall Hangings

As I look to my left, there are four things hanging on the wall.

1. An old print of a cattle drive that I stole out of one of the classrooms. The teacher in that room is a Native American, so I figured he didn’t want cowboys in there anyway. Two cowboys are riding hard to stop a stampede that began with a lightning storm.

2. A photograph of Ulysses S. Grant. It is an iconic photo of the general as he leans against a tree. The best part is his original signature that is matted underneath.

3. A collection of Confederate money. There are six Confederate bills – One, Two, Five, Ten, Twenty, Fifty – matted and framed. There are a lot of Sons of Confederate Veterans members around here who wish the money was still good.

4. A photograph of Adolph Hitler and a Nazi arm band. It is a typical picture of the tyrant in civilian clothes. Like the photo of Grant, the most interesting part of this item is the document included with his original signature. I explain to everyone that I am not a Nazi. I simply think it is a remarkable piece of history.

Now, I move to the wall in front of me.

1. Above the door, there hangs a panoramic of the Tennessee Maneuvers. When the U.S. entered World War II, the military believed that troops needed to be seasoned with war games before going to Europe. Tennessee is geographically similar to where they were going, and the area was selected for that purpose. My university was chosen as the headquarters, as troops fought battles; liberated cities; and built bridges across rivers.

2. A plaque given to me after serving as honorary coach for our men’s basketball team. It was a resounding victory.

3. A plaque given to me in recognition for serving on the community council of a local bank.

4. A plaque given to me as the “Most Outstanding Faculty Member” for last year. I was proud of this because I beat my mentor before he retired. He had won the award a million years in a row.

5. A certificate honoring me as a Colonel Aide de Camp for the governor of Tennessee. They pass these things out like candy. It is the same certificate given to Harlan Sanders in Kentucky. He wasn’t a real colonel. He was  a fake one like me.

6. A drawing of the old county courthouse. It was consistently voted the ugliest courthouse in Tennessee and was demolished before I was born.

I hope this is not getting monotonous. On to the wall on my right.

1. My favorite plaque. It reads, “On This Site In 1897 Nothing Happened”. I got it at the Longwood Plantation in Natchez, Mississippi. Some of you may know it better as the home of the king of Mississippi in “True Blood”.

2. A license of prostitution given to Rosita del Oro in 1876. This probably attracts the males to my office because it is included with a photograph of a nude woman playing a harp.

3. The next item covers a lot of the wall. I took a lot of pictures of the Dumas Brothel when I researched it in Butte, Montana. Upon my return, I had a local artist paint a few of the photographs. This one depicts the interior of a crib, a one room shack that prostitutes would work out of. A woman is sitting by the window in an attempt to draw customers. I will blog more later about the women of the cribs.

Finally, the wall behind me.

1. Another painting of the Dumas depicts the outside of the building. It is a two-story brick building that the artist placed in a Victorian setting. I am not real happy about the woman in the window. She looks a lot like Morticia Addams.

Category 2 – Filing Cabinet Decor

1. A magnetic fish with legs and Darwin written inside of it. I picked it up in Santa Fe and have to hide it when my parents come around.

2. A sticker of George Washington with a dialogue bubble that says, “I grew hemp.” I believe he was the largest producer in the colonies.

3. A magnetic voodoo doll that I bought in New Orleans. I haven’t tried it out yet, but people better watch out.

4. A bumper sticker with an alien on it that says, “You Don’t Scare Me. I’m A Teacher!” It came from the UFO Museum in Roswell, New Mexico, one of the greatest museums ever.

5. On top of the cabinet sits an original World War I German helmet – the kind with the spike on top. They would jab it into the ground and use it as a cooking pot. They used it as another got of pot as well. You can use your imagination.

Category 3 – Bookshelf Without Books

Top shelf first.

1. A miniature of the Roman Coliseum. I got it in Rome.

2. A candle from the San Xavier del Bac in Tucson, Arizona. An ex-girlfriend got it for me, and I finally visited the site last year.

3. A model of the Mayflower, the boat filled with pilgrims searching for religious freedom. Ugh. The real story of the Mayflower is a lot more interesting.

4. Two bobbleheads. One is a sheik wearing sunglasses. The other is a Muslim woman wearing an abaya. This is not an attempt at a political or religious statement. They were given to me by an ex-girlfriend who moved to the UAE. They sold them. She bought them. I displayed them.

Next shelf.

1. A textbook on Western Civilization. This is very outdated.

2. A book called, “Pauline’s: Memories of the Madam on Clay Street”. It was given to me by the university president and chronicles the life of a madam in Bowling Green, Kentucky.

3. Another book titled, “Life of Tom Horn”. He was a prominent figure in the cattle wars of Wyoming. Bad ending, they hung him.

4. And another book called, “Intimate Papers of Colonel House”. I have not read this. It is an old book gifted to me by a professor who passed away.

5. A little set of nuns and priests playing poker. This is from the same ex-girlfriend who gave the candle to me. These little guys came from Italy. I wouldn’t want to sit across the table from any one of them.

5. Along side those things is my Masters thesis about prostitution in mining camps of the American West. I don’t have much to say about this, except that I finished it.

The bottom shelf (I know. Thank God!)

1. A replica of a statue on campus. It was built to honor the laborers who built my building during the Great Depression. It is meant to symbolize the New Deal and other aspects of the era. Unfortunately, it is out of proportion and looks like a midget.

2. A brick from this building that was dislodged during renovation. It was originally laid in 1936 and looks like it.

3. A beer stein decorated with John Wayne pictures. I can’t help it. John Wayne is my all time favorite actor. Inside the stein, I placed glass sunflowers that a weird female student once gave me. Don’t ask.

I suppose this should end, but I can’t describe a historian’s office without listing a few books. We all have to have books. So, I will name the first book I see on each shelf.

Category 4 – Books

1. “Soiled Doves: Prostitution in the Early West” by Anne Seagraves

2. “The Pueblo Revolt of 1680: Conquest and Resistance in Seventeenth-Century New Mexico” by Andrew L. Knaut

3. “Parlor Politics: In Which the Ladies of Washington Help Build a City and a Government” by Catherine Allgor

4. “Authenticated History of the Bell Witch, and Other Stories of the World’s Greatest Unexplained Phenomenon” by M.V. Ingram

5. “Awash in a Sea of Faith: Christianizing the American People” by Jon Butler

6. “Mining Town: The Photographic Record of T.N. Barnard and Nellie Stockbridge from the Couer d’Alenes” by Patricia Hart and Ivar Nelson

Thankfully, that’s it. Oh, you may be wondering about my desk. Classes haven’t started yet, so there is nothing on it except sunglasses and a lamp.

Of Red Lights and Research

19 Dec

When I began my career as a graduate student in History, I knew that I wanted to focus on the American West. While popular culture has developed the myth of the lone rider traveling the region with absolute freedom, I realized that the truth was more complicated than that. People who went into the West were not looking for freedom. They were looking for economic opportunity. Therefore, I became interested in the economic aspects of the West rather than the typical subjects, such as gunfighters and outlaws. Of course, economics encompasses a great deal, and I was informed by my guiding professor that some limitation were in order. Then, the following transpired.

I would like to study the cattle industry.

There’s already a lot of research on that. What else are you interested in?

The mining industry was huge. How about that?

That’s been done to death, too.

Ok, what about the lumber industry?

That won’t work either.

(This is when I realized that I should go ahead and ask him what I should do.)

Ok, what should I do?

Did you ever think about researching prostitution? People are just not starting to look into it.

Sounds great to me. Thanks.

With that short conversation, I began life as an expert on prostitution in the American West. Through the years, I have read, researched, written and spoken about the economics of prostitution in the West and the everyday lives of the people involved in the industry. When people (especially men) find out about what I know about, they immediately start in. What are the brothels in Nevada like? Leave it to you to study whores. Ever study the whores on Dickerson Road (a notorious spot in Nashville)? I am left to explain that I have conducted scholarly research about dead prostitutes – not ones that are currently working. And, I did not choose the topic because I am a pervert. With this in mind, here is a synopsis of my life as a historian of prostitution in the West.

I went to graduate school in Tennessee, and my fellow students said only I would choose a topic halfway across the continent to research. People usually research something more conveniently located. However, I was not going to pick the Civil War or Andrew Jackson over the American West. I read all I could locally but knew that I would eventually have to travel. Luckily, I found two brothel museums fairly close together. The first was the Dumas Brothel in Butte, Montana. I spent several weeks in Butte and came to know the city quite well. Actually, there’s not much to know. I spent a lot of time at the Dumas, the archives and the Denny’s. I met some great people who helped me considerably and learned a great deal about the history of the city and of the Red Light District.

Wallace, Idaho sits just over the Idaho/Montana border and was home to the second museum, the Oasis Rooms. I only spent a few days in Wallace, but the people there were more than helpful. I took some great pictures and got some greater information.

With the information gathered from these locations and documents about the industry throughout the West, I was able to write a concise history about prostitution. In the midst of getting my graduate degree, I was hired at my current teaching position. As a new faculty member, students had no idea what to expect. Honestly, I had no idea what to expect either. But, I was determined not to let the research go to waste. I was going to talk about whoredom every chance I got. The first class was stunned when I gave the lecture on the 19th Century sex industry, and it was not long before word got around. I was the cool teacher that studied prostitutes instead of something uncool like regular History. From then until now, my classes constantly fill, and my office is always busy. They come by to see the photographs of prostitutes and the paintings of brothels on my walls.

As a small university, we are also expected to speak to community groups and perform other types of community service. This has created some interesting speeches for me. I am a member of the local Rotary Club and was asked to speak when I first joined. They insisted that I talk about my research. I tried to warn them that it wasn’t all fuzzy stories about Miss Kitty and the “whore with the heart of gold”, and they said it was fine. So, I gave them all the gory details. I think half of the audience was gone by the time I was finished, as several women walked out in disgust. Interestingly, no men left. I learned something that day. While people say they want to know history, they would rather not know the darker sides of the subject. I toned down the presentation after that experience.

Many people think that if I know about prostitution in the 19th Century American West, then I also know about prostitution at all other times as places. A retired colleague thought that and told the Daughters of the American Revolution that I would speak to them. When I said that they probably know more about the revolution than I do, he replied that I should talk about prostitution. I knew nothing about prostitution in the American Revolution, so I did some research. But, with the Rotary experience behind me, I was nervous about talking to a room full of elderly women. To make it go smoother, I used a historical code word – camp-followers – instead of a more descriptive term. As I spoke, I heard the following conversation between told ladies in the back.

What’s he talking about?

Camp-followers.

What?

Camp-followers.

What?

HE’S TALKING ABOUT WHORES!!!

Oh, now I understand.

So, now I am famous in my little town as the expert on whores. An older man in town, who has since passed away, came to me with a book that he had read about a madam in New Mexico. He had found a name in it that he recognized – mine. I was used as a footnote in the introduction, which was written by the professor who sent me on the journey through the Red Light Districts. I was proud to see my name in print and, for the first time, felt like a real historian. I bought a copy for my parents. They looked at it, and my mom said, “All those years of study, and you are in a book with a picture of a naked women on the front of it.”

Yep, I had made it.

Maybe I Should Give You Some History

16 Dec

As a historian, I feel that I have neglected my calling by not writing about some interesting aspect of the past. I haven’t written about it for several reasons.

1. I like to think that I am a well-rounded person with many interests and many things to write about. I hope those who have stumbled across the blog find those things entertaining and insightful.

2. History is my job, and I need this blog to be an escape from my job and other aspects of my everyday life. It is hard to escape my job because a lot of people have an interest in some aspect of the past. Often, they will ask me questions about a person or an event that they have already established an opinion about. The Civil War is really bad in these parts. They are Civil War buffs and think that I should be as well. You can’t realize how many times someone has started a conversation by asking, “You are a history buff aren’t you?” Actually, I’m not. I am a professional historian.

3. A lot of people find history boring. These are the ones who were probably forced to memorize dates by some football coach/teacher in high school. I figured that if I was going to get a lot of hits, then I should not focus on historical subjects.

With those in mind, I feel the need to give a little history lesson. As I thought about what to write, I realized that I did not want to throw out a big lecture. Then, I remember that several years ago my university came up with an advertising idea. We would buy radio time and provide 30 seconds of historical tidbits. The history faculty came up with some short stories to be read in these spots. It took quite a bit of time, but the ads were never recorded. I am thinking that there is no reason to let them go to waste. So. periodically I will put one of them on the blog. Not surprisingly, each one has a connection to my home state. Here is the first one.

Did you know that one of America’s most highly regarded sports writers was from Tennessee? Born in Murfreesboro in 1890, Grantland Rice began his journalistic career at the Nashville News before finally becoming a writer for the New York Tribune. When his column became nationally syndicated, Rice’s writing style – a combination of sports news, gossip and commentary – lead to popularity throughout the United States. Through Rice’s vivid descriptions and artistic use of the English language, fans could visualize teams that they had never seen. Famous for naming the “Four Horsemen” of Notre Dame, perhaps Grantland Rice’s most remembered line is derived from a poem. “For when the One Great Scorer comes to mark against your name, He writes – not that you won or lost – but how you played the game.”