About Time And Place

Elisha Hunt Rhodes kept a diary during his time in America’s Civil War. It was later published under the title “All for the Union.”

As a graduate student studying military history, I thumbed through a modern edition of the book rather perfunctorily--until, that is, I came across one passage.

“Dec. 31/62—Well, the year 1862 is drawing to a close. As I look back I am bewildered when I think of the hundreds of miles I have tramped, the thousands of dead and wounded that I have seen, and the many strange sights that I have witnessed. I can truly thank God for his preserving care over me and the many blessings I have received. One year ago tonight I was an enlisted man and stood cap in hand asking for a furlough. Tonight I am an officer and men ask the same favor of me. It seems to me right that officers should rise from the ranks, for only such can sympathize with the private soldiers. The year has not amounted to much as far as the War is concerned, but we hope for the best and feel sure that in the end the Union will be restored. Good bye, 1862.”

To me, it was one of those rare instances when someone or something communicates across time. I was sitting on a shabby grad student couch in an equally modest grad student flat in State College, Pennsylvania. But I felt the heat of a campfire and the curious melancholy of the writer looking back at a year of blood, conflict and--at the same time--hope for the future.

To Elisha Hunt Rhodes, the tulmultuous year of 1863 was part of an unknown world.

While researching for a documentary on the battle between past and progress in American culture, I read about an even more poignant encounter.

A preservationist charged with restoring historic artifacts for the Smithsonian received a work order to mend a chip in Abraham Lincoln’s shaving mirror.

It seemed like a routine detail.

At some point in the process, however, he managed to catch his own reflection in the glass that everyday held the image of The Great Emancipator as he went about his morning chores--the word, tired face of Matthew Brady sepia tones.

The preservationist and the president, sharing in a reflection of past and present.

When Lincoln looked into this mirror, he was alive and the country was torn and men like Elisha Hunt Rhodes huddled around campfires putting their thoughts into leather-bound diaries. And for a moment in the 1990s--at least to one person--Honest Abe was again looking back from the mirrored glass.

The preservationist was so overwhelmed by this exchange of glances over time that he almost lost hold of the artifact.

You know, the past does not repeat itself. It can speak out to us, though. It can send shards of long forgotten emotion or meaning tearing through our minds.

In 1942, The New Yorker published a poem by Rolfe Humphries entitled “Polo Grounds”, at the time the home of baseball’s New York Giants.

In the piece, Humphries tried to measure the passage of time and memory, as well as the place of the individual the great progression of history:

“Time is of the essence. Remember Terry?

Remember Stonewall Jackson, Lindstrom, Frisch, When they were good?

Remember Long George Kelly? Remember John McGraw and Benny Kauff?

Remember Bridwell, Tenney, Merkle, Youngs,

Chief Meyers, Big Jeff Tesreau, Shufflin’ Phil?

Remember Mathewson, Ames, and Donlin,

Buck Ewing, Rusie, Smiling Mickey Welch?...

Time is of the essence. The shadow moves

From the plate to the box, from the box to second base,

From second to the outfield, to the bleachers.

Time is of the essence. The crowd and players

Are the same age always, but the man in the crowd

Is older every season.”

So with that I say good bye, 2012.