It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
When I first read the book, A Tale of Two Cities and later,The Scarlet Pimpernel, I hadn’t made the connection between the American Revolution and the French Revolution. In fact, although a school teacher may have thrown it out for consideration, I apparently didn’t catch it. Fortunately, those two classics made that connection for me.
Here we are this July 4th celebrating, as we do every year, the independence of our nation. Those American Patriots, French soldiers, and Native and African Americans making up the Continental Army fought some of their own countrymen: American Loyalists and Native and African Americans joining British soldiers. Imagine, if you will, disagreeing with your own countrymen over politics. And it didn’t happen over a year or two, or even four, but it was nearly nine years before the official end of the war.
It was an important disagreement.
That July 4, 1776 Declaration of Independence from Great Britain wasn’t a sudden decision. Years of tension between our 13 colonies and King George reached an irrevocable conflict. Think of it: Being taxed for all printed material, i.e. newspapers, legal documents, and pamphlets; not to mention playing cards and dice! Methinks a boundary was overstepped with the Stamp Act. Then, something most of us recall – the tea tax (3 cents per pound) – led to the “enough’s enough” action of the Boston Tea Party. It wasn’t really a party. We should commend those early Americans for fighting for our independence. Republicanism was a new thought, and the effort succeeded. It occurs to me that we should borrow some of that “enough’s enough” attitude from our forefathers. Tea isn’t the only thing we’re taxed for now.
The interesting thing is that, with our revolution, revolutions all over the globe erupted. The French Revolution, of course, which we remember, in part, due to its morbid guillotine; but also the Haitian revolution. Brazil, Greece, Argentina, Chile, Peru, Bolivia, Ecuador, Venezuela, and Mexico all hopped on board the revolution train, seeking to replace monarchies with republics. Not democracies. Republics.
Are you seeing any similarities yet? It does seem, doesn’t it, that we are witnessing something akin to the upheaval from history over 200 years ago. The question for the United States for America, of course, is found in Benjamin Franklin’s famous answer to Elizabeth Willing Powel’s question on the final day of the Constitutional Convention: “Well, Doctor, what have we got? A republic or a monarchy?” to which he answered, “A republic, if you can keep it.”
A republic if your can keep it. God help us keep it.
A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. 1859. Published by Chapman and Hall; https://www.history.com/news/american-revolution-independence-movements; https://www.thecleverteacher.com/the-ultimate-guide-to-teaching-the-revolutionary-war/; https://courses.lumenlearning.com/suny-fmcc-boundless-worldhistory/chapter/the-south-american-revolutions/; https://www.prageru.com/video/the-difference-between-a-democracy-and-a-republic
Can you imagine having a picnic in a cemetery? It was fairly common in the late 1800s, and I’ve read that it’s making a comeback. For some of you who associate graveyards with ghosts, I suppose a ham sandwich with chips and lemonade on a blanket there would lose its appeal.
wasn’t smart (according to them). They, of course, needed to install it inside my house. And not being terribly fond of strangers knocking at my door at 7:30 in the morning while I was still in my pajamas trying to enjoy my first cup of coffee, I found their visits less than welcome; and they found them less than welcoming. At least we had something in common. This was the third visit in five weeks, and I was beginning to wonder if Remer Electric had a secret ground game to irritate its uncooperative customers into compliance with their preferences. They were clearly unaware of my ground game of living life on my own terms. Some people might call that crabby. I call it the why am I paying for something that Tesla said should be free in the first place POV. I doubted the meter reader had read anything about Nikola Tesla, but who was I to judge? Everyone knows public utilities are for everyone’s well-being.
It was so dark he couldn’t see his hand even if he held it in front of his face. At first he hadn’t noticed the gradual encroachment. It was a bit misty, perhaps. Maybe exceptionally cloudy. It was possible he needed his eyes checked. No one believes a lie as easily as the one telling it, but with time his excuses started sounding false even to him. It was dark everywhere lately, and he recalled a place he could get a light to break a path so he at least wouldn’t trip. His grandmother had told him about it – the light – when he was young enough to believe such things existed, and where to find it. He hadn’t given it much thought until now. But now? Now it was all he could think of!
blankets. Some matches. He held the light close to them. They looked dry. At that moment the little storm cellar felt like paradise.
One day off. That’s all he wanted. Just a day to roam away from the drudgery of daily discipline. He didn’t have many such days. He was dependable and so was his schedule. His fine reputation was, in part, due to keeping commitments he made whether they made sense or not. He sighed. He was tired of commitments. Well he had none today! This would be a treat! He would RELAX. He decided to take an unfamiliar road out of town and came to a five-booth restaurant in a tiny town where he stopped, made small talk with the only other customer, and got a cup of coffee to go.
A glass building with an attached outdoor cafe caught his eye, so he pulled into the nearest parking spot. Why not? He was getting hungry. It was close to 11:00. Close enough. As he was finishing his corned beef and swiss on rye, an eerie sound, low and wavering and unyielding emitted from a sewer grate in the street near where he sat. A few customers ignored it and a few others paid and quickly left.
from unseen vents? An explosion of an old boiler? He increased his acceleration and found himself at a roundabout. He hated those things, but took it as a sign.