Category: Autobiographical
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Driving north on Rt. 16, I can still be surprised by the appearance of the White Mountains from a few hilltops between Wakefield and Ossipee. For a moment, today, I was even treated to Mt. Chocorua and Mt. Washington as the dominant figures in a stunning pattern of silhouettes that…
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It’s a beautiful day over here in Down East Maine, where my mother is undergoing a two-part procedure while I wait outside. The picture here is of the waiting area wing of the surgery center on Maine Med’s Scarborough campus.
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My brother took the above photo on his trip to New Hampshire last month. It’s the old barn at the house we grew up in, viewed from a dirt road. Below is a picture he took of that house. It was badly in need of paint nine years ago, when…
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It feels strange to be back home in DC after nine months away in rural New Hampshire. And I’m driving back up next week for my father’s memorial service—driving because flying sounds like a terrible option these days. My father was able to live at home for most of these…
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In-home and residential care options for octogenarians have become extremely limited in these trying times, so I’ve been spending the last quarter of 2021 at my parents’ in the White Mountains. This will continue into 2022. I miss DC, but it’s not like I can take advantage of the city’s…
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A younger historian on Facebook called this picture a “Nice primary source of the late Cold War!” I don’t know what that makes me, the guy in front, but I decided to share here too.
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When confronted with history too narrowly conceived or framed, I often think back to one graduate course I took, “Issues in British Literature,” which challenged me on a number of levels. To start with, the British historiography we learned seemed to have nothing in common with what I had encountered…