A Haunting Missive

Today as I drove to the upstate of South Carolina, I began thinking about Sullivan Ballou and the letter he wrote to his wife, Sarah, in 1861. Sullivan was killed near Manassas, Virginia, in the first major land battle of the American Civil War. I love his letter. It seems to me that he knew he would not survive the impending battle, and he desperately wanted his wife to know how much he loved both her and his country. His letter is a poignant reminder that war separates loved ones and that sometimes the separation is permanent. Veterans Day is less than a week away; Thanksgiving and Christmas are not far behind. Many Americans will spend the holidays far from their families and in harm's way. Let's not forget to pray daily for our military and their loved ones.

A week before the battle of Bull Run, Sullivan Ballou, a Major in the Second Rhode Island Volunteers, wrote home to his wife in Smithfield.

July 14,1861

Camp Clark, Washington DC

Dear Sarah:

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days -- perhaps tomorrow. And lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I am no more.

I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in, the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing -- perfectly willing -- to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this government, and to pay that debt.

Sarah, my love for you is deathless. It seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but omnipotence can break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly with all those chains to the battlefield. The memory of all the blissful moments I have enjoyed with you come crowding over me, and I feel most deeply grateful to God and you, that I have enjoyed them for so long. And how hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes and future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and see our boys grown up to honorable manhood around us.

If I do not return, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I loved you, nor that when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name. Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless, how foolish I have sometimes been! But oh, Sarah, if the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they love, I shall always be with you, in the brightest day and in the darkest night ... always ... always. And when the soft breeze fans your cheek, it shall be my breath, or the cool air your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for me, for we shall meet again.

Sullivan Ballou was killed a week later at the First Battle of Bull Run.

Update on Tuesday, November 6, 2007 at 12:36AM by Jennifer

Always ... But Not Usually

I always plan to get stuff done long before it absolutely has to be done, but I usually don't end up doing it until the last minute. My daughter Erica and I were discussing this yesterday as we sat on opposite sides of my desk, "working." My project was to finish typing a transcript that's due the middle of next week. Hers was, of course, a never-ending loop of assignments for school. I operate on semi-tight deadlines and so does she. We discovered yesterday that she most likely inherited the procrastination gene from me, as we both have a tendency to work more efficiently when we are right "up against" a deadline rather than so far from it that there is no real urgency to complete the task. Speaking only for myself, I always want to get it done early and move on to something else, but the reality is that I am not usually able to prevail over the things that crowd in and distract me. Ergo, things generally get done at the final knell of the eleventh hour.

What was distracting me yesterday was the mere fact that Erica was home. She is always a very real part of our family and our lives, but since she has been away at college, she is not usually that much of a distraction. Yesterday morning I was at my desk, dutifully typing, but the whole time I was wondering where Erica was in the house and what she was doing. Eventually I went to find her, and we decided to make scrambled eggs and drink coffee together. So we did, and while we were doing that we watched part of an old movie. Then we began discussing clothes and makeup and assorted related topics, and there might have even been a little bitty bit of gossip thrown in there, and before I knew it an hour had gone by. "I need to get back to work," I said to Erica. I suggested that she bring her laptop to my office and work on her assignments there in the room with me, where I could see her.

I cleared off a space for her on my desk and she dragged a chair from the kitchen so she'd have something to sit in. She set up her machine and unplugged my cell phone charger so she could have power when her battery waned. I continued typing, but I was aware of her over there, pretending to work. She was not fooling me one bit. Next thing I knew, I was saying: "Hey Erica, have you seen the new Sweeney Todd trailers?" Her eyes got real big. "No," she said. She came around to my side of the desk and we watched the trailers a couple of times. She went back to her side and we "worked" for a while. I might have transcribed half a page of testimony before Javier scratched at the door, wanting to come in from outside. Erica got up to let him in. He was being cute, and for the next five to ten minutes we played with him and talked about him and just generally goofed off with him. "Hey Erica," I said. "Have you seen the Web site The Daily Puppy? "No," she said ... so she came around to my side of the desk again, and we looked at pictures of several adorable puppies before getting back to "work."

My husband was outside cleaning the pool. He came in. "Hey," he said. "Did David's phone ever work again after he washed it in the washing machine?" He was referring to our nephew, who visited with us recently. David had a spiffy new phone which he'd had to buy when he laundered his old one, effectively sending it down the drain. "No; why?" we asked my husband. "Because I just dropped mine in the pool," he said. Erica urged her dad to hie himself over to the phone store before it closed and get himself a new model, because once dropped in water, cell phones seldom recover. Although we are always free with our advice, he does not usually heed it, so we were pleasantly shocked when he immediately obeyed. We celebrated by listening to a few songs from our new Josh Groban Christmas CD, then got back to "work."

Need I tell you that neither Erica nor I got a great deal accomplished yesterday? But today we did! After church and Sunday dinner we went to the mall, where we are always anxious to go but not usually able to ... at least not together. We looked at shoes, purses, jewelry, clothes, and makeup. We looked at the stuff we always want but are not usually able to buy. Tomorrow we'll spend the day together and Tuesday she'll go back to school. I'll watch her drive away, which always makes me wistful but which usually does not make me cry. There's always next time ... and it's not usually very far away.

Eureka! It's The Boo!

She's five feet, six inches tall, and a lot of that is legs -- quite shapely ones. She weighs 125 pounds. She's got long nut-brown hair that swings and shines and is the perfect complement to her large green eyes. She is soft-spoken and sweet but also practical and responsible. She's very smart but goes a little cloudy when it comes to common sense. You don't want to get her riled up. She goes by several aliases, including Hecka, Eureka, Boo, and The Little Boo, but technically speaking she is Erica, our third (and baby) daughter. She is a college senior home for a long weekend, and I'm a glad and happy mom. Today we went to Barnes & Noble and Wal-Mart ... B&N was for fun and WM was for grocery shopping, normally an onerous task that becomes fun with Erica along. She trotted around gathering stuff I sent her to fetch, and along the way I noticed the cart becoming heavy with the kinds of provisions necessary to dorm students: canned soup ... saltine crackers ... Little Debbies ... peanut butter ... macaroni and cheese. You know .. the staples.

Erica was born in the small hours of a Friday in late May, 1986. When she was three hours old I was trundled to a semi-private room that turned out to be private because I was the only one in it. This was before the days when everything from conception to kindergarten happens in the same room; I labored in a labor room, delivered in a delivery room, recovered in a recovery room, and spent my confinement in a regular hospital room. In those few hours after Erica's birth I had been allowed to hold her for only a few minutes. Since I barely knew her, I was delighted when the nurses, upon getting me situated in my temporary digs, asked if I'd like to spend some time with my baby. I was tired but eager, and they brought Erica to me.

Erica's eight-pound, five-ounce infant form was swaddled in a receiving blanket and she was sporting a pink-and-white hat that looked as though it had been fashioned from a Handi-Wipe. I was semi-reclining in the hospital bed and the only illumination was from a canister spotlight in the ceiling. When the nurse, having fussed over us for a few minutes, finally left us alone, I grasped baby Erica under her tiny arms and "sat" her on my lap, facing me. And I looked into her eyes, and she looked into mine, and we fell in love. I can still see the look in her little watery dark-blue newborn eyes that morning. She stared at me and for all the world it was as though she was trying to say: "I promise I won't be any trouble." And she never has been, because she's never had time to ... she's been too busy being a joy.

Since Erica and I are both die-hard Grobanites, we were thrilled today when we saw Josh's Christmas CD, Noel, released only three weeks ago, on prominent display at Barnes & Noble. We bought it and played it real loud on the way home, although it's barely November and the sunroof was open to a sunny 70-degree day. By the way if you were going to buy a new Christmas album this year, let me encourage you to consider this one! Like everything Josh does, it's great. There's a link to it in this blog's sidebar.

One last thing ... if you like apple pie, you should try a Plush Pippin Ultimate Deep Dish Apple Pie, found in the frozen food case at Wal-Mart. Cost: a mere $2.68. While it's baking you'll be dying to taste it, and when you taste it you'll swear your grandmother stood by the sink all day, peeling and slicing apples and making homemade pie crust. It's that good. Erica and I bought one of those today too. We're going for a walk in a few minutes, and then we plan to make a pot of coffee and have our pie, piled up in my bed with Javier (who'll be keeping a weather eye for dropped crumbs), listening to our Josh Groban Christmas CD. When we're done we may have to watch at least part of a pirate movie.

The Little Boo ... Mom ... apple pie ... Javier ... Josh ... Johnny ... Eureka! That's sweet.