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Some Housekeeping Stuff (Blog, not my actual house)

Hi Everyone,

In the interest of full-disclosure I would like to let you know that I’ve signed up to be an Amazon Affiliate.

I signed up because I think this could be a mutual benefit type of situation.  I already do a lot of book reviews, and a seasonal reading list several times a year.  Adding a few links to those posts will allow you to see immediately which books I’m talking about and get them if you want them.  No ambiguity.  If you don’t want them, I’ll be sure to keep links inconspicuous enough to ignore.

I will, of course, mention that links are Affiliate links on all the entries that I do.  I just also didn’t want to be one of those kids who tries to slip it in under the radar with nothing but a disclaimer in TINY text at the bottom.  I promise to keep my promise to all my followers to love you forever and never post spam.

This has been a housekeeping blog entry.  You may now return to your regularly scheduled weekend.  My regularly scheduled weekend has book t-shirts in it, in case you were wondering.  🙂

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Book Reviews: Madeline L’Engle’s Austin Family Books

Austin Family Books

When I was a teenager, I pretty much fell in love with “A Ring of Endless Light” by Madeline L’Engle.  I read it a thousand times, until I knew passages off by heart.  Vicky felt like I would have about things, and the summer on the beach in a grandfather’s house was so similar to my own experience, despite the sadness and death.  The poem her grandfather has on the wall of their attic bunk space still holds so much, even though I’m older.  I think it’s nondenominational.  After all, isn’t this also just meditation?

If thou couldst empty all thy self of self

Like to a shell dishabited

Then might He find thee on the ocean shelf

And say this is not dead

And fill thee with Himself instead

But thou art so replete with very thou

And has such shrewd activity

That He will say this is enou’ unto itself

T’were better let it be

It is so small and full there is no room for me

I knew there were others of the series, but I grew up in the dark ages before there were e-readers.  If it wasn’t in stock at Borders, or the school book fair, I wasn’t likely to be able to get ahold of it.  So I loved the fourth book and didn’t worry too much about the others.

Fast forward, and I found that I can get them now!!  All five of them!  So I had a little binge reading.  While I don’t think that any of the books really stands up to “A Ring of Endless Light,” they were mostly enjoyable.  I’m glad I read them.  Breakdown of the books is below.

Meet the Austins:

There wasn’t really anything in this book that seemed profound, but it was a lovely universe .  It was as if Anne of Green Gables or Little Women had moved to the fifties, with all the lamentations of growing up included.  You end up rooting for Aunt Elena and Uncle Douglas to get together, for terrible Maggie to get to stay, and for Dad to get to eat dinner just once.  I enjoyed it.  Especially the nights under the stars and the Muffins picnic.  In a way, this is the best of what the Austins have to offer – real life introspectively.  It’s from Vicky’s 12 year old perspective, so it’s not terribly deep.  But it’s nice.

The Moon By Night:

Dad has taken a job at a research hospital in New York City, so to bridge the time the family goes on a cross-country road trip while camping along the way.  I mostly really loved this book.  The family dynamic feels more real than in “Meet the Austins,” and it’s sort of fun to see the boys all react to Vicky and have her be sought out.  I didn’t like Zachary, though.  He’s a huge part of the book, and I don’t know why Vicky doesn’t see that his desire to scare her isn’t desirable.  Or, I mean, I sort of understand it.  Because when you’re fourteen it’s nice to be noticed by a boy and that sort of overshadows the fact that the boy himself may not be that nice.  But I didn’t find it any less annoying.

Another big thing that bothered me was the earthquake that happens in the last part of the novel.  I had to read the passage again and again to make sure that it happened, and it wasn’t something I misread or something out of a dream.  It felt so unreal, just as Zachary’s protestations that he would become good were.  Perhaps it’s because I had already read book 4 so I knew he doesn’t, but it all seemed a little surreal.

I liked the book over all, though.  There is something about being with the Austin family that makes the other things seem worth it.  I was worried at this point, though, that the rest of the books were of this superficial quality and that “A Ring of Endless Light” wouldn’t hold up to my memory of it.

The Young Unicorns:

This book assuaged my worries about the rest of the series.  It was GOOD.  A little bit too unlikely thriller, but still good.  I liked how the whole premise of the thing rested on how no one was willing to share information with each other because they wanted to protect the others.  I also think that Emily’s blindness was handled really well.  She’s super-capable despite.  In fact, she saves the day, and that’s nice to see portrayed.

There were two things I had trouble with.  Okay, well, three… but the first was that the family didn’t seem its usual close entity in New York.  I think that’s probably by design, so I’m not sure it counts.  I still missed it since that’s what I loved so much about the first two novels.  Number two was that the plot line was so unlikely, it was like something out of a fantasy.  I know… it’s Madeline L’Engle so what was I expecting?  But the Austins live in an otherwise normal universe, so it felt like the crisis must have some element of normality about it.  It didn’t.  The last thing was that, after being in Vicky’s head for the other two novels, this one jumps around in perspective quite a lot.  It took me a bit to fall into the rhythm of it, although I got there eventually.

Still, the writing became so much more mature than the other two, and I couldn’t put it down.  An A+.

A Ring of Endless Light:

Oh the best book of this series by far.  It held up to my expectations of it, and more.  I was still annoyed by Zachary, but this time I think I was supposed to be.  And I could understand more why Vicky might agree to spend time with him despite his crazy.  I would really like to sit down with this thing and ferret out what L’Engle’s doing and why with all the death metaphors, and see if the structure is something I can learn from.  It’s so complex, in a way that feels real.  The only thing that doesn’t feel likely is Vicky’s easy telepathy with the dolphins and her ability to use it also with Adam.  But dolphins are a little otherworldly anyway, and her abilities with Adam create some very intimate moments between the two of them that I thrilled at.  Reading the rest of the series made the story all deeper somehow, and I didn’t think that was possible.  But I felt echoes of the previous books in the images in this one.

I spent a lot of time in my grandfather’s beach house when I was growing up, piled into tiny spaces with my family and loving every minute of it.  This book feels just like that did, where you know you are home and safe, but there really isn’t any home or safe anymore and you know that too.  Although none of the things happened to me that happen to Vicky, she is still 16-year-old-me’s patronus…

I’m so glad it held up.  I will treasure this book forever.  It was a life-changer.

Troubling A Star:

I don’t know what to say about this book, because I felt so betrayed at the end of it.  But I don’t think it was a bad novel.  I just think I was expecting other things from it.  And I believe that L’Engle set me up to expect other things for it.  Although maybe I’m being over dramatic because what I thought was going to happen didn’t.  It’s so hard to know.   It’s very like “The Young Unicorns” in spirit, so if you liked that one you might like this as well.

The book was well written and suspenseful.  It’s another crime drama, and it revolves around Adam’s Aunt Serena who gifts Vicky a trip to Antarctica to visit Adam during his internship.  It starts with that gimmick where the main character (Vicky) is  in peril (stuck on an iceberg and probably dying,) and then you get the rest of the book to discover how it happened.  I thought the continuing story of her saga on the iceberg kept suspense through the novel well, but I don’t think that the suspense ultimately paid off.  The ending just wasn’t big enough for all the nail-biting that preceded it.  No one is very certain what’s going on, it could be drugs, or it could be nuclear waste, or… but it looks like Adam’s in trouble, and therefore Vicky is too.

The thing is, the jacket description made me think it was going to be about Adam and Vicky figuring out their relationship.  I was looking forward to L’Engle saying something profound about the nature of romance, and that never materialized.  I also felt like Adam became a different person in this book.  He goes from being this man full of joy to being, well, not anything much at all.  It’s revealed that he’s this rich kid with an Arctic Exploration heritage, and then he’s just gone for the rest of the novel.  Even the letters he sends Vicky aren’t him, they’re Shakespeare quotes.  There is no mention that any of the experiences they shared in “A Ring of Endless Light” have changed either of them, or that this telepathic bond they’ve created still holds.  That’s really what angered me, I think.  It’s like the events in the previous book, events that really changed me as a reader, didn’t matter to the characters in the book at all.  I felt betrayed.

But I can’t really hold my own disappointment against the book as a whole.  I would say it’s well written, and there are charming moments when the Arctic ice is so pretty, and there are seals and penguins galore.  It just didn’t do what I expected it to.  I shall try to forgive it.

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The Holidays

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I have been SO busy getting ready for the holidays. The tree is up (and smells amazing), and the kitten has not tried to climb the tree or ingest any of the ornaments. It’s a Christmas miracle. There is still so much to be done, of the baking, cooking, and wrapping varieties.

The oranges are ripe in Redlands. They are heavy and bright on the deep green trees in the orchard near our house. We don’t have orange trees in our own yard yet, but our neighbor has a branch that lops over our side of the fence with four orange orbs hanging off it. Most of the oranges that I have had from off trees are sour, but these are so juicy that sticky stuff runs down your arm and they are sweet, sweet. Note to self: plant orange trees in yard ASAP.

I raided my mother’s garage for excess furniture. One of the (many) pieces she gave me was a bunged up, vaguely tortoise-shell mirror. I cleaned it up and painted the frame a bright crimson. It looks so good on that light blue wall in the living room above the fireplace. She also gave me her coffee table. The décor is so classy in the house that I’m not sure Brian and I can live there. We’re not nearly polished enough.

In the shuffle of stuff to finish before it All Happens, it’s easy to forget to wish everyone a happy holidays. Yes, happy holidays. Because what if I also want you to have a happy New Year, Boxing Day, Festivus, and Kwanza (Hanukkah is over at this point, isn’t it?). The more holidays the better, I always say. I hope yours are filled with joy and with people who spoil you rotten.

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Accepted

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These are thank you flowers.

I have posted it most places by now: a short story of mine, titled “The Wages of Sin,” will appear next month in the Dapper Press Lounge.  These guys are just starting out, and the lounge is a secret game where you have to find the entrance, request the password, and then solemnly promise never to reveal it.  There are mustaches galore.  Everything about it makes me grin, and not just the fact that they’ve taken my story.  It feels like I get to make art and play in the clubhouse, both.

They asked me for links to my website, my Twitter, and my Facebook author page.  The other two are robust enough, and well established.  But Facebook author page?  I had not built myself one because it seemed like an impertinence; and now I needed one.  In the space of 24 hours, friends and family answered the call to give me 93 “likes.” I know it’s just the click of the button, but it means so much more to the small gal on the other side of that page (that’s me).  It means that you all care more than imagined possible.  You make me look legit.  Have I told you how much I love you yet?

I shall post links when I have definitive dates and things are up and peruseable.  Then you can play in the clubhouse, too.  I’m proud of this story (although it’s PG-13, family.  You’ve been warned).

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Happy New Year

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I had meant to write a blog post filled with optimism.  “It’s a new year with no mistakes in it yet,” I wrote for the first sentence.  I was asking for it, loud and clear.  So far, this year has been riddled with mistakes.

We celebrated the new year at a friend’s house, playing Cards Against Humanity while we ignored Ferris Beuler’s Day Off playing in the background, lounging and laughing.  “Happy New Year!” we all yelled as we watched the ball drop in Times Square on the television.  I leaned in toward Brian for the traditional kiss.  I took a step closer.  I squished his bare toes with my sharp pointy flats.

“Ouch,” he said.

“Sorry,” I replied.

At that point, the new year was 50% mistake.

Brian and I thought we would like an adventure on our last day off, so we bundled ourselves in the car and went to LACMA.  I specifically checked the website for holiday hours.  It said they would be closed on the 31st, but it didn’t say anything about New Year’s Day.  In my quest for holiday hours, I missed the gigantic banner at the top that said “closed Wednesdays.”  I found it in all its bright, pixilated glory when we returned home.  The empty parking structure should have tipped me off, but it wasn’t until the security guard at the entrance stopped us that I realized.

“Is the Tar Pits open?” I asked.  Plan B

“Maybe, I don’t know,” he said.  “You can check.”

So we checked.  It wasn’t.

The LA Farmer’s Market (oldest farmer’s market in the US, they proudly proclaim) is a few blocks away.  We walked there, and they were open.  We had blueberry pie at a diner that was the best I’ve ever had – buttery crust and berries that burst as I chewed amid the sweet, dark filling.  I bought a teapot and some loose-leaf Imperial Earl Gray at one of the shops.  Not the regular kind, the Imperial kind.  And then we walked back to the car, drove home, and fell into bed.

This morning I packed a lunch in a large Trader Joe’s bag, brown paper with convenient handles.  It was a tasty one.  Fusilli pasta in basil with fresh cherry tomatoes, popcorn, and a Honey Crisp apple.  Dried cocoanut strips as a snack.  I got to work and realized that it’s still on the floor of my living room.  Evidently, I’ll be buying lunch today.  I have little hope that cats won’t eat all the popcorn before I can get home tonight.  Sigh.

In short, this year has been nothing but mistakes so far.  I suppose that’s what I get for writing that fate-tempting sentence.  There is something so tantalizing about the promise of the new year, though.  The unflinching optimism that this year, surely, will be better than the one that just passed.  Maybe it will even be the best one yet.  The evidence might be for the contrary and still I persist in thinking I can make better the reality; when the reality is, who knows?

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Things I Learned This Week:

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An inordinate number of composers have the first name “Richard.”

Being 10,000 words behind is not as hopeless as it seems, especially when you have a husband willing to go on writing dates in the quiet Law Library

If you bring your umbrella to work it won’t rain.  When you look at the sunny sky in the morning and decide to leave your umbrella at home there will be a downpour.

Hugging world-famous opera stars is fun.  In related news, my new job is REALLY great.

Even husbands don’t like it when the girl pays for dinner.

“You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch” on the ukulele isn’t as hard as it first looked.

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Yakuza!

I was in need of Ninja Assassins for a class assignment.  I can’t explain, you’ll just have to trust me.   Just kidding, the Ninja’s made me say that.  I really can explain, and here it is:

A man trips while getting off a bus, a woman smiles, less than 250 words, unconventional format.  Those were the rules my professor gave me.  Unconventional format? Definitely Savage Worlds module.  Also, Savage Worlds always equals Ninja Assassins.  It is a given.  Now I just had to work the bus in there.

Ninja Assassins don’t hang out at bus stops, Brian told me when I read him my module.  You don’t need Ninja Assassins, you need Japanese Gangsters with mad martial arts skills.  And maybe with machine guns.  A quick Wikipedia search later, he found The Triad.  In Japan, they called themselves the Yakuza.  Actual historical Japanese gangsters with martial arts skills and machine guns? Sold!  I have history on my side now, too.

Yakuza?  I said.  Bless you.

Knock Knock, said Brian. Who’s there? Yakuza. Yakuza who? Yakuza guy for asking, but would you like to get a drink some time?

I laughed for way longer than decency allowed.

We’re probably terrible people.  Also, why is actual history so much better than anything I could dream up myself?

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George Veditz and the National Association for the Deaf Films

            In 1880 in Milan, Italy, the International Congress on Education for the Deaf voted to ban the use of sign language in Deaf[1] schools. [2]  Spurred by the rhetoric of Alexander Graham Bell, known to most Americans as the inventor of the telephone, American Deaf schools flocked to comply with the Milan Conference’s decision.  In return, a movement was spawned by Deaf community leaders advocating sign language instruction, fiercely hanging onto the culture they had fought so hard to create.  Still, it looked as if the Deaf were losing this fight as Alexander Graham Bell, a follower of eugenics, tried to convince everyone that the Deaf were forming their own separate race.  Even those who didn’t subscribe to eugenics “demanded the elimination of sign language, believing that it undermined English language acquisition and promoted deaf separatism.” [3]  In the end, deaf people would have to live in a hearing world, they argued, and they should have the skills to deal with that fact. Science has since proved what Deaf people knew all along, that this theory does not work in practicality.  Keeping sign language away from deaf people keeps all language away from deaf people, and can be harmful to cognitive development.[4]  Still, it looked as if sign might become extinct in the near future.

This is the climate in which the National Association of the Deaf, under President George Veditz, decided to make several films for the preservation of Sign Language.  “The N.A.D… has collected a fund of $5,000, called the Moving Picture Fund.” Veditz wrote, “…I am sorry that it is not $20,000.”[5]  With such a limited budget, Veditz and the NAD Board had to decide carefully which signers they would film and what subjects they would cover.  Ultimately, the films they chose to make tended to center on Deaf history, American patriotism, and religion[6].  Eighteen films were made in all, from the years 1913-1920, but only fourteen of these survived to the modern age.[7]  This was due in large part to their heavy use by the Deaf community, and the poorly trained film operators responsible for winding the machines.

The films were made by pointing a static camera at the signers and having them lecture to it.  Often, small amounts of scenery such as vases and curtains were placed in the background for visual effect.  Because of the black and white picture and the poor resolution of the film, signers had to make sure they produced their signs large and signed slowly so everyone could see them.  After a few mistakes, most notably the film showing Edward Minter Gallaudet’s lecture – a retelling of Lorna Doone – filmmakers were also careful to place the lecturers on plain, dark backgrounds so their hands would show up easily.[8]  These films compared favorably with other films of the time in technical skill and appearance.

Once the films were completed, they were circulated throughout the United States to local Deaf Clubs.  These clubs would often couple the film screening with live entertainment, making each screening a huge event in the local Deaf community.  Large groups of signers would congregate in the hall downtown to see the films.  Sometimes, requests were made for the NAD to send transcripts of the films that could be read for any hearing visitors in the audience.  Although Veditz’s film, featuring his impassioned plea for sign language is the best known today, it was E.M. Gallaudet’s film that was most requested when the films were released, despite the difficult background of his film.[9]  This was probably due to the popularity of E.M. Gallaudet’s father, Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet.  T.H. Gallaudet had been instrumental in forming the first school for the Deaf, in Hartford, Connecticut.

Although the films had a major impact on the Deaf community when they were first produced, scholarship on them has been spotty at best.  Many books cover the topic, but devote no more than a few pages to the exploration of the history of these films.  Some give no more than a brief mention to Veditz’s films as being the precursor to modern Sign Language recording and leave it at that.  This paper attempts to explore in greater detail not only the motives behind George Veditz’s creation of these films, and how these films influenced deaf culture as a whole, but also why the topic hasn’t been better covered by Deaf Historians.

Veditz’s Motives:

Carol Padden is perhaps the foremost authority on Veditz and the NAD films.  She was also the first to cover the topic in a book co-written with her husband, Tom Humphries, entitled Deaf In America: Voices From A Culture, published in 1988[10].  At 121 pages, the book itself is slim, but large chunks of it are devoted to Veditz and the importance of the films he engineered.  Padden and Humphries claim that Veditz’s film, The Preservation of the Sign Language, is a clear example of how panicked the Deaf community was at this time that their language would disappear.  Veditz’s strong rhetoric about the need for Deaf people to “love and guard our beautiful sign language”[11] and his claim that European Deaf populations “look upon us Americans as a jailed man chained at the ankles might look upon a man free to wander at will”[12] are examples of the need for activism that the whole community felt, Padden and Humphries tell us.

Around the construction of these movies arose a debate about Sign Language itself, say Padden and Humphries.  Did it have a proper structure?  How were Deaf people defining that structure?  Was the grammar of the language itself more important than making oneself understood to others?  Veditz certainly advocated that there was a correct grammar and style to Sign Language.  Together with the Deaf newspaper The Silent Worker, Veditz tried to communicate what he considered to be the ideal version of sign.  Veditz and The Silent Worker claimed that proper sign moved fluidly from one word to the next and didn’t cause eye strain for the people watching it.  Veditz also advocated for using no facial expression at all while signing, a practice that is completely contrary to current views on proper American Sign Language.  Although the language used by Veditz and other signers in these films is dated, by applying modern understanding of Sign Language grammar to Veditz’s and The Silent Worker’s claims about correct sign, we begin to see what they mean.  Grammatically incorrect sign looked choppy and was difficult to understand.  This was all the more reason Veditz felt he needed to preserve examples of “perfect” sign for generations to emulate, eliminating the “gyrations” of uneducated signers.

Padden and Humphries also focus on Veditz’s penchant for valuing hearing people over Deaf.  Veditz claims that it is from the hearing T. H. Gallaudet, the sponsor of deaf education in America, that Gallaudet’s son learned such beautiful sign, completely leaving out the influence Gallaudet’s Deaf wife must have had on the boy.  As a native signer, her language skills were undoubtedly superior to that of Gallaudet’s, who had learned to sign in his later years.[13]  Veditz seems to imply by these claims that it is through hearing advocates that sign will be able to endure, and that the contributions of hearing members of the deaf community are of a higher status than those of the deaf themselves.

In his 1988 book Hollywood Speaks,[14] John S. Schuchman agrees with Padden and Humphries that Veditz clearly saw film as the ideal medium for the recording of Sign.  By filming their work, Deaf people would no longer need to rely on inaccurate writing to represent their signs.  A regular 35mm camera would be able to record sign for subsequent generations like nothing else.  This catapulted Deaf Culture from being an “oral” society to a culture in which static written texts could be preserved accurately.  Schuchuman claims that Veditz saw the benefits of this leap forward when he spearheaded the films.

In their book 1989, A Place of Their Own[15], John Vickrey Van Cleve and Barry A. Crouch also agree with aspects of Padden’s and Humphries’ claim about Veditz’s Motives: illustrating the panic the Deaf community felt. Because the Oralist Movement was stronger in Europe than it was in America, Veditz had already seen the degradation of Deaf Schools in Europe and felt that European Sign Language had degraded as a result.  He felt that European signers were now using an impure form of their language, full of gyrations and strange facial expressions.  Veditz attributed the decline of European sign to the lack of formal schooling.  Veditz felt the NAD films would provide future generations instruction in the language if traditional classes disappeared.  That is why Veditz was so eager to help America avoid the fate Europeans had suffered.  He felt that by picking eighteen of the greatest masters of American Sign Language and preserving their dialect, he would be preserving sign in its true form.

Some historians have been less than flattering in their analysis of Veditz’s motives.  Susan Burch, in her 2002 book Signs of Resistance: American Deaf Cultural History 1900-WWII, claims that Veditz was also trying to “raise a new generation of signing elite”[16] with his films.  Veditz and the board of the NAD were trying to “legitimize their participation and their place in society”[17] by putting forth their picture of an ideal deaf citizen.  Unfortunately, this picture was comprised mostly of older, white men.  Out of all 18 films, only one features a woman, and none feature signers of non-white races.  The deaf picture of who was an ideal American deaf citizen did not extend very far, Burch argues.

Padden again touched on the issue of Veditz’s film in her 2005 article Translating Veditz.[18]  In this article, she focuses more on the language Veditz used to create a spirit of activism.  Using strong rhetoric to create opposing sides between those who are actively trying to eradicate Sign with malicious intent and the Deaf people trying desperately to protect it, Veditz is not mincing words.  As strong a picture as Veditz paints in his sign version of this speech, Padden compares it to a written translation Veditz made about a year after the film was circulated.  In this written version, Veditz pumps up the rhetoric even more, making the position of “us against them” extra inflammatory.  Comparing Oralists to the “Pharaohs who knew not Joseph”[19] in the signed version of his speech, Veditz adds into the written version that Deaf children “were being sacrificed by ‘the oral Moloch that destroys the mind and soul of the deaf.’”[20]   Perhaps this change in rhetoric is because he felt opinion toward sign in America had deteriorated even further.

Later, in Padden’s and Humphries’ 2005 book Inside Deaf Culture, they expand upon Veditz’s relationship with English and print.  Veditz had a long history of employment in the printing industry, ultimately owning his own magazine.  After his death, colleagues of Veditz’ remembered his “vitriolic pen,” often employed in championing sign language and deaf culture.  Veditz’s familiarity with English can also be seen in his film.  He fingerspells many words and is very clear about his meaning.  Padden and Humphries show how most translations of the film differ only slightly from each other, further illustrating Veditz’s command of the English language as well as his mastery of sign.

Influence on Deaf Culture:

Historians claim that these films have had a wide influence on Deaf culture in general.  In the 2002 book, Signing the Body Poetic[21], a collection of essays on Deaf Literature, H. Dirksen, L. Bauman, Jennifer L. Nelson, and Heidi M. Rose tell us that the invention of film acted like a printing press for Deaf people.  Much like moveable type did for Hearing people, the invention of film allowed Deaf people to enjoy entertainment from inside their homes.  Dirksen et al tells us that the Veditz films were the precursor to this, setting up the cultural tendency to adapt new technology.  These films essentially opened the floodgates to other films in Sign Language by showing Deaf people how wonderful a medium it was for their language.  Today, American Sign Language DVDs comprise the highest number of products sold by Deaf publishing companies.

Dirksen et al also claim that the wide variety of Sign entertainment that became available spelled the downfall for Deaf Clubs.  They argue that the need for people to meet and interact socially in an environment outside their home has ended.  Instead, they can experience this kind of entertainment in the privacy of their own homes, just by turning on the Television.  Dirksen et al argue that it was Veditz’s films that ultimately sped up the decay of the strong Deaf community in America.

In a 2005 article in the PMLA Journal[22], Padden explores the ineffectiveness of Veditz’s crusade.  He was unable to stop, or even hinder, the Oralist spirit sweeping across America.  This may be because of his argument style, claims Padden.  She compares Veditz’s highly religious and emotional argument to the reasoned scientific arguments that were taking place in hearing America at the same time.  Appearing only in Sign Language and using an outdated argumentation style, Padden claims that Veditz’s argument was brushed aside by the few hearing people who were paying attention as old fashioned and uneducated.  Padden claims that this is partially the reason for its ineffectiveness in stemming the tide of Oral-only education sweeping through Deaf schools.  If the purpose of these films was to preserve sign language and Deaf culture, they did not seem to be working.

In another book written this same year,[23] Padden and Humphries again explore the NAD films, building on the above idea by exploring the issue of Deaf “Voice”.  Padden and Humphries claim that these films were an attempt to create a place where Deaf people could be heard on their own terms, setting the standard for similar efforts in the future.  In addition to this, the deaf voice present in the NAD films is one that still resonates with Deaf audiences today.  Padden and Humphries show how Veditz’s rallying cry has transcended generations, as deaf people today try to explain the importance of sign language and Deaf culture in a world where rapid scientific advancement may be eradicating deafness.

Lastly, American Sign Language linguist Ted Supalla has used these films for an entirely different reason than others before him: to chart the evolution of ASL from its origins in French Sign Language to the present day.  Supalla shows in his 2010 article in Deaf Studies Digital Journal[24] how ASL linguists can break through the “folk etymology” of where signs originally came from, and chart their true origins.  Studying films such as the NAD films, he argues, can provide valuable clues to where and how these signs originated.   For instance, many Deaf people will explain that the sign language word for “no good” (made with the hand in an L shape, flipping away from the body) derives from the fact that when something is no good, you throw it away.  By studying the NAD films, however, we can see that signers in the early 1900’s make the sign by fingerspelling the letters N and G.  We can then surmise that the origin of the modern sign is not the action of throwing something, but of fingerspelling that has changed over time.   Because there is such a large body of work that survives in this collection, the NAD films have been invaluable to ASL linguists such as himself, claims Supalla.

Lack of Scholarship:

The study of Deaf History is a relatively new field.  Van Cleve and Crouch, in the book A Place of Their Own, speak to this issue in the preface, although they do not speculate as to why.  Instead, they relate their own experiences at Gallaudet University, the premier institute for the Deaf, during the 1980s.  Gallaudet University was interested in offering a deaf history class to their students, but could not find a textbook to use. It seemed as if none existed.  A Place of Their Own was written to fill that gap, they relate.

Martin Atherton, Dave Russell, and Graham Turner take up the issue in depth of why there has not been more study of Deaf history in their article Looking To The Past: The Roll of Oral History Research in Recording the Visual History of Britain’s Deaf Community.[25]  Although these men are ultimately looking at British Deaf History, they use much American scholarship to prove their thesis, such as Harlan Lane’s When The Mind Hears.  Also, many of the statements they make about Deaf language acquisition are not exclusive to a particular country.

Atherton, Russell, and Turner cite Harlan Lane’s 1980 work When the Mind Hears, as being the first real work on Deaf history.  Covering the ordinary Deaf experience in the eighteenth century and before, and showing the road to the establishment of the American School for the Deaf in Hartford, Connecticut,[26] this was the first time that the deaf experience itself had been central to the main arguments of the book. Before this, deaf history focused solely on those who worked with the deaf or were leaders of deaf advocacy groups.  Even when ordinary deaf people are represented in older works, they receive much less attention than the hearing people working with them.  Essentially, Deaf history was being written by hearing people for hearing people.

English proficiency is another huge problem for historians of the Deaf, Atherton, Russell, and Turner claim.  “English – both spoken and written – can pose many difficulties for profoundly deaf people, as for many it is not their first or preferred language.”[27]  This means that primary source material is hard to obtain.  The main body of primary source material that does exist is often from Deaf print media which almost always relies on voluntary contributions and does not employ staff writers.  The articles presented in these publications deal almost exclusively with topics of religion, education, and sport.  What little primary source material about daily life there is has often been poorly preserved.  Atherton, Russell, and Turner cite film as being the ideal medium to preserve deaf history in the future, as it can transcend the barrier of poor English skills and inaccurate systems of writing for sign language.

Padden and Humphries also note in their 2005 book Inside Deaf Culture that the NAD films did not resurface until the 1970’s, when they were remembered and unearthed from the Gallaudet University archives.[28]  Even if creating Deaf history was common, scholarship would not have existed on these particular films until this time.

In Conclusion:

“The window into the history of American Sign Language through these films is, fortunately for us, a wide one”[29] says Padden.  Still, the scholarship that exists on this issue barely begins to explore the impact NAD films have had on American history in general.  Putting the evidence together, the things others have said about the films, I believe that the NAD was filling an important cultural need, and providing a basis for Deaf empowerment that did not exist before.  In the struggle for the community to make its voice heard and define its own destiny in the Oralist vs Manualist fight, the community had always relied on sympathetic hearing people to make their case for them.  The Motion Picture Committee films mark an effort, not just to preserve Sign Language, but also to make Deaf people feel proud of their culture and their heritage.  By empowering Deaf people, these films also encouraged them to find their own voice and try to actively control their own destiny by standing up for the language at the heart of their community.

 


[1] The deaf community uses the term “Deaf” with a capital D to denote the segment of deaf people who consider themselves culturally deaf.  This separates them from other groups such as the elderly, who may experience total hearing loss, but hardly identify with the Deaf as a community.  I feel it is important to make this designation in the language Deaf people use about themselves, and have continued this practice throughout the paper.

[2] Daniel Eagan, America’s Film Legacy, (The Continuum Publishing Group: New York, 2012), Page 11

[3] Signs of Resistance, Page 3

[4] Oliver Sacks, Seeing Voices: A Journey Into the World of the Deaf, (University of California Press: Berkley, 1990), Page 54

[5] Eagan, America’s Film Legacy, Page 11

[6] Susan Burch, Signs of Resistance: American Deaf Cultural History 1900-WWII, (New York University Press: New York, 2002), Page 58

[7] Carol Padden and Tom Humphries, Inside Deaf Culture, (Harvard University Press: Massachusetts, 2005), Page 58

[8] Padden and Humphries, Inside Deaf Culture, Page 63

[9] Padden and Humphries, inside Deaf Culture, (Harvard University Press: Massachusetts, 2005), Page 63

[10] Carol Padden and Tom Humphries, Deaf In America: Voices From A Culture, (Harvard University Press: Massachusetts, 1988)

[11] Carol Padden and Tom Humphries, Deaf In America, Page 36

[12] Carol Padden and Tom Humphries, Deaf In America, Page 34

[13] Carol Padden and Tom Humphries, Deaf In America, Page 57

[14] John S. Schuchman, Hollywood Speaks: Deafness and the Film Entertainment Industry, (University of Illinois, 1988)

[15] John V. Van Cleve and Barry A. Crouch, A Place of Their Own, (Gallaudet University Press: Washington DC, 1989)

[16] Susan Burch, Signs of Resistance, Page 57

[17] Susan Burch, Signs of Resistance, Page 59

[18] Carol Padden, “Translating Veditz”, The Muse Project (2005), http://communication.ucsd.edu/padden/Translating%20Veditz.pdf

[19] Carol Padden, “Translating Veditz”, Page 247

[20] Carol Padden, “Translating Veditz”, Page 247

[21] H. Dirksen et al, Signing the Body Poetic: Essays on American Sign Language Literature, (University of California Press: Berkley, 2002)

[22] Carol Padden, “Talking Culture: Deaf People and Disability Studies”, Publications of the Modern Language Association (PMLA) Volume 120, 508-513, 2005

[23] Carol Padden and Tom Humphries, Inside Deaf Culture

[24] Ted Supalla, “History: Using Etymology to Link ASL to LSF,” Deaf Studies Digital Journal Issue 2, 2010, http://dsdj.gallaudet.edu/index.php?issue=3&section_id=9&entry_id=87

[25] Martin Atherton, Dave Russell, and Graham Turner, “Looking To The Past: The Roll of Oral History Research in Recording the Visual History of Britain’s Deaf Community”, Oral History Volume 29, No. 2, Autumn 2001

[26] Harlan Lane, When The Mind Hears, (Random House: New York, 1980)

[27] Atherton, Russell and Turner, Oral History, page 38

[28] Padden and Humphries, Inside Deaf Culture, Page 62

[29] Padden and Humphries, Inside Deaf Culture, Page 60

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Orientalism

On the 11th of September, 2001, two planes piloted by Islamic extremists slammed into the World Trade Center buildings in New York.  Suddenly Americans cared about Islam, looking to Oriental scholars to explain what had happened to them.  Two of these scholars, Edward Said and Bernard Lewis, have been debating the subject of “Occident vs. Orient”[1] for decades and their opinions have shaped the post-9/11 debate in America.  Said’s and Lewis’ opinions of this matter differ greatly, however.  This paper will look at the fundamental differences in Said’s and Lewis’ arguments about Orientalism and their heated debates on the subject, while attempting to determine who is the more credible authority.

Said’s understanding of Islamic cultures is illustrated in his 1978 book Orientalism.  Although Said looks at Muslim attempts to Westernize just as Lewis does, his book is mostly focused on those who study Islamic countries.  Said believes that Western studies of Islam always show these communities from the lens of colonial bias, ultimately siding with imperialism.  Citing the myth of the “Mystic Orient”, Said shows how these stereotypes are used to subjugate the people in these countries by painting them as inferior.   “An assumption had been made,” Said writes, “that the Orient and everything in it was, if not patently inferior to, then in need of constructive study by the West.” [2]          

Lewis was one of the many to review Said’s book, and he was not complimentary.  Lewis argued against Said’s interpretation of the Arabic words “Tawhid” and “Thawra”, claimed that Said only used obscure scholarship to prove his point, and suggests that Said may have socialist sympathies.  Responses to each other’s arguments, full of vitriol, started to appear in The New York Review of Books.

In 2002, Lewis’ ultimate argument appeared in the press: his book What Went Wrong? The Clash Between Islam and Modernity in the Modern World.  As the title of the book implies, Lewis believes that Islam and Modernity do not mix.  In addition, Lewis claims that the reason Muslim countries are so far behind the West is because of their inherent inability to separate politics and religion.  Religion, he claims, has blinded Muslims into ignoring anything that is not bound to their faith, including Western advancements in science and technology.  Lewis claims that “it is precisely the lack of freedom…that underlies so many of the troubles of the Muslim world”.[3]

Perhaps this fundamental difference in belief is what makes the argument between these two scholars particularly venomous.  Essentially, Lewis is everything Said disdains: a Western-born scholar claiming Western superiority over Middle Eastern countries.  Still, Said goes too far when he writes “Lewis’ carelessness in reading English disqualifies him from argument well before we get to Arabic”[4] and “to Lewis, what he writes about ‘Islam’ is all so self-evident that it allows him to bypass normal conventions of intellectual discourse, including proof.”[5] Although Lewis certainly attacks Said’s theories, he wisely leaves the personal jibes at home, leaving him appearing on the surface like the more reasoned individual.

Although Lewis may look reasoned, his book does not hold water very well, especially his claim that freedom is necessary to achieve modernity.  For much of America’s rise to power, Americans enslaved or horribly repressed large populations of their people and were still able to join the global economy.  China is also a country that Westerners would never consider free, yet some estimate that China’s Gross Domestic Product may already be higher than that of the United States.[6]  Obviously, freedom is not a necessary to achieve prosperity.   Also, Lewis’ almost complete reliance on Turkish sources, applying them to the whole Middle East, is problematic.  Still, Lewis backs his claims, staunchly asserting that his theories are always right.  In addition to this, Lewis’ convictions have led him to advise former President Bush about Middle East foreign policy after the 9/11 attacks.  He is so sure his opinion is correct that he is willing to put whole countries on the line.

As a longtime advocate for Palestinian rights, Said is not unbiased himself and may be painting too harsh a picture of Oriental scholars.  In addition to this, Said’s theories have holes as well.  The most glaring of these is how he completely left out the opinions of German scholars in his efforts to examine European study of Islamic cultures, which he freely admits.   This penchant for admitting that his theories have holes is his most redeeming quality, however.  Unlike Lewis’ inability to admit that he may be wrong, Said has declined invitations to advise government officials, wondering “why indeed was there this extraordinary assumption that from my university office I had some special insight into the smoldering twin towers?”[7]  For this attitude, Said is to be applauded.  Ultimately it is Said’s willingness to entertain the criticism of others that makes him the more reliable authority.   In addition, Said has studied his topic more deeply than Lewis, not picking and choosing his data as it fit his thesis but honestly incorporating scholarship from a myriad of sources to support his claims. In Said’s introduction alone, he mentions the opinions of Disraeli, Stevens, Panikkar, Renan, Jones, Nerval, Flaubert, Gobineau, and Marcus, clearly showing his deep knowledge of the field of Orientalism in general.[8]

It is to be expected that this debate will go on.  As long as America is inconvenienced by her bad relationship with the Middle East, scholars will attempt to make sense of it and the Saids and Lewises will continue to disagree.   Although there are flaws to both of their arguments, ultimately Said is the more rational authority because of his wider coverage of the topic and his willingness to admit the imperfections of his work.  Hopefully, more attention will be paid to Said’s theories in the future.


[1] Edward W. Said, Orientalism, (Random House: New York, 1979), Page 5

[2] Edward W. Said, Orientalism, Page 41

[3] Bernard Lewis, What Went Wrong? The Clash Between Islam and Modernity in the Modern World, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), Kindle Edition, Locations 2483-90.

[4] Edward W. Said, “Orientalism: An Exchange”, The New York Review of Books, 12 August 1982, http://www.nybooks.com/articles/archives/1982/aug/12/orientalism-an-exchange/?pagination=false, (accessed 4 March 2012)

[5] Edward W. Said, Impossible Histories: Why the many Islams cannot be simplified, (Harper’s Magazine, July 2002), Page 71

[6] Tom Gjelten, “Is China’s Economy Already No. 1”, National Public Radio, 21 January, 2011, http://www.npr.org/2011/01/21/133100774/is-chinas-economy-already-no-1, (accessed 4 March 4, 2012)

[7] Edward W. Said, Impossible Histories, Page 69

[8] Edward W. Said, Orientalism, Pages 5-8

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Plimoth Colony

In the year 1620, a band of separatists packed themselves onto a tiny ship and traversed the ocean in hopes of attaining religious freedom.  These pilgrims were not the first Europeans to settle on the coast of the Americas, yet we celebrate their accomplishments much more than those of Jamestown, or other areas of Virginia.  Although the childhood story we learn of Pilgrims and Indians cooperating in peace was not as simple as we were told, the real story is just as interesting and perhaps even more inspiring.

A host of political reasons drove the colony from England, and finally to the new world.  They were not the first to traverse the wide sea, nor were they the first settlers on the continent.  Still, they were the first to create a permanent settlement in New England, and the first Englishmen to have friendly relationships with a native tribe.  They also pioneered a model religious community that was immensely important to the development of America as a whole.  Their very human mistakes along the way do nothing to detract from their ultimate successes.

Most of the Saints, as they called themselves, who settled Plymouth Colony were originally from the county around Scrooby, England.  Although Scrooby was not as small as many historians have claimed it was, the county was still a farming community with an agrarian way of life.  Many in this area were Puritans, believing that the church of England needed to be purified of its sinful catholic trappings.  Puritanism, although frowned upon, was tolerated in England.  As long as members were paying lip-service to the church and attending services every Sunday, they were largely left alone.  It was the Separatist sect of Puritanism, the sect that believed that the Church of England could never be purified and advocated separating from the church to form a new, that was considered toxic in English society.  When a small group of people, led by the minister John Robinson, stopped attending Sunday church services, they were instantly persecuted.  With its members constantly jailed, fined, and the community refusing to give them work, the group felt they needed to leave England.

The most logical place for them seemed to be Holland, a country known for its religious tolerance.  Slowly and secretly, the group began to sell their farms and immigrate to Holland.  Caling themselves the Saints, they eventually settled in the town of Leyden.  Leyden was nothing like the home they had left in England.  It was a highly industrialized city, famous for the manufacture of a fashionable lightweight wool called Say.  The Saints immediately sought jobs in the textile factories, but were never able to attain economic security.  They often worked incredibly long hours for little pay, and many of their children also worked long days in the factories alongside their parents.  Most families lived in hastily constructed, tiny tenements that were put up by the Dutch government. And then, the Spanish occupation of Leyden happened.  Not only was the specter of popish religion looming over their adopted country, but so was the threat of war.  It became clear that Holland was not the place for the Saints.

At first, the group looked into traveling to the new world on a charter from the Dutch government.  This was not their ideal situation.  Most of them still considered themselves Englishmen, and did not want to officially become a colony of a foreign government.  When it looked possible to attain a charter from England, the Saints jumped at the chance.  They would be able to keep their English heritage and still practice their religion.

In reality, the Saints never actually received an official charter to settle their colony.  They applied to the King with a settlement site in northern Virginia, and heard nothing.  Eventually, they assumed that no news was good news and proceeded with their plans, receiving funding from the newly formed Virginia Company.  This may seem like a significant jump in reasoning, but in reality it was not.  Separatism had been punished to the full extent of the law in England for decades.  When investors of the colony were not bothered, and members of the community who had been jailed were allowed to return to England for provisions, it looked as if the King was giving tactic permission while still saving face.  Their leader, John Robinson, declined to go with them, intending to join them later.  When the Saints set out, it was without a leader.

The deal these Saints made with the Virginia Company was quite simple, and did not favor the colonists at all.  Robert Cushman, the main negotiator for the saints, was too eager to make a deal.  He agreed to harsh provisions and signed all the papers before the rest of the group could weigh in.  The company would fund the Saint’s trip to the new world and pay for all the supplies they would need.  The Saints would pay back their debt by loading supply ships with saleable goods. Profit from all seven days of the week would belong to the Virginia Company.  Once the debt was paid, the Plymouth colony would be free to trade as they wished.  Until the debt was paid, everything they owned, including the houses they lived in, belonged to the Virginia Company and its investors.  Other colonies had been able to negotiate deals where the settlers owned their houses and property, and were able to work a few days of the week for their own personal profit.  Because of Cushman’s eagerness, this type of deal had not been possible for the Saints.

Edward Winslow, Robert Cushman, and Thomas Moore, the leader of the Virginia Company, were in charge of making all the preparations for the voyage.  They purchased a medium sized 3-masted ship called the Speedwell to take them to the new world from Holland, and hired a small 2-masted ship called the Mayflower to bring families from England who hadn’t been able to make their way to Leyden yet.  Along with these few Separatist families, the investors found several other non-separatists with useful skills to accompany the group on the Mayflower.  Some, like Miles Standish, had extensive military training.  Others had building or farming skills that would be useful to the colony, and still others were seeking to relocate their whole families.  The Saints referred to these people as “Strangers”.   The Saints planned to keep the Speedwell with them in the new world so they could travel up and down the coast and trade with others, reducing their debt faster, while the Mayflower would return to England.

In early July of 1620, both the Speedwell and the Mayflower set out from their individual ports, planning to rendezvous in Southampton, England before continuing together to the new world.  Unfortunately, the Speedwell began to leak badly, and the group waited 2 weeks for the ship to be repaired before setting off again.  Within a few hours of resuming their journey, the Speedwell was leaking again, and they had to pull into port for repairs a second time, and then a third.  It finally seemed as if the Speedwell was fixed when they left from Plymouth, England, in late August.  300 yards out to sea, it again started to take on water badly.  The demoralized group had no other choice but to turn around and land in Plymouth again.  They left Speedwell in Plymouth, and packed everyone they could into the Mayflower.  As the Mayflower was so much smaller than the Speedwell, they packed it well over capacity before several families, convinced that the voyage was cursed, decided to just go home.

Because the Mayflower had left so much later than originally planned, winter storms buffeted the small ship the entire way to the new world.  A voyage that could take as little as thirteen days took the pilgrims almost two months to complete.  At one point, storms were so violent as to crack the central support beam of the ship.  If the group had not been able to stabilize the beam with a winch they had brought to aid in building houses, they may never have seen the new world at all.  When the pilgrims reached the new world, they were not in northern Virginia, where they had told the King they would be settling, but in an entirely new landscape far north of their original destination.

The group did not know what to do.  At first, they tried to sail south, but they quickly ran into dangerous rapids.  In the snowy and icy landscapes they encountered, winter was obviously arriving quickly.  The group began to divide into factions.  The Saints were worried that by settling here, they would be accused of misleading the King, and that they would be accused of secession and sedition.  The Strangers didn’t care about this.  They had already made a failed attempt to sail south, and they felt the need to establish some kind of permanent settlement before the ground froze solid and it was impossible to build anything.  At first, it looked as if there would be a complete schism within the community.

This is where the Mayflower Compact comes in.  The Mayflower Compact is often cited as being the first democratic document of the new world, a tiny precursor to the government Americans live under today.  It is also notable as a governing document because it makes no reference to religion at all.  Leaders of both groups knew that they would not be able to survive without the other members of the group.  This document, still proclaiming their sovereignty to King James, asserts that decisions will be made democratically and adhered to by the entire population.  At this meeting, when the compact was adopted, they decided to settle in their current location, but send back information to the King on where they had settled and the cause of it.  They proclaimed John Carver their governor, a Puritan, but not a Separatist and not officially a “Saint”.  He seemed the ideal choice because he could bridge the gap between both groups.

The group explored their immediate area and found an excellent site for a settlement.  It was on a small hill, and the land had already been cleared around it.  Later, the pilgrims found out that an epidemic, probably of Small Pox, had wiped out the native village that had been built on that very spot.  To the pilgrims, it seemed providential.  They immediately built a fort on the top of the hill, and started some construction on 3 small houses.   Men took turns sleeping in and defending the fort through the winter.  The women and children were still living on the Mayflower, moored in the harbor until better weather made it easier to oust its passengers and sail back to England.

Even before the fort was completed, massive disease set in.  Fully one half of the group died in the first six months of the landing.  The sick were taken off the Mayflower and housed in the Fort in an attempt to keep the sickness from spreading, but no family was immune from it.  Even John Carver, the newly elected governor, and his wife passed away that first winter.  His wife was one of the first to die, but Carver hung on until a heart attack finished him in late March.  As soon as it was able, the Mayflower left for England with what was left of its crew.

In Carver’s place, William Bradford, was elected as the second governor of the colony.  Bradford was one of the original members of the congregation at Scrooby.  He had attended a year of college before dropping out to take over his father’s farming business and was eventually jailed for Separatist sympathies.  When the Separatists immigrated to Leyden, he followed them and was one of the few to achieve economic independence in Leyden.  He apprenticed himself out to a printer, and set up a shop himself as soon as he was trained, where he printed many pamphlets and books about Separatism that were eventually smuggled back into Britain.

By the time Bradford left for the Americas, he had been able to purchase a small house in a lower middle class neighborhood in Leyden.  Bradford had left a lot back in Holland, but his vision of a model religious community spurred him to make the trip across the ocean.  When John Robinson died in Holland only five years after the pilgrims had sailed, Bradford also became the spiritual leader of his community. He remained the governor for over thirty years.

As winter receded, so did the sickness.  As soon as they were able, survivors continued building houses.  A pen and ink diagram of the colony was drawn up, showing two parallel streets with nineteen lots straddling either side.  The fort had been built on the top of the hill, and the houses gradually sloped down and away from the fort.  The pilgrims also created a small fence to surround the village, which was beefed up two years later to fend off possible Indian attacks.

Outside the fence was farmland.  The first year the group planted several fields of Oats, Barley and other English crops they had brought over, and practiced collective farming.  The pilgrims’ main objective was not to expend any more resources than they absolutely had to.  Anything they could send back to England to pay their debt would be sent. In this spirit, single members of the community did not receive their own homes, but were portioned out to live with a family.  In addition, the houses themselves were of extremely simple construction.  The houses were all constructed under the same layout.  The inside of the houses were comprised of Wattle and Daub, where small sticks were woven together to create walls and then covered over with a mixture of mud and pig dung to make a plaster. The floors were left as dirt, and the chimneys were wooden.  Even by 1600’s standards, these homes were crude and basic.  As the houses did not technically belong to the pilgrims, but to the Virginia Company, colonists felt little desire to improve them.

The fort at the top of the hill immediately became the cultural center of the community.  It was not only used as a defensive structure, but also as the colony’s meeting house and church.  Puritan services, even for non-saints, were compulsory.  Those who declined to attend could face fines, and radical religious opinions were not tolerated.  Later, religious dissenters such as Roger Williams were even turned out of the community completely.

The group did not have much early contact with native tribes in their first six months.  Their experiences had been limited to only a few incidents:  one in which several women ran from them as they approached a beach while searching for a settlement location, another conflict in which they were shot at on a beach, and their continuous finds of native graves dotting the area.

Six months after their landing, a native man walked into the village and announced, “Welcome Englishmen!” in perfect English.  The pilgrims were shocked.  This Indian’s name was Samoset, or Somerset, and he had been sent from the Wampanoag leader, Massasoit, to see if the pilgrims would make an alliance with their tribe.  Samoset also told the group about an Indian who spoke even better English than he did, named Tisquantum.  This name was immediately shortened by the English to Squanto.  Later, they learned that the reason these men spoke such excellent English was because they had both been taken by English ships, trolling the coasts for natives to take back to England as slaves.  Squanto had spent several years in England before escaping back to his tribe.  Samoset had escaped somewhere near Canada, before the English ship that seized him had reached its final destination. He had perfected his English by trading with ships pulling into the harbors.

The pilgrims immediately understood that they would need to have peaceful relations with the native tribes in order for their settlement to survive.  They put together a small delegation and traveled to the Wampanoag village.  The delegation was treated well, staying several days with the Wampanoags while their alliance was solidified.  The deal they hammered out was basic: the Wampanoags and the Pilgrims agreed to peaceful relations between groups.  In addition, the Pilgrims would provide military support to the Wampanoags if they were ever attacked by other tribes, and the Wampanoags would do the same for the Pilgrims.  This alliance, although shaky at times, survived for over 50 years.

Samoset and Squanto both started spending large amounts of time in the colony.  They taught the group how to plant native corn crops, how to catch eels in the nearby river, and how to catch beaver.  These efforts completely saved the colony from extinction, as their early years were extremely difficult.

The first year, many of the English crops the group planted didn’t grow, or didn’t produce.  The only truly successful crop was the corn Samoset and Squanto taught them to plant, and they had only devoted a small segment of their land to it.  In addition, arguments arose around their collective farming system.  Some men complained that their wives should not have to labor to feed other men, and others refused to work the fields at all.  Collective farming wasn’t working.  Labor was extra difficult because so many of the group had died during the winter, and many who had survived were still weakened by the disease.  When the supply ship pulled into the harbor, the group only had a few barrels of eels to send back to pay their debt.  To add insult to injury, that Fall a different ship wrecked on the coast.  The colony had no choice but to take in dozens more.  Rations were extremely slim throughout the winter, and everyone starved together.

In the years following, conditions improved significantly.  Still, it took a full three years before the colony was able to feed itself.  It took eight more before it was able to pay for itself.

By 1628, other settlements were arising in the area, most comprised of separatists like the pilgrims.  Plymouth investors, under the difficult terms of the deal the group had signed, insisted that everyone living in the town be responsible for the debt.  Because of this, other colonies settled nearby.  This way, they could benefit from Plymouth experience without being burdened by Plymouth debt.  Most of these new settlements also had official charters from the English King.  Thus, they were able to command more resources and funding than the original Plymouth colony had been able to.  With supply ships more common, the colony was also no longer as dependent on their own crops to subsist year after year.

Beaver fur had been a mark of royalty and status in England since the middle ages, but had eventually become extinct due to over hunting.  When beaver were discovered in huge numbers populating the New England wilderness, the fad for beaver-fur hats arose again in full force.  With Plymouth Colony prospering, its members were able to expend more resources in the capturing and exporting of these furs.  Plymouth was able to pay its debts and offer an excellent return on investment in relatively short order.  The colony was able to purchase a ship and travel up the coast, eventually building a fort in modern-day Castine, Maine.  They held this outpost for almost ten years, sending massive amounts of beaver pellets back to the colony, and then to England.

As soon as their debt was paid off, colonists began to build sturdy, English-style homes for themselves.  These homes usually featured four rooms downstairs with a small entryway and another four upstairs, all built around a large central chimney for warmth.  The central chimney often opened up into several fireplaces throughout the house.  Walls were still made of crude plaster, but chimneys were made of brick, while the floors were made of wood.  Wealthier colonists could send to England for glass panes to put in their small windows.  These houses were constructed well and many still stand today.  As these dwellings no longer belonged to the Virginia Company, the colonists felt they could invest in nicer houses.

With all the new colonists settling the area and attempting to set up farms, pressures increased on tribes such as the Wampanoags to sell more and more land to the colonists.   By 1675, both Bradford and Massasoit had died and the alliance between the two groups came to a boiling conclusion.  King Philip, also known by his Wampanoag name Metacomet, had taken over leadership of the Wampanoag tribe after his brother’s death.

Metacomet was the youngest son of Massasoit, and originally had excellent relations with the English tribe.  His brother ruled under the name King Alexander, and Metacomet also took an English name, Philip.  He took a great interest in English trade, especially beaver, and spearheaded much trading between the Wampanoag and the English.  Philip was also known for buying many of his clothes in Boston.  Unfortunately, he was a weak king, and was eventually pressured into ceding much of the Wampanoag land to Plymouth Colony.

Upset that the colonists were taking so much land away from him, and facing political pressure from his people, Philip led his tribe to attack several outlying settlements that were part of the Massachusetts Bay Colony.  The tribe then retreated into the marshes, hoping to blend in with the Narragansetts and escape reprisals.  This tactic did not work well.  Instead, colonists led by Plymouth colony attacked Narragansett settlements.  Then, the Narragansett tribe rose up and attacked Plymouth colony itself.  The colony was able to withstand the attack, and a few months afterward they tracked down Philip with the help of the local Mohawk tribe.  When the Mohawks declined to join Philip, citing their neutrality, Philip made the mistake of attacking them and trying to blame it on the English.  This decision ultimately cost him his life.  Philip’s severed head could be seen in the colony for several decades following the conflict.  Known as King Philip’s War, it is tragic that the grand alliance of the original colonists ended with such violence.

Shortly after King Philip’s War ended, so did Plymouth colony as an individual entity.  The British government was paying more attention to the colonies and how they were organized, and the colony without a charter did not fit the model Britain wanted.  Seventy years after Plymouth Colony sent back word with the battered Mayflower that they had not settled in their originally intended location, their requested charter came.  Unfortunately, it folded the colony in with the Massachusetts Bay Colony, New Hampshire, and parts of modern-day Maine.  The new colony, entitled Dominion, eventually failed because the massive territory it encompassed was just too difficult for a single governor to manage.  Still, the forming of this new colony marked the end of Plymouth as a solitary identity.

Although this marked the end of Plymouth itself, the experiences of the people living there quickly became part of American legend.  A hundred years after the settlement was established, the legend of Plymouth Rock began to circulate.  In reality, there is no evidence that the pilgrims landed their boat on anything but the sand.  Still, a pavilion housing a deceptively tiny rock carved with the date 1620, stands on the beach in Plymouth to this day.  Much of the rock is said to have been chipped off for souvenirs before the pavilion was built, and more than two-thirds of the rock is buried in the sand.

The Pilgrim Myth gained greater steam when, in 1863, Lincoln first declared a National day of Thanksgiving, citing a harvest dinner held by the Plymouth Colony as the precursor.  This, too, has very little basis in fact.  If the ceremony was religious, as we think of it today, it was likely not accompanied by a feast with games and native guests.  Days of Thanksgiving were common in the Puritan faith, but they were nearly always comprised of a full day of attending church services and praying.  If a feast like the one we think of did take place, it was certainly a secular entertainment and not for the purpose of thanking God for getting them through the first winter.

Despite the many misconceptions modern society harbors about the pilgrims and their famous first year, the true story is still compelling.  They were a very human, very uncertain band of people determined to achieve religious autonomy.  The alliances they made with the local Wampanoag tribe are unprecedented.  Perhaps this is the reason why the Plymouth colony is remembered as being the founders of America.  They represent everything Americans wish to be: peaceful, determined, and courageous in the face of adversity.  Although the pilgrims did not always live up to these standards, they still provide us with an inspiring story of their quest to make a home in the new world, and their story will be part of the American mythos for centuries to come.

Bibliography:

Bradford, William, Of Plimoth Plantation, (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons: 1908),             http://mith.umd.edu//eada/html/display.php?docs=bradford_history.xml (accessed 23        April 2012)

Bunker, Nick, Making Haste From Babylon: The Mayflower Pilgrims and Their World: A New     History, (Knopf, 2010 )

Miller, Perry, The American Puritans: Their Prose and Poetry, (:Columbia University Press ,         1982)

Philbrick, Nathaniel, Mayflower: A Story of Courage, Community and War, (New York Penguin   Books, 2007)

Winslow, Edward, Good Newes from New England, (London: William Bladen and John   Bellamie, 1624)

 

 

 

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