Connecting the Dots

Perhaps it was appropriate that I was much more involved in literature than politics as a young person, as in northeast Iowa we were far from the seats of power. Nevertheless, American politics did have its effect on us. We avidly listened to news discussions and debates on television on winter afternoons, read what we could in magazines and discussed current events in school. It just felt so far away!

Thus I was delighted to run across someone only slightly older than me, who had lived and worked in Washington, D.C. from 1966 through 1974. Judith Nies published The Girl I Left Behind: A Narrative History of the Sixties in 2008 as an explanation for her daughter of the political life she had led and why she left it. In direct, vivid prose she describes her education and her work, telling stories of the people she met and her growing understanding.

She had three very interesting jobs in Washington, first working for The Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom, where she met some of the activist women who had campaigned for and finally won the vote for women in 1919. Telling their stories, she connects their influence to the amazing women who were instrumental in preventing atmospheric nuclear testing and stood up to the House Un-American Activities Commission in 1961 saying, “We are a movement, not an organization,” and then to the “second wave” of feminists.

From 1968 to 1970 Nies worked for a coalition of ten congressmen who were opposed to the war in Viet Nam, coordinating hearings on the war which resulted in two important books which she edited with Erwin Knoll, War Crimes and the American Conscience and American Militarism. Her last job in Washington was for congressman Don Frazer and the Women’s Equity Action League, working on examining how American leadership is selected and trained. The book wonderfully describes her growing understanding of privilege as it relates particularly to those who develop America’s foreign policy.

Judith Nies’ book connected many dots for me on the atmosphere of those early days as well as what it would have been like to be smart, working class, and yet have aspirations toward foreign policy work. My family had a strong, empathetic interest in foreign affairs. My parents housed Displaced Persons after World War II. We were always interested in what missionaries traveling through our area had to say. And perhaps the literature that we read so avidly opened us to the understanding of others as well. But no amount of study could give me the insights Judith Nies received from being on the scene. I recommend her book.

Fit Company for Themselves

In addition to editing “The Pastor’s Kids,” I’ve begun to let the sequel creep into my consciousness. I know what will be in it to some extent, but I haven’t let myself imagine the actual incidents. In a way, this, the “making up” part, is my favorite part of writing. First though, I’m dealing with the title.

For a while the second book has been called “Bound Away” from the American folk song “Shenandoah.” Bruce Springsteen has a version I’ve been listening to:

            “Shenandoah, I love your daughter

            Away, you rolling river

            I’ll take her across the water

            Away, bound away

            Cross the wide Missouri.”

But if you don’t hear it as part of the song, you might think it was a matter of “bounding away” like a rabbit across a meadow. My characters actually make the transition from a 19^th Century to a 20^th Century world view in this second book. But it isn’t without a certain amount of anguish. No one bounds away with delight. It is more a matter of being dragged, taken away.

I toyed with phrases from Simon and Garfunkel lyrics, which show the pain of beginning to be your own person, such as in “Kathy’s Song”:

“And so you see I have come to doubt

All that I once held as true.

I stand alone without beliefs

The only truth I know is you.

And as I watch the drops of rain

Weave their weary paths and die,

I know that I am like the rain

There but for the grace of you go I.”

Or the lightness and attempt to hold the sweetness and irresponsibility of youth in “The 59^th Street Bridge Song” (if you can’t hear the melody as you read these lyrics, look the songs up on YouTube!):

“I've got no deeds to do,

No promises to keep.

I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep.

Let the morning time drop all it's petals on me.

Life, I love you,

All is groovy.”

But Line, Marty and Paul just aren’t there yet. In the second book there is still a formality which hasn’t fallen away from their lives. Intellectually they are moving into open space, but tradition holds them. In the second book, Line and Marty go to college and Paul finishes high school. They are full of ideals inherited directly from their European ancestors, and they know no others. The epiphanies that come to them they don’t yet understand.

An English proverb states, “Learning makes people fit company for themselves.” A liberal arts education doesn’t help one earn a living as much as it helps one’s understanding and love of life. Line, Marty and Paul were treated to such an education in the early 1960’s. Thus, I believe the title “Fit Company for Themselves” reflects the cultural story space in which we will find them in the sequel to “The Pastor’s Kids.”