He was president of Samford University, some 143 years ago, two campuses and one name ago, when the place was still known as Howard College. The statue, seven feet tall and tipping the scales at a metric tonne, was delivered to Samford two years ago after a long tour in Statuary Hall at the U.S. Capitol.
He was replaced there by Helen Keller, and so now he’s back on campus. Not that he’d know this place. Birmingham wasn’t even a town then.
Curry, was a Mexican War veteran, Alabama lawyer and member of the state legislature, the U.S. Congress, the Confederate Congress and an officer in the Confederate Army. Later he would become a Baptist preacher.
He was also a Horace Mann universal education disciple. Booker T. Washington proclaimed “There was no man in the country more deeply interested in the higher welfare of the Negro than Dr. Curry.”
Curry was appointed president of Howard College in 1865, where he served for three years. Later he was an ambassador to Spain.
The sculpture had been stained by tobacco smoke and marked by generations of U.S. Capitol visitors with pens, proving people are stupid. But he was cleaned for his return to Samford, where he is on display in the Beeson University Center. He has a (presumably) unauthorized and sadly dormant Twitter account. And, now, is wearing what is presumably a university sanctioned Christmas hat.
Had a nice conversation with the fiancee of a former student today. (She is designing at Oxmoor House here in town.) He is a storyteller. Check out some of his recent work.
Among other things, he’s also working as a research assistant on the first authorized biography on Jerry Lee Lewis. Those will be interesting interviews.
That would be the tale you told at every gathering, if it happened to you. It was just another day in Jerry Lee’s world.
Just another fine day on campus for me as well. I taught about broadcast writing today, and focused on radio scripts. We’ll do television next week.
So I did the spiel, told some of my own war stories and showed written examples. We talked about the active voice and visual structure and actualities.
I gave them two stories from the paper to re-write as an exercise. “This one,” I said, “is probably a 30 second story. This one is probably 45 or 50 seconds. Write them out and read and time them.”
I wrote a version of the longer story. It was 42 seconds.
It has been almost eight years, but I’ve still got that clock in my head.
Holiday travels this week, so we’re padding this out with videos and memories. But there’s a theme! This is Iron Bowl week after all. So let’s talk about football all week. Happy Thanksgiving!
Honestly, this entire week on the site has been an excuse to work up to this picture. (Also published, and well-received, on dearphotograph.com.) Since Thanksgiving is a day of family and friends, I’m putting it here.
The photograph was taken in the spring of my freshman year at Auburn. My mother brought my grandmother, and her lifelong friend to campus to visit. They toured the campus, saw the arboretum, took photographs with Tiger VI and even got to “sneak” inside the stadium.
They played a little tackle football, with my mother tackling her mother while Ms. Lucy was the quarterback and referee.
I love that picture, and this year at homecoming I took it into Jordan-Hare Stadium to take the picture of the picture. That’s almost precisely from the same spot, looking to the south end zone.
And what makes it especially nice, this new photograph, is that the two teams playing at homecoming were my alma mater, Auburn, which I love, and my employer, Samford University, of which I am also fond.
This is a charmed life, and so precious little of that has to do with football, but it is a neat way to mention it.
At the big Thanksgiving lunch today I offered the blessing for those that were there and those that cooked this delicious meal. I asked for us to take all of our free minutes of the day to consider the things for which we are thankful and I asked for our friends and loves ones who couldn’t be with us to be watched over and cared for in their absence.
On this day of giving thanks, it is foolish and whimsy to consider something as silly as football, even in a place where it stains the culture as it does here. We have so many things for which to be thankful. I hope you find yourself in a similar situation. And I want you to know I’m thankful for you — be you an old friend or casual search engine visitor — have a lovely day.
movies / Thursday — Comments Off on Twilight time 17 Nov 11
One historian speculates that the slow-cooking method of barbecue stems from a long tradition of general slowness in the South, (Bass 311), and maybe that is the reason that the South has been slow to abandon its traditional foodways. Other theories include the relative poverty of the South compared to the rest of the region, and a resulting reliance on familiar (and easily and cheaply procured) foods. Slow-cooking methods can transform tough and stringy meats and vegetables into delicious meals, and canning and preserving bountiful summer foodstuffs is an economical Southern custom. Cooking with pork adds flavor without expensive seasoning. The Depression which enveloped the United States in the mid-twentieth century was nothing new for most Southerners– poverty was a way of life for many Southerners long before it affected the rest of the country.
Another reason for the strong tradition inherent in Southern cooking is the emphasis on tradition in most aspects of Southern culture. Most Southerners are proud of their traditions– for hospitality, for strong family ties, and for a lavishly laid table.
[…]
Simmering vegetables for hours on the back of the stove made sense in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries– the stove was already lit, and the cook could tend to her many other chores without worrying about the greens and fatback (or butter beans or stewed corn or other vegetables). They would peacefully simmer at low heat, and would provide a meal (along with some biscuits or cornbread) when her other chores were finished. Today, this method is not convenient, but it persists. When Georgia Brown’s, a restaurant specializing in Southern food in Washington D.C., started serving collard greens that were cooked quickly to retain crispness and nutrients, patrons complained. Now, the restaurant serves collards both ways. Obviously, convenience is not the main factor in food preparation in the South anymore– memory and tradition dictate some food choices.
The sociology of food would be an interesting field, but it would always leave you hungry. You’d only find yourself stuffed when you disagreed with someone’s obviously wrong conclusion.
That’s from the Department of American Studies at Virginia, where they will also demonstrate the complexities and contradictions of America in the 1930s. Read everything there, go back in time and fit right in. It has only been 80 years, but that’s our world and our great-grandparents world do have some differences. We have, for example, successfully learned to keep giant gorillas off the Empire State Building.
A touching feature story from Ohio, where Sgt. 1st Class Steven Jessie is being forced out of the guard after a 30-year career. His last duty assignment has been working honor guards at funerals, having participated in more than 1,000 burials.
“I don’t necessarily believe that the guest of honor can look down from the great beyond. But, if he can, he will see that his remains are being treated with honor.”
Fifteen minutes later, Charlie Smith’s family arrived. The ceremony unfolded. The flag was folded. And presented to Mike Smith, Charlie’s son.
Jessie gave a special emphasis when he said the word “appreciation” as he presented the flag to the GI’s son.
Smith noticed. After the funeral, he walked to where the honor guard stood. The trio had marched from the crest of the hill to a valley out of sight of the procession.
Smith shook Jessie’s hand.
“It meant a lot to know a man who took up the call of duty for his country,” Smith said, “hasn’t been forgotten.”
He turned and walked away, still clutching the flag in the same position in which he received it from Jessie.
My great-grandfather, a decorated World War II medic, had asked only for a VFW honor guard, which was simple and sweet and somehow not enough, but that was his way and the family’s wish.
This function of military ceremony, though, at once critical and tragic, is an interesting area. You’re one of the main players in some terrible, traumatic moment of people’s lives, whether you’re talking about old gray veterans or active duty service members. The other side of it is the notification. There was an understated movie — which was greatly harmed by one too many subplots — on the topic:
The really moving piece on the subject, however, is this slide show and the incredible Pulitzer Prize-winning feature writing that accompanied it. Sadly the paper that published it, The Rocky Mountain News has since folded, but Jim Sheeler and Todd Heisler’s work is enduring, as they followed a notification and burial detail for a year. They tell this story from a Marine’s return home, to his funeral, before his child is born. The photographs just build and build and then the last one, one you might not expect, punches you in the throat.
Back to the story on Sgt. Jessie, then, where the funeral director says he’s seen soldiers who can’t fold the flag. But he knows: when Jessie is there everything will be right. That’s a job to be taken seriously, nice to see there are men and women who do it.
Class today. It was otherwise one of those days that slips away in chunks that you can’t quite explain. I did read a lot though. There’s always a lot of reading, it seems. Should have gotten more done than I managed to, but that’s what tomorrow and next week are for.
