THERE ARE LOTS
of us, no doubt. Cousins, that is. As you go back in time, the fewer the people and therefore the increased likelihood that any two people today share a common ancestor.
Such is the case with a roguish character who sailed for America on the Mayflower as an indentured servant, Edward Doty. I am a descendant, thanks to my mother.
So was Dorothy Anne “D.A.” Murphy Van Nest of Scottsdale, Arizona. She died in September at the age of 95, and I learned about her connection to Doty and me from her obituary.
Sure, technically the war started in 1917. But gearing up for war took time, and though American soldiers arrived on the Western Front by June, combat didn’t start in earnest for the Americans until 1918. A series of silver coins is being released in commemoration.
Hugh Hefner, founder of Playboy magazine and an ensuing media empire, recently died at the age of 91. And feminist icon Camille Paglia had a few thoughts.
“Hefner’s new vision of American masculinity was part of his desperate revision of his own Puritan heritage. On his father’s side, he descended directly from William Bradford, who came over on the Mayflower and was governor of Plymouth Colony, the major settlement of New England Puritans.”
An interesting take on Hefner and the sexual revolution.
August 17, 1635: Richard Mather arrives in Boston, beginning the “Mather Dynasty” in New England Puritanism that also included his son, Cotton, and grandson, Increase.
I’ve been looking through newspaper files, focusing on events on the front page, to see what my great uncle was seeing and reading while living in Seattle in 1940. The war was on, but America was not yet directly involved in the hostilities.
“History is not dry dates and data, and it is not gossip or cheap stuff, it is human beings acting — sometimes heroically, sometimes inadequately or wickedly — in real time.” — Peggy Noonan
“They’re friendly, lovable little horses — a gift from the South Carolina Lowcountry’s mysterious past.”
And this pair has been taken — stolen — by someone.
I signed up to get a daily history email from the folks at the magazine Christianity Today.
March 25 is an important date for me. (It’s my birthday.) So, I like to read about it, that particular day, such as who share a birthday with me.
Well, then I learned that King James died on that day in 1625, only to realize that it is probably a mistake. Wikipedia and the Encyclopedia Britannica put his death date as March 27.
I was typing away, nearly ready to publish when I discovered this discrepancy.
|Three hundred and ninety-two years ago, King James I of England died — on March 25, 1625. Twenty-one years previously, in 1604 at the Hampton Court Conference, he had authorized the translation project that produced the King James translation (KJV) of the Bible.
“Henry hates John. John abhors Henry. Andrew can’t stand Henry or John—and neither of them have any use for Andrew.”
Henry is Henry Clay, Speaker of the House for decades. John is John C. Calhoun, a proud southerner who developed the idea of nullification. And Andrew is Andrew Jackson, war hero and eventual president of the United States.
I discovered this incredible summation of affairs in the book Distory: A Treasury of Historical Insults by a man named Schnakenberg.
ambitious as Lucifer,
cold as a snake,
and what he touches
will not prosper.
— Sam Houston on Jefferson Davis