Good stuff. I enjoy your commentary and writing Mr. Brands. Currently reading Dreams of El Dorado. A History of the American West. I’m sure the folks belonging to that time had a sense of being quite special and unique.
Lest I appear too flippant in my earlier comment, allow me, in a more serious vein, to share a personal fact.
It occurred to me a few years ago that for over a half century, I had been searching for my own philosophy of history. At some point, I distilled two (2) “principles” that I have come to reflect upon after I sense I have become too emotionally stimulated by the events of current times (put another way “too full of myself”):
1) This too shall pass. In the lyrical words of Kris Kristofferson, put in song by Ray Price,
“But life goes on
And this old world will keep on turning
Let's just be glad
We had some time to spend together
There's no need to watch the bridges
That we’re burning.”
[As it turns out, this is not too far removed from Prof. Brands’ 10th Rule.]
Often my regret is that I might not be around long enough to see how future historians interpret these current times. As our British cousins say: “Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
2) History that comes down to us is usually written and told about the brightest and most able people of that time, event and generation, theirs without the benefit of foresight, ours viewed through lenses of hindsight, ground by an optical fabricator with properties that may distort and without our being conscious of the aberrations caused by the lens’ properties themselves or the present conditions of the atmosphere through which photons are directed to our metaphorical historical retinas, pleasing to us because it presents a vision consistent with our own world view. (That last sentence of 111 words and 7 clauses may rival Dickens’ opening in “A Tale of Two Cities” in its “ run-on way, through several more clauses to the conclusion,” but hardly can match the Dickensenian eloquence. But he was usually paid by the word, and, alas, I am not.)
[Lo and behold, mine is a convoluted way of stating some of the same ideas that I find in Prof. Brands’ currently “codified” Rules 3, 4, 6, 8 and 9.]
And after the 10th rule, the historian rested and said, “it is good.” … After a little while, a small voice emerged from a source yet unknown and whispered, “Well, at least it’s good enough.”
Good stuff. I enjoy your commentary and writing Mr. Brands. Currently reading Dreams of El Dorado. A History of the American West. I’m sure the folks belonging to that time had a sense of being quite special and unique.
Lest I appear too flippant in my earlier comment, allow me, in a more serious vein, to share a personal fact.
It occurred to me a few years ago that for over a half century, I had been searching for my own philosophy of history. At some point, I distilled two (2) “principles” that I have come to reflect upon after I sense I have become too emotionally stimulated by the events of current times (put another way “too full of myself”):
1) This too shall pass. In the lyrical words of Kris Kristofferson, put in song by Ray Price,
“But life goes on
And this old world will keep on turning
Let's just be glad
We had some time to spend together
There's no need to watch the bridges
That we’re burning.”
[As it turns out, this is not too far removed from Prof. Brands’ 10th Rule.]
Often my regret is that I might not be around long enough to see how future historians interpret these current times. As our British cousins say: “Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
2) History that comes down to us is usually written and told about the brightest and most able people of that time, event and generation, theirs without the benefit of foresight, ours viewed through lenses of hindsight, ground by an optical fabricator with properties that may distort and without our being conscious of the aberrations caused by the lens’ properties themselves or the present conditions of the atmosphere through which photons are directed to our metaphorical historical retinas, pleasing to us because it presents a vision consistent with our own world view. (That last sentence of 111 words and 7 clauses may rival Dickens’ opening in “A Tale of Two Cities” in its “ run-on way, through several more clauses to the conclusion,” but hardly can match the Dickensenian eloquence. But he was usually paid by the word, and, alas, I am not.)
[Lo and behold, mine is a convoluted way of stating some of the same ideas that I find in Prof. Brands’ currently “codified” Rules 3, 4, 6, 8 and 9.]
And after the 10th rule, the historian rested and said, “it is good.” … After a little while, a small voice emerged from a source yet unknown and whispered, “Well, at least it’s good enough.”