Alexandersmap

    Author: nhcarmichael

    • Jeffrey Amherst

      The winners get to write the history.  That maxim has dictated what we’ve learned in history books, at church or in the stories told time and again through generations.  Whether its historical perspective, political correctness gone awry or a long overdue reset, there’s no doubt that some of the historical figures of the past are getting re-evaluated over the last decade or so.

      General Robert E Lee, Columbus, Hannah Duston, and Tom Yawkey are some of the historical figures honored in the past who are being re-examined in the present.  Outrage addiction is real, and there are plenty of people who look for anything they can find to be indignant about.  Some people ignore the realities of the situation people were in at the time, like Hannah Duston’s immediate peril should she be discovered escaping that island on the Merrimack River.

      Jeffrey Amherst is a good example of one-time hero being re-examined with the lens of history.  There’s no doubt that Amherst was a man of action trying to win the French and Indian War.  There’s no doubt that the settlers in the region were enduring atrocities at the hands of the Native Americans allied with the French.  But history points out that Amherst is the man that approved giving smallpox-infected blankets to Chief Pontiac’s Ottawa who were wreaking havoc on Fort Pitt and the settlements in Western Pennsylvania.

      In a letter to Colonel Henry Bouquet in 1763 Jeffrey Amherst approved of a plan to “to try Every other method that can serve to Extirpate this Execrable Race.” in response to Bouquet’s letter asking for permission to “inocculate the Indians”.  Biological warfare utilized to eliminate a problem during war.  It’s hard to justify the action, but it’s easy to understand if you look at the North American settlers killed and kidnapped over the past 70 years in wars between the French and British.  There were horrors on both sides.

    • Slavery in New Hampshire

      Slavery in New Hampshire

      When I think of New Hampshire, I don’t think about slavery.  Frankly, it’s inconceivable to me that someone would enslave another human being, but it was commonplace in all of the thirteen colonies in the 1600’s until 1865, when it was finally abolished after the Civil War.

      But it surely existed here.  In 1767 there were 187 slaves in Portsmouth, New Hampshire.  Portsmouth was a hub for the transport of slaves into North America and human beings were bought and sold right on the same streets we walk today.  There are as many as 200 deceased slaves under the streets of Portsmouth around Congress Street who probably died soon after arriving in the city.  Slaves that died on the transport ships were thrown overboard like garbage.

      New Hampshire wasn’t an optimal location for slaves, not because of a moral imperative, but because the land didn’t support farming using slave labor.  It simply wasn’t as profitable here, but it was still cheap enough to justify the act.  Over time, as the Industrial Revolution transformed the region to a manufacturing hub, cheap human labor used in the factories because the norm.  Slavery was pushed to the south, where plantations made slavery economically viable.

      Looking around New Hampshire, it’s not a particularly diverse population.  Perhaps that lack of slave labor meant that when it was finally abolished there simply weren’t many black people living here.  Perhaps its because when these slaves became freed they congregated in communities elsewhere.  Whatever the reason, New Hampshire remains one of the whitest states in the union.

      I’m not at all comfortable writing about slavery.  I’m not a perfect man, but I’m a free man and I can empathize with those who endured the horrors of slavery.  For all the talk of freedom in the years leading up to and after the Revolutionary War, the colonists of the time largely overlooked the plight of those who served them.  Still, there was a growing revulsion towards slavery, and over the one hundred years from when those 187 slaves were in Portsmouth the Americans reached a tipping point where it was outlawed.  Slavery remains a stain on our history, and it’s important to remember that the stain wasn’t just in the south.

    • Choosing a Response

      Choosing a Response

      “Between stimulus and response, there is a space.  In that space is our power to choose our response.” – Victor Frankl

      In a career spent interacting with other people, some who aren’t always pleasant to be around, I’ve come to appreciate this Frankl quote.  In general I work to choose the appropriate response.  And by appropriate I generally mean professional.  I write this with one particularly nasty human being who runs a successful business and happens to be a customer.  He’s taken the opportunity to attack me a couple of times.  I’ve taken the opportunity to never respond to his attacks.  And while I haven’t fired this company as a customer, I have taken steps to replace his business with more pleasant people.

      Life is too short to work for assholes. – Unknown

      I use this one a lot when people ask me about taking certain jobs, or working with certain people.  I’ve applied it in my own career to people who I didn’t like all that much but happened to be working for.  In every one of those cases, we parted ways pretty quickly.  There are four in particular who I won’t ever associate with again.  And until I wrote this I hadn’t even thought about them in some time.  Filed them in the memory dumpster.

      I was listening to a podcast with David Goggins, an ex-Navy SEAL who is famous for putting himself through insane long distance running events, setting pull-up records, and generally for being a tough SOB.  The interviewer stated that he did his best not to get upset about the trolls who commented on his social media feeds.  They both agreed that deleting the comment and blocking the troll was the best thing to do.  Why get upset about someone you don’t know saying something about you?

      This goes for any celebrity, or anyone that contributes anything meaningful to the world.  Haters are gonna hate.  The New England Patriots are about to play in their third straight Super Bowl and the tenth in Tom Brady’s career.  Fans of other teams, and sports writers and commentators who are sick of the same team being in it every year love to tear them down, find controversies, invent scandals, and otherwise act like trolls.  I don’t believe Brady gives a damn what anyone thinks about it at this point in his career, but it must get old having to filter out the haters.

      Perhaps the worst offense of all is the way many of us self-talk to ourselves.  We’re our own worst critics.  This is the stuff that drives growth but can cripple you with self-doubt if you let it.  That’s choosing our response too.  I try to delete the comment and block the troll whenever possible.  Especially when the troll is in my own mind.

    • Sea Smoke

      Sea Smoke

      On especially cold days like the last few, the air temperature is well below the temperature of the ocean.  The differential between the two temperatures causes the water to steam, creating a fog that swirls across the surface of the water.  It’s a beautiful thing to see, even if you don’t want to linger outside too long.

      Similar swirls can be seen on the highway in extreme cold after a snowstorm.  It’s caused when the snow that’s accumulated on cars and trucks breaks off and crashes onto the road surface (and hopefully not your windshield) and this snow is cast about by the wind currents of high speed traffic. This is beautiful for all the wrong reasons (Clean your cars off people!).

      Sea smoke has another couple of interesting names.  Steam fog, which is a great name for a beer, and frost smoke.  But we call it sea smoke around here.  When you see it, you know it’s bloody cold outside.

    • Paradise in the Starbucks Drive-Thru

      I was waiting in a Starbucks drive-thru this morning and looking at the house behind it.  Before there was a Starbucks in this spot there was a Mobile station.  Before that?  Probably the yard of the house I was looking at.  Before that?  Probably farmland for a family that owned a larger plot of land in this corner of Haverhill.  Before that?  Probably a few generations of farmers.  And before that?  Perhaps the Duston family, who lived across the Little River, or another family that settled this land.  Before that?  Deep woodland that the Eastern Abanaki inhabited for centuries.

      I wonder now and then what the generations of people who lived on this land would think of it now.  Plunked down in the Starbucks parking lot, they’d be stunned to see the semicircle of cars lined up around the building as coffee addicts and Frappuccino posers each pulled up and completed their transactions.

      They call this part of Methuen Paradise Valley.  The valley today doesn’t measure up to the name.  Don’t get me wrong, there’s some lovely parts of Haverhill and Methuen.  But the spirit of the place, that intangible that prompted some folks a few generations back to name this place Paradise Valley is gone now.

      “Don’t it always seem to go
       That you don’t know what you’ve got til its gone
       They paved paradise
       And put up a parking lot.” – Big Yellow Taxi, Joni Mitchell

      Conservation and preservation are really the only way forward.  I hope people look up from their phones and lattes long enough to realize that.  Or maybe its just progress and I don’t see it.

    • Perspective on the Weather

      Perspective on the Weather

      It’s bitterly cold outside.  Snow boots, winter parka, bomber hat flaps tight to the face when you’re letting the dog out cold.  In general I don’t complain about the weather.  Hell I live in New England and while some call it our birthright, I view it as whining about something you can control.  Don’t like it?  Move to Florida.

      When it gets like this I think about the people who were out in these elements fighting the Revolutionary War or the French & Indian War.  No creature comforts for Colonel Henry Knox and the soldiers in his command as they hauled artillery 300 miles through the wilderness from Fort Ticonderoga to Boston to help free the city from the British siege in the winter of 1775 – 1776.  Nor for Rogers Rangers and slowly starved to death as they evaded the French and Native Americans who were actively hunting for them on lands they knew better.  No reprieve for George Washington and the soldiers hunkered down at Valley Forge in the winter of 1777 – 1778.  I could write another hundred examples but I think you get the point.

      History offers great perspective on what real hardship is.  It isn’t living in the suburbs with a gas furnace and six supermarkets within ten minutes drive and pizza delivery a call away.  No, this isn’t hardship, and I tune out those who complain about it.

    • Stoicism and Daily Habits

      I’m pondering a pair of quotes from the stoics.  They go well together of course; each a call to action.  And these quotes also pair well with two books I’m reading right now.

      “Give yourself fully to your endeavors.  Decide to construct your character through excellent actions and determine to pay the price of a worthy goal.  The trials you encounter will introduce you to your strengths” – Epictetus

      “Not to assume it’s impossible because you find it hard.  But to recognize that if it’s humanly possible, you can do it too.” – Marcus Aurelius

      I’ve been reading a gem of a book, The Daily Stoic, by Ryan Holiday.  This book, as the name indicates, is a daily practice.  Get up in the morning, read the one page quote and thoughts on it from Holiday.  In these days of phone addiction, this is a ritual that I’m enjoying.  I usually switch immediately to reading a few pages of whatever book I’m onto at the moment.  At the moment that means Atomic Habits by James Clear.  Brilliantly crafted book with actionable steps for the reader to establish better daily habits.

      Action is the trick.  Today I had a good day because I took action on the objectives I’d laid out for myself.  Tomorrow I hope to build on today’s momentum with more action and perhaps some solid results.  Consistent daily effort, over time, leads to results.  Nothing new in this, and yet so hard to see the forest for the trees sometimes.  That’s one reason I read so many books like this.  They reinforce the message, dilute the impact of the crushing negativity on social media, the news and from the fellowship of the miserable.

      You are the average of the people you hang with the most.  So I choose to hang out with authors and thought leaders who lead me in the direction I want to go in.  Reading and podcasts offer much more than television and talk radio.  So we’ll see how far of a leap forward I take.  But staying where you are in a rapidly changing world is really going backwards.  And I’m not going to go backwards.

    • Poetry in Motion

      I’m writing this as windblown sleet bounces off the windows, announcing the change in the weather outside.  The overnight snow as turned to sleet, and I hear freezing rain is to our south and may swing up to us.  This would lead to power outages and turn the overnight snow into concrete.  Timing is everything on days like today.  Clean the driveway too soon and you’ll have to do it once or twice more.  Too late and you’ll have a tortuous fight against a wall of ice.  Such is the New England winter.

      “There is clarity (and joy) in seeing what others can’t see, in finding grace and harmony in places others overlook.  Isn’t that far better than seeing the world as some dark place?” – Ryan Holiday
      The entire point of this blog is to document my observations and practice my writing skills and build daily writing habits in the process.  If you’re reading this you’re in a distinct minority, but let me take a moment to thank you for taking the time.  I hope I make the journey interesting enough to stick around.
      Outside I can hear the snowblower roar and grunt as one of my neighbors gets to work on their driveway.  I need to do the same soon.  The sleet indicates the changeover.  We aren’t going back to snow.  So it’s time to leave the warm comfort of the house for an hour or so and get to work.  I make that statement knowing full well how easy I have it compared to the linemen who will be restoring power across the region, or the people plowing all night and day as I slept and sipped my coffee.  We live in a world where people don’t look up from their phones or Netflix long enough to notice the world dancing around us.  Snow turns to sleet and then to freezing rain.  We in turn react to this changing state.  It’s all a chess match this New England life.  I need to step out and make my next move.

    • Cranberry Bogs

      Southeastern Massachusetts is dotted with cranberry bogs.  Looking at a Google satellite image of South Carver, Massachusetts shows just how extensive the cranberry farming is.  This area is known as the cranberry growing capital of the world.  And while the volume of cranberries grown in other places like Oregon may have surpassed this region, there’s still a strong association with this fruit and the place.

      Cranberries are grown on dry land that is flooded for harvest.  The berries float to the surface, making harvesting them much easier than picking them by hand.  Farmers use a rake to pull the cranberries off the plants.  Machines have largely taken over this process.

      In winter the cranberry bogs are transformed into acres of frozen ponds that quietly wait out the winter.  Flooding the bogs protects the plants from hard freezes.  To me the bogs are almost as interesting to watch as they march through the seasons as a stand of maple trees.  Each season brings a new face to the bog, and the transition from ice to brown to green to crimson is fascinating.

    • Ho-Ho-Kus

      In 1698, right about when Hannah Dustin was kidnapped in Haverhill, Massachusetts and eventually escaped back down the Merrimack River, settlers in New Jersey established a permanent home in a community that would eventually be called Ho-Ho-Kus.  As a New Englander, I’d never heard of this town, but I absolutely know some of the people who have come through this community.  Aaron Burr married into the community and lived at the Hermitage.  Other notable visitors included Alexander Hamilton, Benedict Arnold,

      I had a lovely dinner at the Ho-Ho-Kus Inn, which is an old farmhouse that’s been built up over the years to become a highly-regarded restaurant.  Being a visitor to the area, I didn’t know the history of the name, but it clearly originated from Native Americans who lived in this region.  The Borough of Ho-Ho-Kus has an excellent history of the community and provides theories around the name.

      According to the Borough’s site, the origin of the name comes from one of these possible origins:

      it is an Indian word for running water

      it means cleft in the rock or under the rock or hollow rock

      it comes from hohokes signifying the whistle of the wind against the bark of trees

      it is named from the Chihohokies Indians whose chief lived here

      it comes from the Dutch Hoog Akers for high acorns or Hoge Aukers, Dutch for high oaks

      its “Ho” part means joy or spirit and the rest of the name hohokes means a kind of bark of a tree

      it comes from Indian hoccus meaning fox, woakus, gray fox.

      Whatever the original meaning of the name, it’s certainly interesting.  Having worked for a company with a hyphen, and partnering with another company that has a hyphen, I appreciate the commitment of the borough to retain this unique spelling.  It’s one thing to add hyphens when you’re handwriting the name.  It’s quite another to type hyphens into the name. 

      I’ve been to a lot of places in my lifetime.  I’m happy to add Ho-Ho-Kus to that list.  I don’t know which of the origins is correct, but the one that resonates for me is that “Ho” means Joy or spirit, and the rest references bark.  So to me, it makes sense that it would refer to the whistle of the wind through the high oak trees.  I’ve heard that sound myself in other places and find it a joyful noise.  So perhaps the spirits of the ancients are whistling to us as they pass through the oak trees.