Words by Allyson

When you have a really interesting piece of information, but it doesn't contribute to your paper.

I've been looking a little bit at Kennedy's life in preparation for next week's anniversary of his death.  I stumbled on this letter, and I think it was just charming:

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Dear Mr. Kennedy,

Please stop the Russians from bombing the North Pole because they will kill Santa Claus. I am 8 years old. I am in the third grade at Holy Cross School.

Yours truly,

Michelle Rochon

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THE WHITE HOUSE

October 28, 1961

Dear Michelle:

I was glad to get your letter about trying to stop the Russians from bombing the North Pole and risking the life of Santa Claus. 

I share your concern about the atmospheric testing of the Soviet Union, not only for the North Pole but for countries throughout the world; not only for Santa Claus but for people throughout the world. 

However, you must not worry about Santa Claus. I talked with him yesterday and he is fine. He will be making his rounds again this Christmas. 

Sincerely, 

John Kennedy

It's a boy!





I was beyond excited yesterday when I heard Kate had given birth! I have a slight obsession with the Royals. There's just something magical about it. I remember the day of the Kate and William's wedding, I actually was flying home to Florida, so my wonderful mother taped it so I could watch it as soon as I got home.

And now there's a new prince! It's literally history in the making. Congratulations to the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge and your sweet baby; y'all are precious!

images via

This is one of my favorite historical photographs, from twenty-four years ago today.  Thanks for your bravery Tank Man.  You inspire me.

Today I was daydreaming about going to Paris.  I'm sure that someday in the future I'll end up there, but not for the foreseeable future.  And so today, in my mind, I planned my trip.

I found a flight for tomorrow from SLC and a hotel on Champs-Elysees for a week (because if it's a daydream, I'm obviously going to have the best).

I think we can all agree that this week has been a rough one for America.  My little heart has been broken one too many times this week.  So today I just want to celebrate.

I love America.

I love fireworks in the summer. (and the spring. fall. and winter.)


I love apple pie and McDonald's, but not McDonald's apple pies.

I love jazz.


Red, white, and blue look really good together.


I love this picture:

Last week, I watched this Ted Talk:



I don't think it's a secret that I love Jeopardy and this talk was right up my alley.  I especially love the quote that he shares by Samuel Parr: "It's always better to know a thing than not to know it."

I like to know things -- states and capitals, who won the Oscars, the order of the electromagnetic spectrum.  I'm coming to realize that there is power in knowing things, that I feel more capable and confident as I approach my world with things actually in my head, and not just at my fingertips.  Some of these things are trivial; they won't do much for me as far as application.  But knowledge proves to me that there is so much I don't understand, can't grasp--not yet, at least.  I guess I have to keep trying to know.

I saw Lincoln this weekend.  I'm not sure how to put into words what I think and feel about that film.  But I can pinpoint the thing that moved me most.

I loved it's kindness to history.  I mean, sometimes we look at historical figures as names, dates, and lists of accomplishments.  We treat Van Gogh or Oliver Cromwell or even Abraham Lincoln like they are playthings--dolls to be analyzed, critiqued, and scrutinized.

But they aren't.  They're flesh and blood with people who loved them.  They had their own demons, their flaws, their strengths.  It's time we thought about that side.  I'm not perfect at it yet, but sometimes I like to think about the person behind the list.  I imagine their inner hopes and fears.  I imagine their voices, their hands as they write the pages of history.  What right have I to say I know them completely?  I can glimpse their lives, but do no more than that.

And so it is time to be kind to the people we don't even know. We don't have to love their list of accomplishments, but we should remember that they are as real and complex as we are and they deserve our respect.

Caspar David Friedrich, Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog, 1818

I've been thinking about this post for a long time, and I've written drafts of it several times.  But each time, I chicken out and delete it.  So here it goes . . .

Do you ever have that moment when you realize that maybe you're not going to make it?

I love my major.  Every day, every reading assignment, every research paper I'm reminded that I definitely made the right decision.  I love knowing what happened, and I like the kind of person I am now that I know.  Studying history has completely changed my life.

But then, almost on a daily basis now, somebody asks me, "Oh, you're a history major?  Well what are you gonna do with that?" My insides clench and every ounce of gumption disappears.  My lungs suddenly seem restricted, and my heart sinks and pounds at the same time.  Then I tell them I want to do museum work, archiving, teaching.  They smile and walk away and I breathe a sigh of relief that it's over.  But a few hours later, when I'm working on an assignment, or in the quiet of my walk home from school, that fear creeps up again.  And a voice, a really awful voice in the back of my head says


Invariably tears follow (usually in public because that's how lucky I am) and a phone call to my mother ensues shortly thereafter.  And it hurts. A lot.  More than I should let it.  I get this vision of me ten or fifteen years down the road working in retail, or as a secretary. Dissatisfied. Not because they're bad jobs, they're just not what I want.

So I intend to work until I get what I want.

I love the word remember.  Isn't it beautiful that we can feel again what wee used to?  We can think about things and bring a new perspective.  At a funeral I went to a few years ago, one of the speakers made the comment, "it does us no good to think on the dead if we don't try to emulate them."  That has always stuck with me, and I think it has particular significance today as we remember September 11, 2001.

Today, I want to remember.  Remember the people who gave their lives for others.  Remember the people whose lives were taken without choice.  Remember the friends and family who have hurt and been healing.  Remember the stillness and solitude of the next morning.  Remember the flags appearing on mailboxes and the entire nation groaning with grief.  Remember the city skyline's reshaped.  Remember how grateful we are to live in the United States of America.  Remember your heroes and your loved ones.