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The Real Story Behind the Battle of Lexington and Concord 1775


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The events of April 19, 1775 were not very surprising.  For a good five years many Americans had been itching for just such a confrontation with England.  The “Boston Massacre,” the “Tea Party” were just a couple of the predictors of what was almost inevitable.  In some ways, it was surprising that the rebellion did not start at an earlier date.  There certainly had been enough incidents for one to have started.  The single biggest deterrent had been America’s leadership to show they were loyal to their king and their mother country, England.  Not only did they consider themselves as Americans, but as loyal Englishmen who had the same rights as their fellow countrymen who lived in England.  But that is exactly where the division happened.

By the mid-18th Century, England was an empire with the best navy in the world and arguably the best army in the world.  It was at this time that the idea of the sun never setting on the British Empire was coming into vogue.  British North America was by far its largest claim, although India was by far its most profitable.  Wealthy English merchants, who populated the House of Lords, and who had the ear of the king, regardless of who he was, jealously coveted their claims in the lands outside the British Isles.

With the exceptions of the Massachusetts Bay Colony and the Plymouth Colony, all of British North America were settled as mercantile interests.  Competing with these interests were the French, who the English despised, who had strongholds in Canada, the Ohio River Valley and the Mississippi delta.  The two countries seemed to be literally warring with each other for several hundred years.  The French were claiming much of the extremely profitable sugar cane areas of the Caribbean.  At the heart of this was not just sugar as a sweetener, but as the basis for molasses and rum, two things English merchants heavily desired.

In their desire to firmly control all they laid claim to, British merchants persuaded Parliament to pass a series of laws meant to protect their interests, the so-called Townsend Acts.  Passed in 1767, these acts were used to bring in line the already rebellious Americans, in particular those who lived in Massachusetts.  At the time, Massachusetts was a leading ship builder and, by default, heavily invested in the shipping industry.  At the heart of the Townsend Act was the revenue act, also known as the stamp tax.  Despite attempts by Britain to restrain trade of its colonies in North America to only England, and to require colonist to use English ships exclusively, Americans had ignored these dictates.  Their claim, as loyal Englishmen, as well as Americans, was they had an equal right to trade as their desired and without constraints not placed upon the merchants in England.

The destruction of the tea in the Boston Harbor was meant to be even more provocative than it was.  Its leader, Samuel Adams, cousin of John Adams, was the radical leader of the “Sons of Liberty.”  He would have been happy had war broken out right after the Boston Massacre.  Ironically, his cousin John gained prominence from this event as he served as defense counsel for the British Army lieutenant who was tried for murder.  John was shrewd and knew if Massachusetts were to stay in control of their courts, the courts had to be shown as a place where any man could count on a vigorous defense and expect a reasonable finding by the court.  Adams won his case.  The lieutenant was exonerated.  Unfortunately, a few years later the crown saw fit to seize control of the courts from the Americans along with control of the colony’s chief executive, the governor.  Duly elected governors were replaced by English governors general and martial law.

The colonists concern, at the time of the destruction of the tea in Boston’s harbor, was not that they had to pay a tax but “[they] thought it reasonable that the Colonies Should bear a part of the national Burden, as that they should share a part of the national Benefit . . . The Colonies soon found that the duties imposed . . . not only exceeded our Proportion, but beyond our utmost Ability to pay . . . We had always considered ourselves, as part of the British Empire.”  (New Hampshire Gazette; January 6, 1775) They were asserting themselves as citizens of England who did not receive the same consideration as those who lived in England.

In late 1774 England had denied the colonist the right to their own defense.  It made it illegal for the colonist to store guns and ammunition, black powder, in any central location.  General Thomas Gage, commander of the English Army, made forays to Taunton, Salem, Somerville, and Portsmouth to seize guns and powder being held at those locations.  At each instance, save the Somerville foray, his attempts were stymied by vigilant Americans who sent word ahead of Gage’s troops of his designs.

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General Thomas Gage

In January 1775, Lord Dartmouth, Secretary of State for America in London, in a letter to General Gage, said: “The violence committed by those who have taken up arms in Massachusetts have appeared to me as the acts of a rude rabble, without plan, without concert, without conduct, and therefore I think that a small force now, if put to the test, would be able to encounter them, with greater probability of success, then might be expected of a larger army, if the people should be suffered to form themselves upon a more regular plan.”

Boston, however, had become an armed camp with over 1000 troops camped on its common.  The tensions between the Bostonians and the soldiers was palpable.  Taunts were frequent but most Bostonians feared for the lives at Gen. Gage was the leader of the local government, and their health and welfare was at his pleasure.  But Gage was not entirely unsympathetic with the Americans given his marriage to Margaret Kemble, a native of New Jersey.

Massachusetts had retained a central government of its own even after the insertion of Gen. Gage as its governor.  The provincial government, as it was known, met in Watertown and Cambridge on a regular basis.  At its heart was the committee on defense.  This committee, supported by similar committees in every Massachusetts city and town, was responsible for the militia each town organized.  While technically illegal, Gen. Gage did nothing to stop their existence.  Gage’s formally trained, well-equipped troop of army regulars were the obvious superior to anything the colonists could assemble.  Each town in Massachusetts held elections to decide who its militia officers would be.  And while every man from 16 to 60 was required to be a member of this militia, their training was spotty, their weapons crude, and their leadership questionable.  The colony had absolutely no professional military men.

The citizens of Massachusetts had reason to believe that the British rule of provincial America was about to become more severe.  In the April 17, 1775 issue of the Boston Evening Post it was reported:

“Friday last the Nautilus . . . arrived here from England with Dispatches for his Excellency General Gage . . . [with] passengers . . . of his Majesties 17th Regiment of Light Dragoons; which, with the 35th, 49th, and 63rd Regiments of Foot, are said to be expected here soon.

Yesterday, the Falcon Sloop of War also arrived here from England.”

Also, on April 17, 1775, the newspaper the Boston Gazette reported:

“General Gage’s letters being read in the House of Commons, it appears from one of them it has been recommended to him by Lord Dartmouth to disarm some of the Colonies, which in his opinion, was not practicable until he was Master of the Country.”

From such accounts, colonists could only believe that all hopes of self-rule, which they demanded, was not in their immediate future.  The restraint with which John Adams and John Hancock had been able to effect was being overcome by events.  The peaceful resistance Massachusetts residents had long observed was in obvious jeopardy.

For obvious reasons, the one town which did not have an assembled militia was Boston.  But to make up for this, the citizens of Boston maintained a group of spies who watched every action made by the British regulars and reported back to the provincial government.  Oddly, we have no idea who any of these spies were but their existence is unquestionable as witnessed by the events of April 18 and 19, 1775.

On the afternoon of April 18, 1775, Lieutenant Colonel Francis Smith received orders from Gen. Gage to lead an expedition although he was not advised of the mission’s object nor destination.  Later that afternoon, British patrols were sent into the countryside to block messengers from alerting the countryside to the movements of British troops. It was just such a patrol that intercepted and captured Paul Revere.  That evening, after a British patrol, led by Major Edward Mitchell, passed through Lexington, provincial militia gathered at Buckman’s Tavern to safeguard John Adams and John Hancock.

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Col. Francis Smith

Word had gotten out that General Gage was planning to take the stores of guns and powder located in Concord.  What was not known was how he would effect his actions.  Boston, at the time, resembled the bulb of a flower with a long narrow strip of land, known as the neck, connecting it to the main land at Dorchester.  The British army had in its possession boats it could use to ford the Charles River at Charlestown, if it desired, to make such a move.  Or, an alternative, it could march down the neck and out through Watertown toward Concord.

The British troops, who had been assembling on Boston Common early that evening, were hungry, wet and cold that evening after a cool windy rain pushed through the area.

Notwithstanding Longfellow’s claim that one lantern meant they were coming by sea, that single lantern meant they were crossing the river.  In truth, we do not know if Revere saw the lantern in the North Church.  He left Boston around 11PM, rowed across the Charles River to Charlestown from where he started his famous ride.  All he told us is that his friend, Dr. Joseph Warren, who had sources inside the British camp, requested he ride to Lexington to warn Adams and Hancock of the British movements.  At the same time Revere’s friend, William Dawes, left Boston on horseback riding down “the neck” to the countryside.

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Joseph Warren                                                                   Paul Revere

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William Dawes

No one ever said “the British arm coming” because the colonists still considered themselves to be British and such a statement would have been nonsensical.  Like Revere and Dawes said “the lobster backs” or “the red coats” are coming.  Revere never made it to Concord as he was captured by the British army.  But in Lexington, around 1:30AM, near the Lincoln town line, Revere was captured by British regulars, Dawes narrowly escaping.  To their credit, they had enlisted Dr. Samuel Prescott to continue the ride with them and it was he who finally brought the alarm to Concord.  From Concord, a fourth rider rode to Worcester.

Each town in Massachusetts had its own alert system in the case of an emergency as was expected.  When Revere warned someone in Medford, for example, he took the alarm to Stoneham and that man to Reading and so forth.

In the very early hours of April 19 General Gage’s troops, 400 in all, boarded barges to cross the Charles River.  At the same time, however, Gage dispatched another 500 troops, at Col. Smith’s request, members of his artillery, to march down the neck and out to Concord.  Gage was attempting to maximize his chances of success.  The map below shows the route used by the British troops.

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For April, it was a warm and humid night.  This certainly set the tone for a long series of unpredictable events.  By 2 in the morning Revere and Dawes had made it to Lexington where Hancock and others were hold up.  The distance from Charlestown to Lexington, roughly 12 miles, could be covered in a matter of hours by Gage’s troops.  But it was 4:30 before the troops were in sight of Lexington center.  The Hancock and others had been gathered expectantly at Buckman’s Tavern.  During that time roughly 250 militia, Minute men, had also gathered on the green.

The British troops advanced at a slow rate and, Col. Smith aware and worried over that aspect, dispatched Major Pitcairn, of the Royal Marines, to secure the bridges that lay ahead.  Doubtless Smith was remembering an encounter at a bridge in Salem some months before that had stymied his attempts to secure guns and powder there.  Pitcairn ordered his men “on no account to fire, not even attempt it without orders.”  This order too buttresses the argument that it was the colonists, and not the British regulars, who fired the first shot.

The militia were a rag-tag group of questionable leadership and an unquestionable lack of discipline.  Conversely, the British regulars marched to the green in a tight formation headed by Colonel Smith, a career officer.  It is important to note that the 400 British regulars matched the entire population in size of the town of Lexington.  This sight, with the 77 militia assembled, was a scary force to behold for the residents and the militia.  No one, on either side, knew what to expect.  But this assemblage, for the first time, pitted a significant colonial force against the crown.

As the two forces faced each other, the British regulars at staunch attention versus the militia who, though of fair size, lacked any semblance of military aptitude.  British Major Pitcairn orders the militia to disperse upon his arrival at the green.  Captain Parker, commander of the militia and a combat veteran, realized he necessarily needed to follow this order and told his men to disperse.  Prior to that, Parker had ordered his men to not fire upon the British troops except in self-defense.  But as they were doing so the infamous “shot heard round the world” rang out.  Given the high state of discipline displayed by the British regulars, it is likely that the shot came from one of the colonists.  In the end, 8 colonists lay dead while only a single British troop was wounded.  This did not bode well for the colonists.  How these minute men, at close range, did not score a single hit of any sort makes you wonder why they would even consider continuing the fight.  But their retreat from Lexington was just as much an advance to Concord where they reassembled and took on the British.

Col. Smith arrived in Lexington after the skirmish and was horrified by what he viewed as a breakdown of discipline.  He absolutely did not desire to engage the colonists at any point during his trip to Concord.

What the colonists at Lexington did not know was that the 400 troops they faced there were about to grow to 700 as Brigadier Lord Percy’s brigade was about to meet up with Col. Smith’s soldiers.

The weather, early that day, had the temperature a coolish 45 degrees, a typical New England day.  It was a clear breezy day that hid the heat which would envelope these British soldiers in their wool uniforms later in the day.

At about 7AM Col. Smith’s troops reached Concord.  From Lexington his troops had marched in battle formation, and in plain sight of the provincial militia who marched parallel to them with fifes and drums playing.  Smith had two objectives: destroy the weapons stored there and then eat breakfast.

Just a few miles from Concord center, in the town of Lincoln, 200 militia attacked Col. Smith’s advancing troops.  These were men from the towns of Bedford and Lincoln.  These men, sitting on either side of the road, caught the British in a cross-fire.

In Concord, the provincial militia waiting there, under the command of Col. James Barrett, withdrew to the heights overlooking the North Bridge and waited for reinforcements to arrive.  From their vantage point, the provincial troops could not see the movements of the British troops.  When they saw smoke rising from the town they assumed the British were burning homes and moved from the hill to attack the British.  In fact, the British had simply lit a fire to burn to dispose of some military equipment.

The few troops the provincials first encountered quickly retreated back to the center of town where they all waited for the expected reinforcements.  But at some time after 9AM, the British commander decided to leave Concord.  At the time, the skirmishes between the two sides had gained nothing for either side.  The British commander likely felt it prudent to return to Boston before anything more serious happened.  In past skirmishes, British troops were allowed to return to the city unmolested.

The colonists had other ideas, however, and took to attacking the retreating British troops from the relatively secure positions astride the road.  The British commanders were outraged by these tactics.  They did not view the Americans as being real soldiers.

As the day progressed, however, the colonists’ lack of military training started to play in their favor.  The British regulars had a very particular way of marching and of fighting.  The idea of guerrilla warfare, a rather new concept, was not a part of the British military lexicon.  It was their belief that two forces stood opposing each other and commenced the battle in their set positions.  One would fire upon the other until victory or defeat was realized.

return to boston

By the time the British reached Merriam’s Corner, about a mile from town and site of the earlier skirmish, about 1100 provincials have gathered and snipe the British troops.  Smith knew the provincials were moving to block his retreat put his grenadiers and light soldiers on the road first to guard against ambushes.  Even so, Smith’s column is under almost continuous attack.  Still, Smith was able to maintain control over his troops.  But at about 2:30PM his troops are ambushed at Fiske Hill.  Smith is wounded and some of his regulars break ranks and run.

At about 3PM Smith’s troops meet up with 900 reinforcements some of whom are Percy’s artillery.  Percy’s artillery is able to break up the closest provincial troops.  Percy takes on a scorched earth policy and burns houses of suspected snipers.  Percy’s men, however, left Boston with only 36 rounds of ammunition each, far less than needed to execute proper military maneuvers.

Around 4:30PM Percy’s troops reach Menotomy, today’s Arlington, where the day’s bloodiest fighting occurred.  Discipline among the British troops had broken down as they looted, pillaged, and burned homes.

The provincial troops that gathered in Menotomy had largely seen no fighting earlier in the day.  They were the minutemen who came from Medford, Cambridge, and Watertown.  They convened at the crossroads in Menotomy center and awaited the British troops, looking down the Lexington Road.  By this time the day’s temperature was in the mid-80s and it was humid.  The retreating British troops had marched the 20 miles out to Concord and then back without food or much rest.

When the British finally reach Charlestown, it takes three hours to move the troops back across the Charles River to the safety of Boston.  Most had neither eaten nor slept in two days.

At the end of the day, of the approximately 1400 British troops engaged in action, 73 were killed, 174 were wounded, and 26 were reported missing.  Of the 4000 American militia who were engaged, 49 were killed, 39 were wounded, and 4 were missing.

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A Tale of Susannah — Desperately Seeking Sanity


At 31 Susannah had it all.  She was beautiful, a tall woman with long naturally curly auburn hair, beautiful wide-set eyes, and a smile that immediately engaged anyone towards whom it was directed.  She had graduated from Wellesley College magna cum laude and at the delicate age of 20.  From there she continued her education within the ivy covered walls of Harvard University.  She was not contented with being good.  At Harvard she had become editor of the law review after a summer clerking for a justice at the Massachusetts Supreme Court.  And at the age of 23, on a particular hot day in early June, she joined 6500 other students in the Harvard Yard to receive her doctor of jurisprudence.  And that, a day that should have been the culmination of her greatest success, seemed, at least to Susannah, a sad day, if not a failure of a day.

That early Thursday morning as she and her fellow law students gathered in one of the law buildings, started as a grand day for Susannah.  Her mother had promised to phone her as soon as she and her father found their seats with the other 10,000 guests who crowded the college’s gates at 7 that morning.  It was just before 8 and her mother had no yet called so Susannah called her.  After her mother answered, and when they had briefly chatted, Susannah had asked her mother to put “daddy” on.  Her mother went quiet, mumbled a bit, and then told Susannah that her father had “not been able to make it.”

It was at that moment Susannah questioned her entire life up to that moment.  She had spent her entire life thus far desperately trying to please her father.  He had always said how proud he was of her.  She thought back to how he had seldom been able to attend her basketball games when she was in high school, how he had been suddenly “called away” when she had graduated from both high school and Wellesley, and now this.  Her first instinct was to say “screw this” and leave the ceremony even before it started.   But she did love her mother and even as angry as she was with her father, she would not spoil the day for her mother.

But at that moment Susannah took mental leave from the morning’s ceremonies.  She did not hear Harvard’s president’s message or that of any of the other speakers of the day.  Instead she formulated a plan for her immediate future.  She had been offered, and accepted, a position as an associate at the 2nd largest law firm in New York.  Before 9 that morning she not only no longer wanted the position, she despised the idea of working for corporate America at any level.  But at her father’s insistence she had considered her future using that track and her personal doubts not withstanding, she knew she could succeed in that culture.  But it had not been what she wanted.  It was what her father wanted, and now all that was counterfeit.

It was Thursday, that graduation day, and Susannah promised herself that by the end of the next day she would not only resign her position in New York, but she would find a suitable replacement in Boston.  She decided that the suitable replacement job would be at the public defender’s office.  And that is exactly what she did.  The woman who ran the PD’s office, after a quick review of Susannah’s credentials and the incredulity she felt about Susannah’s seriousness for wanting the job, took her on, happily.

Her first year in the practice of law saw her succeed far beyond what her employer could have hoped.  In the process, Susannah had ingratiated herself to all she came in contact with.  Her boss had on any number of occasions suggested she talk to the partners who visited the sparse PD’s office seeking to hire Susannah away.  But she rebuffed all advances, never accepting a single interview, and seldom even seeing the partner who had ventured to see her.  She claimed, though her boss assured her she was wrong, that the hours for the PD’s office were far friendlier than any could expect at a top law firm.  And certainly there was far less pressure in the job.  Susannah obstinanancy became legendary in both her office and the legal community.  And not just because of her resisting being recruited, but her dogged determination before the bar.  She was oft heard to say that failure was unacceptable, never allowing that it was in fact inevitable.

On this morning, some eight years later, as Susannah awoke in her bed, and after she noticed the throbbing headache, she wondered, for the millionth time, why she was not happy.  She came from a well-to-do family that, at least on the outside, looked like they had it all.  She knew she was a pretty woman, although she doubted any man who described her as gorgeous, which she found curious at the regularity that such compliments happened.  She had long ago decided that such men wanted one thing and one thing only.  She knew they did not desire her for her mind.  And to that end, she had long ago decided that the only men she would go out with would be the ones she chose and never ones who chose her.

At that moment it hit her.  She needed a job, and that was the plan for the day, to find a new position.  She remembered how her job at the PD’s office had ended badly when she had failed to show at a 9AM bail hearing.  The defendant, a man who her boss felt had a strong case, had been remanded to jail and denied bail.  Susannah had apologized profusely to her boss explaining that an emergency the night before had kept her up quite late and she had slept through her alarm.  It was not a true story, but it was the best she could come up with at the moment.  Her boss, however, having heard one too many such excuses over the years, asked Susannah that she clean out her office that day.

Susannah had recovered well from that setback, she thought, as she landed a new job that same day at a fairly large law firm that specialized in tort claims.  When friends heard of this new job the questioned her working for an “ambulance chaser” but Susannah had vigorously defended the position noting that everyone was entitled to protection from unscrupulous insurance companies, companies who denied their employees worker’s compensation for disabilities incurred on the job.  She lasted there a little over two years and left, she always laughed to herself about this, when the firm refused to pay her disability after she had injured herself at the office one day, and tore her ACL in the process which kept her laid up for over a month.  The firm had let her go “for cause,” they said.   And while Susannah had admitted to having had a drink with her lunch that day, she categorically denied that she had been gone for nearly two hours and had returned to the office drunk.  But upon the advice of “her attorney,” she did not press or pursue the issue.

That had been her last job as a lawyer, and that had been almost two years ago.  She told her friends that the bad economy affected lawyers just like any other field, and that she was actively pursuing a promising job at a prestigious firm.  The truth was, there was no firm.  There were not even any prospects.  She was at present employed as a waitress at the Four Seasons Hotel restaurant in Boston’s posh Back Bay., and that had been almost two years ago.  She told her friends that the bad economy affected lawyers just like any other field, and that she was actively pursuing a promising job at a prestigious firm.  The truth was, there was no firm.  There were not even any prospects.  She was at present employed as a waitress at the Four Seasons Hotel restaurant in Boston’s posh Back Bay.  When her friends question her about this job, she claimed that she was seriously considering a job as a chef, and that it was something she had long considered doing.  But she had also told them she had long considered becoming a legal consultant, a software developer for law firms, and fifteen other jobs all of which were plausible, given her intelligence and education, but none of which had ever been something she had truly considered, or even wanted.

As these and other thoughts raced through her mind, her headache racked mind that morning, she tried to remember her plan for the day.  And when nothing came immediately to mind she rolled over to stroke her cat who invariably slept with her, only to find a man occupying the space her cat should have been in.  For a moment she could not for the life of her think of who this man was, and then she remember the night before, and in that memory came the reason for the horrendous headache.  She remembered the bar, the crush of other young people just like her, who were fully enjoying themselves.  She remembered going to the ladies room where she was startled to see a woman snorting a line of coke.  It had briefly shocked her, but she had not moved, and when the other woman took notice of her, had offered her a line of coke.  Susannah had never done cocaine but she had said to herself “what the hell” and tried it.  The tipsiness she had been feeling was immediately transformed into an alertness she loved.  And she had returned to the bar and renewed her effort to enjoy the evening and join in everyone’s festivities.  But she could not remember this man at that bar, or for that matter, ever having left the bar and what had happened afterward.

The thought immediately went through her mind, “never again!”  She promised herself right there and then that she would not drink that day and that she would hence force control her drinking so that incidents such as she was presently experiencing, would never again happen.  This was not the first time she had awakened next to such a man, nor the second or even the third, but she promised herself it absolutely would be the last.  She knew she was more than smart enough to overcome her present condition and all she had to do was resolve to herself to never drink like that again.  Or at least never touch cocaine again because, after all, that had been the agent that had allowed her to drink more than even she thought she could.

Susannah poked the man next to her.  She desperately wanted him out of her apartment.  He had been lying there with his back to her and when he turned towards her, she saw a man who was easily her father’s age.  At that moment she thought, “Oh God, not again.”  But her greatest surprise was yet to come.  When she asked the man to leave so she could start her day, he had informed her that she was in his apartment and any leaving that must be done would be on her part.  And that was followed by the information that not only was she not in Boston, but she was actually in one of the remote suburbs and the man had said he could not possibly take her back into town as he had to get to work himself.

It took seven phone calls to various friends before she found someone who was willing, though not happy, to retrieve her from her inconvenience.  On the drive home her friend, Sarah, had suggested to Susannah that she might have a drinking problem and that she might consider attending a 12 step meeting.  But Susannah had assured Sarah that she did not have any sort of a drinking problem, that she could stop anytime she wanted, and besides, she was just 31 years old and everyone knew you cannot be an alcoholic at so tender an age.

As soon as she got home Susannah surveyed her apartment.  Sure it was a studio apartment in Boston’s South End but it was “nice.”  What is lacked for direct sun light it more than made up for in character.  After she had showered she decided to make a plan to find a job that day, or within the week at least, that was worthy of her extensive talents.  Yes, she told herself, she did have extensive talents and any company would be lucky to have her.

As the morning turned to afternoon, a Susannah considered her lunch options as he looked over her refrigerator, she noted the half-full bottle of wine sitting next to the milk.

This time when Susannah woke up she immediately knew by the hardness of the bed that she was not in her apartment.  But when she turned over her relief that she was alone in the bed was immediately replaced by the stark realization of where she was, in a hospital bed.  It was at that moment that a nurse entered her room and said how nice it was that Susannah was awake as she had a number of questions for her.  It was the first question that most unnerved Susannah, however.  The nurse had inquired as to her name.  Noting Susannah confusion, the nurse explained that she had been brought into the emergency room without any sort of identification on her person.  She had wandered into the ER and had promptly collapsed.  She had remained unconscious since.

But then Susannah noted she was attached to an i.v. and a heart monitor and queried the nurse why this had been necessary.  The nurse related, to Susannah’s horror, that she had suffered heart failure.  She told Susannah, in an extremely matter-of-fact tone, that such things happened to alcoholics, even young ones.  Susannah responded by denying that she had any sort of an alcohol problem.  The nurse simply replied by telling Susannah to rest.

About an hour later the attending physician stopped by Susannah’s room to see how she was doing.  She suggested to Susannah that she might do well to go to a detox upon her discharge from the hospital.  This time when Susannah informed the doctor that she did not have a drinking problem she heard the doctor say words she found hard to believe.  The doctor, a woman about her own age, and certainly very good looking, informed Susannah that she was an alcoholic.  Susannah had responded by questioning how a young and obviously very successful doctor could possibly be an alcoholic.

The doctor had given, in Susannah’s mind, a most unacceptable response by saying that how she would be an alcoholic was irrelevant.  What was relevant was the fact that she could not drink in safety.  That when she took a single drink she never knew where that drink would lead.  But it was the final admission by the doctor that most surprised her.  The doctor related that not only had she suffered through a failed marriage because of her drinking, but that her license to practice medicine had been temporarily suspended and she had lost custody of her two children.

For Susannah, this was just the beginning but unfortunately it was not the end.

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Sophia’ Sunday — Epilogue


While the character of Sophia in this story is fictional, the setting is based on historical fact.  The city in the story is Lawrence Massachusetts.  The strike referred to is sometimes called the “Bread and Roses” strike.  It was a strike of all of Lawrence’s textile workers from January 11, 1912 to March 15, 1912.

The strike started because worker’s wages were reduced after the state mandated a reduction in the maximum working hours per week of women and children.  The hours were reduced from 56 to 54.  The worker’s had requested of the mill owners that this reduction in hours would not affect their weekly wage.  At the time, the average weekly wage for 56 hours of work was less than $7.  That is not an error.  It was $7 a week, not $7 a day.  Lawrence, known as immigrant city, was basically a single industry town, textiles, with the textile mills employing upwards of 40,000 people, or a little less than half the entire population of the city of Lawrence!

The “old immigrants” of Lawrence, Germans, English, Scot, and French Canadian, were giving way to the new immigrants, primarily Italian and Polish, but also there were Russians, Belgians, Syrians, and Armenians.  These new, and unskilled, immigrants provided the largest portion of the textile labor in the city.  Their working hours fluctuated greatly, and they never knew from one day to the next if they would be working.  Layoffs were extremely common, and when small strikes happened, mill owner usually just replaced the striking workers with other workers.  Only 25% of all strikes in America at the time were even marginally successful.

The plight of these workers came into national view when in mid-February over 120 children were sent from Lawrence to New York City where surrogate families had volunteered to take those children who had suffered the greatest.  Margaret Sanger, the famed birth-control advocate of the day, had visited Lawrence at the beginning of the strike and was at Grand Central Station in New York to meet the children when they arrived.  The socialist movement of New York marched the children down 5th Avenue where all could see.  Sanger later commented on the condition of the children they received.  Sanger, a trained nurse, claimed all were suffering from severe malnutrition, and many were so poorly dressed that they were not even wearing undergarments.  This so incited the American people that a cry went out for a congressional hearing.  President Howard Taft’s wife, Helen, urged her husband to take action.  The here-to-fore Taft, a friend of industrialists, ordered the House of Representatives to convene an investigation which it did.

At a hearing of that house committee, more than half those interviewed from Lawrence were young people between the ages of 13 and 18.  All had worked in the mills and related both their working conditions and living conditions to the members of Congress.  At the time the minimum working age in Massachusetts was 14 which also had an education requirement attached.  The young people attested that such requirements were easily circumvented by bribing local officials.  They stated that their working was an absolute necessity for the survival of their family.

An investigation by the “White Commission” of Lawrence in 1912 revealed that portions of Lawrence were even more densely populated than the most populous portions of New York City, a startling revelation.  Those conditions were accompanied by poor sanitation, extremely poor public health measures that resulted in the spread of diseases like dysentery, tuberculosis, and other maladies commonly found among the malnourished.

The strike in Lawrence was revolutionary in that it was the largest strike of a single industry in a single city ever in the United States.  At any one time during the two plus months of the strike, as many as 30,000 people were on strike.  It became the blueprint for unions on how to run a successful strike in the years to come.

Throughout the strike there was a constant struggle between the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) and the American Federation of Labor (AFL) for the hearts and stomachs of the affected.  Prior to that strike, however, the AFL had made it quite clear it was only interested in a membership of skilled male textile workers, a fairly small portion of the entire workforce.  Conversely, the IWW used their “big tent” format for including all operatives, regardless of job or gender, for inclusion in their membership.  At least for the period of the strike, the IWW easily won that battle.  However, they were never able to gain even as many as 1000 workers as dues paying members.  When the strike ended, the socialist IWW went back into disfavor, and the AFL went back to desiring only skilled labor.

But the IWW succeeded with this strike where most previous strikes had failed.  It was unusual in America for any strike to last more than 10 days.  Even the largest of strikes, 1000 or more workers, usually ended to the favor of the industrialists.  Strikes were frequently violent, particularly when the IWW was involved.  The socialist IWW attracted America’s radicals of the day, many of whom were self-declared anarchists.  The American memory of that day was still fresh with the assassination of President William McKinley by a professed anarchist.  William “Big Bill” Haywood, leader of the IWW, had previously been at the forefront of the Western Mine Workers who had in previous years had a number of violent clashes in Colorado.  Haywood had been indicted and tried for the murder of Governor Frank Steunenberg of Idaho.  Although Haywood in fact had had nothing to do with the murder, a reputation for violent confrontation followed him the rest of his life.  And when he arrived in Lawrence two days after the beginning of that city’s strike, the city fathers feared that violence could not be far off.

The Lawrence strike, however, was not headed by Haywood, but rather by a man who was a poet by trade, and secretary of the IWW office in New York City, Joseph James Ettor.  Ettor was a soften spoken, baby-faced man who endeared himself to his audiences.  From the start of the Lawrence strike he constantly urged his follower to remain peaceful at all costs.  Throughout the entirety of the strike there had not been a single all out riot, although there had been a few confrontations that could easily have descended into an all out riot.  Only 3 strikers died by such confrontations, at least one of which was an obvious case of manslaughter at the least, but no one was ever taken to court over these deaths, and the was little investigation done by the police department.

The mill owners, and William M. Wood in particular, head of the huge American Woolen Company which owned six of the mills involved in the strike, felt certain they could wait out the strike without  having to make a single concession to the strikers.  But in late February when young mothers in Lawrence were arrested and taken to jail, some with babies in their arms, the public attitude towards the strikers changed markedly.  It become more and more apparent that the industrialists claims that the strike was a movement by a subversive and un-American element, was simply a falsehood.  But even more, merchants whose livelihood depended upon the business the strikers brought them was impacted.  A solution had to be found.

All the powers of Massachusetts, Governor Eugene Foss, Senator Calvin Coolidge, Cardinal O’Connell, who had adamantly opposed the strike at its beginning, moved for a quick reconciliation by the time March rolled around.  The conditions over the average worker had been spelled out in great detail by newspapers like the Boston Globe and the New York Times, and the industrialists found themselves in a no-win situation.

When the strike ended on March 15, four of the five demands made by the strikers were met in full.  They had demanded, and gotten, a 15% pay raise.  But even more importantly, they had shown the world how to conduct a successful, and peaceful, strike.  A few days after the end of the Lawrence strike, the textile mills of Lowell Massachusetts, who employed equally as many people as did Lawrence, went on strike.  That strike was settled relatively quickly.  A year later the silk industry of Paterson New Jersey, a fairly large industry at the time, went on strike and it too used Lawrence’s methods to a successful conclusion.

What most importantly came out of the Lawrence strike was first the living conditions of the average mill operative in American cities.

American Linen Co Cleaner - Spinning room Fall River, Ma

children on spinnerRhodes Mfg. Co., Lincolnton, N.C. Spinner 1908

Images such as those above were printed in newspapers across the United States.  The federal government realized that state laws protecting children were largely ineffective, ambiguous, or non-existent.  A minimum working age of 12 was common in the southern states while pictures such as those above belied that such laws were being followed.

The federal government, in the several years following the Lawrence strike, enacted a series of child-labor laws, minimum wage laws, and even a few laws governing working conditions, although these laws stayed very weak until the 1950s.

The location of “Sophia” in my story was on Common Street in Lawrence.  On a single block there were a good number of three and four story tenaments which housed anywhere from 50 to 80 people in a single building!  Although such building generally housed a single ethnic group, it was common that a house full of Poles would be neighbor to a house of Italian or Armenians or some of the older, yet equally poor, Irish and English.  The plight of these workers is detailed in works such as “Huddle Fever” by Jeanne Schinto, “Twenty Years at Hull House” by Jane Addams, and in the case of Lawrence, “Bread and Roses: Mills, Migrants, and he Struggle for the American Dream” by Bruce Watson.

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Sophia’s Sunday — Part 2


The Andreotti’s had moved in next door to them early at the beginning of the previous summer.  Sophia’s father was suspicious of them.  He said he did not trust Italians but when pressed on the issue he could offer no cogent argument, only that it was “well-known” that Italians were not to be trusted.  When Sophia asked why, if that was the case, that it was all right for them to attend the Italian Catholic church down the street, her father had dismissed the question in a huff saying children should not question their parents.  He did that a lot when she brought up any subject which might be thought of as being uncomfortable.  While her mother was more pliable, she seldom went against what her husband proclaimed to be the truth.  And if you asked the question a second time, no matter how well you reworded it, he raised his voice a little higher until she recognized the fruitless nature of her inquiry.

Sophia reflected on her neighborhood that cold January morning.  That was unusual because she seldom had time for her own thoughts once she awoke to the new day.  This day, however, was not a usual day in any respect.  It was not just that it was a Sunday and no one worked on Sundays.  But that there was no prospect of work for anyone in the family for the foreseeable future, and that had trouble all of them.  They had suffered through times of low employment when one or two of the family was out of work.  But this time was different.  This time they were all out of work, food was low, money was lower, and the winter was just reaching its chilling heights.

Sophia reflected back to her life in Poland, just six short years ago.  They had been extremely poor then too, but they always had friends and family to help them through even the most difficult of times.  Now, most of her family surrounded her in this small apartment.  They had no actual relatives in the city, as they had claimed.  Her “uncle” had actually been an acquaintance of her father’s from Poland who had written to his brother.  That brother had talked rather glowingly of America and its promise.  Her father, a headstrong man, had always believed he deserved more than he had gotten, and this word of a better life in America had been virtually all he needed to hear.  Then, about a year before they left Poland, her father had seen a representative, from one of the American mills, talking to some men in Krakow, where he had gone to find some replacement tools for the farm.  The man had said how America longed for the Polish immigrant to work there, and that they were paid handsomely for their toil.  When her father had asked how much, the representative had instantly responded that they lived like kings.  The reference to royalty was met with amazement and disbelief, but it was a tale oft retold in many eastern and southern European towns.  He had heard such “gossip” before and dismissed it as idle talk, but here, right before him, was an American recruiting for those very mills and saying exactly what had before only been rumor.  It was all he needed.

But Sophia was comparing her small village in Poland with the city in which she now lived.  In Poland you knew everyone, and had an opinion about everyone.  Each person knew his place, and that place had a certain respect within the community.  Her father had been very well-respected for his extremely hard work at maintaining a good farm and for generously helping others in their time of need.  Now was their time of need, but here, in America, you knowledge of your neighbors was limited by where you went to church, where you worked, and most importantly, your ethnicity.  When they arrived it was thought they would be living in a Polish neighborhood in their new city.  But that had not been the case.  On her street alone along with the Polish were Italians, Russians, Scots, a few French Canadians, and Armenians.  Their backgrounds were about as diverse as one could imagine.  And their lack of a common native tongue further inhibited them.

When they first arrived they were introduced to their Polish neighbors, who numbered few, and were shown where they could buy their kielbasa, when they could afford it, turnips, cabbage, and get it on credit if need be.  They were also made aware of whom to avoid.  The Poles were always suspect of Russians even though they were of the same background.  You did not go to Warchovsky’s grocery because not only was he a Russian but a Jew, and who could trust them.  That’s what they were told at least.  Sophia had learned much of her English for a Polish Jew who told her that they were not so different from the Russian Jews, so how could that be bad.  Sophia had found work quickly in the closest mill as a mender, one of the better paying jobs, and a job generally assigned to just women.  The women at her mill, mostly Polish but some Italians, were given to gossiping about everything but as she listened Sophia learned that the old world mistrusts did not translate well in this new world, and most importantly, that they were “all in it together,” whatever that meant.  It did not take her long to find out that it meant it was them against the floor bosses who assigned work.  If you did not please such a boss, you might find yourself being laid off and another taking you place in just a day.

At that moment Sophia noticed the emptiness of her stomach.  It ached.  She knew breakfast would be some bread covered with molasses.  It was not very filling but it took the edge off her hunger.  When they had first arrived Sophia and her family looked like well-fed country stock.  She had been a bit of a big girl back then but the constant battle against hunger had depleted her body that it seemed to her she was forever taking in her dresses just so they would fit better.  Sophia had been a seamstress in Poland when they left, and her clothing had been relatively new and always in good condition.  That had all changed, and many was the day that she was simply choosing between the least threadbare garments she owned.  And winter only made things worst. Her one overcoat, though made of wool, failed to keep out the cold for any length of time.  They few times she had had to work across the river at a more distant mill in the winter, she had wished she had the five cent trolley fare.  By the time she made it to work, even when she rushed as best she could, she was always shivering.

As she thought of breakfast she longed for the days when her mother’s fesh-baked bapke and fruit pierogi started her day.  They had enjoyed none of that since they arrived in America.  And their was no Polish baker to provide their favorites.  Mostly the grocers and bakers were Italian and Syian.  But her father had assured her that their present condition, six years previous, was merely temporary, and that soon her mother would be making “babci’s” (grandmother) favorites.  She longed for her babci but knew she would probably never see her again.

At home, here in America, everyone still spoke only Polish.  Her brothers had all learned pretty good English, but her mother and father spoke very stilted, and heavily accented, English.  Her father, it seems to Sophia, was worst of all.  He had a stubborn streak a mile wide.  As much as he need to learn English, he resisted it so much that she frequently had to go with him when he needed to buy something in particular from someone who did not speak Polish.  Her father’s English was so bad that certain of the neighborhood men spoke poorly of him in his own presence without fear of his knowing what they were saying.  It was only Sohpia’s scornful looks that stopped such talk.  When her father noticed this he’d ask what had transpired, and to protect her father, Sophia had become very adept at making up a story to fit the situation so as not to upset her father.  She adored and idolized her father, though he made her crazy many times with his stubbornness and pronouncements.  When such things were talked about among other Polish people, they would universally agree that it was in their nature to be that way.  They were a proud people, and they let their pride show whenever the chance afforded them.  They all belongs to the Polish-American club down the street where these claims were justified on a regular basis.

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Sophia’s Sunday


It was January 21, a Sunday, and Sophia did not have to work today.  But then it had been 10 days since she last worked, and the prospects were grim.  She arose at 5:30 that morning, just like she had every morning.  Her sister, Elizabeth, was snoring lightly in the bed next to her.  Elizabeth was 10 years younger and had just started working.  On a mattress next to her were her brothers Januz, Frank, and Thaduez.  They ranged in age from 11, Januz, and 12, Frank, to 17 Thaduez.  On a third mattress to himself was Walter, a strapping young man of 20.  As the eldest child it had fallen to Sophia to rouse her brothers each morning and prepare breakfast for them.  This was a tradition they had brought with them from when they had lived in Przybyslawice Poland, a village not far from Krakow.  They had left Poland in 1906 when Sophia’s mother and father had feared their sons would be conscripted into the Czar’s army.

Sophia’s parents had saved as much as they could, and when they felt they had to leave, they sold their farm to an aunt and uncle who said they wanted to move from the city of Katowice to get away from the constant noise and unhealthy air of the city.  Sophia suspected they had bought the farm for far less than it was worth preying on her father’s need for cash to buy passage to America.  They arrived at the port of Boston with slightly less than $100, and claimed to the immigration official that they would be living with her father’s brother.  That was curious as her father was the only boy in a family of seven children, but they were related to the man, though distantly, and reasoned that it was God’s will they use this falsehood to gain admission.  Her parents had not known that giving any name and address would have sufficed.  The port officials knew these immigrants would help fill positions, extremely low and ill-paying, that drove the American economy.

Sunday meant church.   The Polish community was trying to set up its own ethnic church in the city, but until it did they all attended mass at the Italian Catholic church just down the street.  When Sophia question the necessity of building a Polish church when a perfectly good Italian church was only a block away, her mother chastised her and instructed her as to the necessity of retaining their culture in this alien nation.

Sunday also meant they would have meat in their meal that day, probably pork shoulder, along with turnip and cabbage.  It took the combined pay of everyone who worked to ensure that meal but Sophia knew this day would be meatless.  No one had worked the last ten days which meant meat was a luxury they could not afford.  Sophia wondered what the big meal of the day would be, or even if it would be.  She had overheard her father speaking to her mother the evening before saying he would have trouble meeting rent, let alone buy food.  She had heard such desperate words before, but always before at least one of them was still working.  That simply was not the case this Sunday.

As Sophia attempted to survey the room around her in the near darkness surrounding them, she wondered what they day truly held.  It was at that same moment she noticed how cold her nose felt and she wondered what the temperature outside was.  They had been suffering through a particularly cold spell.  The windows of their small apartment did little to keep the drafts at bay.  In Poland they had always had a good supply of wood to keep the fireplace burning high even on the coldest of nights.  They also had a good supply of down quilts with which to keep warm when the winds blew strong.  But then they seemed to have some control over their living conditions, something they no longer had.  Each day the younger of her brothers were tasked with finding errant coal at the coal bins around the city, and particularly at the rail yards.  Their task was a tough one as they competed with other children on the same mission, each hoping to find what another had not.  Mostly it was futile and they would scavenge scraps of wood.

Sophia hated getting up on mornings such as this.  The cold cut through to her bones.  The routine of washing up quickly and dressing went more quickly in the cold of such mornings.  The small coal stove in the kitchen would take its time heating just the kitchen, let alone any of the other rooms.  While her mother tended to her younger siblings, Sophia was charged with getting the stove going.

As she lay their, Sophia wondered what other girls her age did on Sunday mornings.  Not the girls of the city, like herself, but the girls who lived in the more affluent towns surrounding her city.  Did they have to rise early too?  She reminded herself that on Sunday she could get up an hour later than her usual 5:30.  That always felt a bit luxurious.  But were other girls required to take care of their siblings as she was?  She wondered how many of their siblings had to share a bed and a bedroom.  Then her mind wandered  back to wondering why they had ever left Poland.  She had never known anyone who had been conscripted into the Czar’s army.  Maybe it was all just a rumor, she thought, and if they had waited a little longer as her father had implored her mother the troubling news would have passed without adverse affect.

Once out of bed she turned on the single overhead light and attempted to rouse her brothers from their sleep.  This was always a difficult task as they always resisted her attempts, particularly on Sundays when their presence at the mill was not necessary.  Her attempts on this particular Sunday proved to be particularly futile and Sophia gave up quickly.  Her mind was elsewhere, though she could not seem to nail it down to any particularly place, she felt no motivation to continue her morning task.  She looked out the dirty window of her second story bedroom at the apartment directly next to them.  She could see into their bedroom when the shades were pulled, which they usually were not.  The family in that apartment was the Andreottis who, she thought, were louder than her own loud family but fun and extremely friendly.

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A Few Words of Advice to Gen Y From a Baby Boomer


One thing having lived a lot of years does for you, it gives you a ton of perspective.  Here are a few things I have learned along the way, only too often the hard way.

1.  Marry your best friend — That’s right!  The guy or woman you want is your best friend.  Marriages generally end over three things, money, trust, and communication.  Consider, that person you consider your best friend is a person you would hate to lie to, would trust with your life, and will tell pretty much everything.  And that is exactly the type of person, if not the person you want to marry.

(January 4, 2013 amendment)  A response I received to this section of this post, though maybe given a bit tongue-in-cheek, did none-the-less give me pause to think I had been less than clear, and that there is more to say.

From experience I known people say “we are just friends” and by extension say “why would I want to ruin a good friendship.”  The backdrop to such statements is the consideration of dating such a person, and that dating a friend might ruin a good friendship that you value.  I am asserting that such a belief is absolutely wrong.

If you are a woman and have some really good friends who are male, one of them may well be your best match as a partner in life, as a spouse.  The same is true for guys who might consider one of their best female friends.  My wife is also my best friend, and because of that I believe that it is the best combination possible.  Dating a friend cannot ruin a good friendship because real friends stay with you regardless of events.  If you truly are friends, dating such a person and then finding out the romantic feelings you need just are there should in no way hinder you from going back to being really good friends.  If anything, such an experience should only strengthen such a friendship.

2.  Make a career out of what thrills you — Our society sadly places a lot of emphasis on how much a person earns.  The thing is, what most of us want the most is happiness.  And that leads to the question of how happy can you be when you are making a ton of money in a job you hate?  At some point you burn out and start asking yourself why it was you got into that profession in the first place.  You ask yourself if it was really worth it.  When the time comes you can consider retirement, you should find it almost unthinkable as continuing in your chosen profession still thrills you.

3. Resolve all family issues — I have this saying, “all families are crazy, it’s just a matter of degree.”  I really believe that.  We only get one set of parents and they are gone too often too early.  My father died right before my 21st birthday, and I had so much left to say to him and talk to him about.  When my mother died, she was 89, I felt there was nothing I had left unsaid, and that felt really good.  You can pick your friends but you cannot pick your relatives.  That is not to say you have to be on good terms with all your relatives, but it is good to remember that the ones you would rather not see probably have no knowledge of your feeling that way. With such people politeness and kindness goes a long way, and requires nearly nothing from you.  And for those in your immediate family that you feel have done you some sort of egregious wrong, come to terms with the issue by either resolving it with the person involved, or, accepting that this person’s failure in your eyes needs to have minimal effect upon you as you go forth.  Do whatever it takes to make that statement true.  But at the end of the day, know in your heart that you have done your level best with your parents and siblings, and that nothing that needs saying, particularly “I love you,” is left unsaid.

5.  Make self-care a priority — This is the sort of selfishness that is in keeping with a healthy mind, body, and spirit.  It is natural for most people to think of other people first and themselves 2nd or 3rd or even lower.  That is always the wrong approach.  A healthy body is paramount to how a person feels about himself.  Eat properly, exercise moderately, and see a doctor and a dentist on a regular, scheduled, basis.  Being in your 20s is not a free pass for good health.  Women can develop breast cancer and cervical cancer in their 20s.  Men can get heart disease and diabetes in their 20s.  Worse, since during our 20s we feel the best about our general state of health, these diseases can go undiagnosed until they present a far greater health risk than would have happened with a regular checkup.  Also, pretty much everyone gets gum disease and cavities regardless of age.  People with the healthiest minds are those who realise the need to talk out their problems, regardless of the nature of the problem, with either an expert or someone they trust, a best friend.  Getting feedback on our problems requires us to consider what we are doing and that we might find a better way of doing things.  Or it might reassure us that we are doing the right thing or are okay.  And lastly, but maybe most importantly, we need to find a healthy outlet for our anxieties.  We need a healthy distraction that takes our attention away from weighty things and towards something that makes us feel good in a healthy way.  This needs to be practiced daily if possible, but be something we know we can turn to as needed.  Having taken care of ourselves in this manner, we find ourselves more appealing, more available, and more attentive to others, particularly those we love and care about.  It is difficult for anyone who is not healthy in any of these three respects, physically, mentally, and spiritually, to be at our best for those who need us.

6.  Never loan anyone money — This might seem a bit rash but it is not.  I remember years ago a guy who asked to borrow $5 from me with the promise he would pay me back.  He never has paid me back and I have never forgotten that.  He is also dead now.  What I knew, even before that incident, was that I should give the person the money requested with the understanding that they would not pay me back.  The only requirement I put on them is that the time will come that someone needs to borrow some money from them and when they give that person the money, I will have been paid back.  I also tell them I do not want to hear about how that happens for them.  Remember, it is impossible to cop a resentment over money you give away while it is far to easy to get resentful over money loaned and not repaid.

7.  Don’t worry over what people think about you — Everyone wants to be thought well of but that, of course, is an impossibility.  Regardless of where we are, there will be people who do not care for us.  Maybe they would even say they hate us.  The amount of weight that has is entirely dependent upon how we view it.  I know there are people who I do not want to be around and people who do not want to be around me.  I accept that.  Getting caught up in the reasons one person hates me, or whatever, is a fool’s task.  Short of asking them, I can never be certain.  I do need to ask myself why it is important for me to know and what I intend to do with the information if I were to get it.  I am most likely wasting time that could be better used in another direction entirely.  Being grateful for the friends I do have and being grateful for them is usually all I have to remember to make the fact that someone does not like me unimportant.

8.  Always have a Plan B — I actually learned this from my years on active duty in the army.  We used to like to say, “anything that can go wrong probably will, and at the worst possible moment.”  Keeping that in mind has told me that my initial plan, “Plan A,” may fail and that I will be well served to have a “Plan B” in the ready.  It doesn’t hurt to have a “Plan C” and a “Plan D” as well, depending upon how important success is.  Life loves to throw us curve balls which means we are going to be needing a “Plan B” a lot!

9.  Life is messy — This is the natural follow-on to the previous mention, having a Plan B.  Said Robert Burns in his famous poem “To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plough,” said,

“But little Mouse, you are not alone,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often awry,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!”

We make the perfect plan and still things go wrong, people do not react as we would hope, the weather does not cooperate, and our family drives us nuts.  But think how boring life would be were it predictable.  That challenge comes from meeting life’s messiness with the belief that we can persevere if only we do not allow things to get to us.

10.  Don’t take your self so damn seriously! — A couple of things that can quickly get us into trouble is our thinking how important our belief is or, worse, how important it is for us to be right, or worst of all, how important we are.  Throughout the history of man, all of the most important people who have ever lived have all died, sooner or later, and yet the world has not only gone on without them, but has done quite well.  Most of us have certain very strong beliefs that we are willing to fight for.  The thing with beliefs is, they are each and every one quite personal and unique to one person, ourself.  That is, it is difficult to find anyone who agrees 100% with any one of our beliefs 100% of the time.  While it is good to have strong beliefs, convictions, it is also good to remember that belief which differ from our own are equally important to their owner and deserving of respect.  A person who laughs at himself easily, is one other people will listen to respectfully.  And a person with strong convictions who respects another person of equally strong convictions, though they may be in direct opposition to his own, is a person whose convictions will gain consideration by those of other beliefs.