Topic 130: On Nursing a Grievance

For reasons that may later be obvious, I am posting today's essays in reverse order.

Megan:

On Nursing a Grievance

To be honest, if I’d been able to think of something to say about this topic yesterday, I would have written the essay before the interview (which went ok, I think). But ever since we pulled the topic out of the Wicker Basket of Possibilities (hereafter known by it’s rapper name: W-BOP), I’ve been wandering around thinking smugly about how I don’t hold grudges.  And then, as we’re driving to the movie (Limitless – not great),  my mother turns to me and says, as if she’d been reading my mind, “Don’t you think there is a difference between a Grievance and a Grudge?”

Immediately, I saw that there was a big difference. A grievance is a genuine complaint of being hurt – physically, emotionally or mentally. A grudge is a ball of resentment you carry in your chest and stomach where the  hurt has been converted to anger and bitterness. Maybe she talks about this is in her essay, which she has still not finished. But by now she should understand the rules. The first rule of The Daily Theme is that we do not talk about The Daily Theme until after we have finished it. Otherwise, ideas might get stolen.

But as we established, a grievance is not the same as a grudge. And this topic is about nursing it –which can either mean healing it, or feeding it. In this context the meaning is unclear. If you are trying to heal it, then addressing the problem directly is important. It’s not always possible to confront the person or situation that hurt you,  so again, you (the hypothetical you) need to find a way to get some peace. Hurt feelings, legitimate or not, are irrational and fleeting. But if you feed the hurt, encourage it, that’s when the grudge will form.

Anyway, my inability to hold a grudge is something of a novelty in my family. I think I’ve mentioned this before. It’s not that I don’t get hurt or angry or resent anyone, I just don’t like holding onto those feelings. So, either it explodes out of me right away, or if I am in a public or professional environment, I hold it until I am alone.  Which does not mean I scream and yell. I write it out. I talk to people. I listen to loud music with the windows rolled down. And then it’s gone. 

So, you just gotta find your own way to deal.
I should give up librarianship and write inspirational bumper stickers.

And now I am off to deal with my mother and her repeated flaunting of the second rule of The Daily Theme, which is “Essays must be submitted to the web master (me!)  in a timely fashion.” I could be passive aggressive about it. I could post my essay alone and tell her “too bad, you missed the deadline.” I could accuse her of having no respect for my time. But the truth is, I know she’s just trying to write the best essay she can – and half the time I’m only trying to fill the page. So, instead, I’m going to stand behind her and say “Are you done yet? Are you done yet?” over and over until she blows up and sends me whatever she’s got at that point.  And then I will make fun of her typos.  Because that is how I deal.
 

Carol:

Dear Carrie

“If I get killed, I shall go to a better world than this…if I die, Carrie, I hope we will meet again in fairer scenes than these! Where there will be no more warring, no more bloodshed, no more hatred or confusion.” (Hiram T Holt 1863 letter to his wife)

For the last few weeks, the physical cataclysms have seemed to mirror the political …earthquakes, tsunamis, floods, landslides.  I’m not trying to be flip, but I am trying to look for stories that aren’t about nursing  grievances.  I have spent the past week hiding in the 19th century, trying to put together family stories, letters and statistics from census and military records.  Ironic that I should look for peace and quiet in the remnants of one of the most tragic periods in American History. Ironic too that I would find in the Civil War a love story.
 

War was declared with the fall of Fort Sumter in April 1861 to the armies of the newly formed Confederate States.   A teacher from  Alabama  enlisted in the first Confederate company organized in Clarke County. Hiram Talbert Holt was one of many soldiers in gray or blue who  struggled with fear, hunger and homesickness during a war that eventually sent 3 million men into battle and cost the lives of 600,000 Americans (source:  “The Crossroads of our Being”).   

Soldier's Dream

 Talbert Holt was never a hero, but he was a man of religious conviction and strong love for family.  We see that in 138 letters he wrote between April, 1861 and February 1864. They record his fatigue and frustrations, his grief, and his devotion to God and Carrie.
 

They seemed like an unlikely couple.  Caroline “Carrie” DeWitt was the daughter of an illiterate Baptist minister who preached with fervor to congregations around Clarke County.  Talbert Holt was Carrie’s teacher, but not the kind you would expect for a school near the town of Choctaw Corner.  He signed on to teach not only Latin and philosophy but nine other basic subjects. Talbert was 24 years old and Carrie only 17 when they married in 1859. She was 19 when he joined the Confederate Army.
 

Talbert’s letters often encouraged Carrie to continue reading and learning.   He often passed on news of loved ones; four of Carrie’s older brothers and four of her DeWitt cousins were also fighting with Alabama regiments. He also wrote to encourage his young wife: “Ma, how does our little girl? Is she getting well? I hope so. Keep nothing back from me, neither good or bad. Kiss the baby. Give my regards to all. While I remain your devoted Husband” (Sept 8, 1862). He later wrote with grief when their baby Carrie died in early 1864.
 

As the war continued, Talbert   wrote with strengthening conviction about his faith in a loving God and kingdom of peace. His last letter was dated Feb. 2, 1864. He died on Feb. 24 after a skirmish in Dalton, Georgia. Carrie never remarried. She became a teacher and died at the age of 97. Hiram Talbert Holt’s grave is unmarked, but we know it is in the family plot at Bassett Creek Cemetery, somewhere near the grave of his Dear Carrie.

Note on Sources: 

Sometime in the 1930’s Carrie’s grand-daughter Alma Alfredia DeWitt carried a bag crammed full of letters to history professor Robert Partin, who preserved them, wrote about them, and donated them to Auburn University. In the 1970’s retired Baptist minister Irvin DeWitt and his wife Avis travelled the country tracing the family roots, collecting stories and memorabilia for her book. The information in this essay came primarily from these family sources. Carrie’s brother Lewis Lee DeWitt Jr survived the Civil War and relocated his family to Texas in the 1880’s. He too lived into his 90’s, and his obituary was pasted into a scrapbook by his grand-daughter Mamie DeWitt Scott, my grand-mother.
 

Sources: 
Auburn University Special Collections. Guide to the Robert Partin Papers.
“The Crossroads of Our Being,” Ken Burns series The Civil War. PBS.
 DeWitt, Avis Williams. “DeWitt-Duett—Roots and Shoots.” 1984: The Gregath Co.