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June 30, 2004 - Subscribe - Contact Us - Rate Card - Place an Ad Valley&State Backpage O&E Sports Archives Classifieds Faith&Beliefs Obituaries Revels April 12, 2004 Courage with a twist By Kurt Hartmann For the Tidings Almost as far back as I can recall, history has been my favorite subject. Even in elementary school, while my friends were absorbed in comic books, I was devouring wildly romantic novels about the French Foreign Legion. And all through high school and then at college, much of my recreational reading had a history backdrop. A picture hangs on the author's bulletin board, reminding him that courage can be misleading. Kurt Hartmann | Submitted photo When finally I was done with schools and had become part of the workaday world, my preoccupation with book - and films - about major events and important people remained undiminished. Except that, as I came into adult years, my reading assumed a pattern of topical phases. First there was my Civil War phase, during which, in addition to the obligatory Bruce Catton volumes, I poured over tomes about armed clashes in obscure locales. I even read one by Col. Robert McCormick, a newspaper publisher, who made his contribution to the trove of War-Between-the-States knowledge with such immortal titles as "The Civil War Without Grant." Next came Clarence Darrow, arguably America's greatest trial lawyer, and not long thereafter, my attention became fixed on Bonaparte and the Napoleonic Wars. Finally my interest became rived by British history, tidily dividing itself between recent and ancient - as represented by Winston Churchill, emblematic of the former, and that turbulent family which ruled the sceptered isle for more than 300 years, 1154 to 1485 - the Plantagenets, as representing the latter. Inexorably, my fascination with Henry II, his consort, Eleanor of Aquitaine, and their "Devil's Brood," had become so undeniable that I took leave from work, bid farewell to my flabbergasted family and descended on the United Kingdom - bent on reliving the tumultuous history of that "other Eden." I visited such places as Battle, where in 1066 poor King Harold tried to resist the irresistible Normans; Canterbury, where three nights dispatched an archbishop, the sainted Thomas a Becket, figuring they knew what the king had in mind when, in a cranky moment, he asked, "Will no man rid me of this meddlesome priest?" - and to Bosworth Field where the last Plantagenet, Richard III, may or may not have shouted something into the wind about needing a horse. Nor did I bypass the meadow at Runnymede, where Bad King John, in 1215, as he was forced to sign Magna Carta, came to rue that he had dozed through most of his classes in contract law. But all these were but prelude to the jewel in the crown - London! Here I enjoyed the benefit of a conducted tour by my own brother, who made his home in that city. We investigated the tiny underground warrens from which British strategists directed their desperate battles against Hitler, gawked at an idealized Richard the Lionheart astride his charger at Westminster, and explored every cranny of the Tower, where, half a millennium ago, the little princes were foully murdered by their usurping uncle. Or were they? But these sights, wondrous each, were but fleeting shadows compared to what astounded my eyes as I walked along a forgotten mews, my brother momentarily left behind at a nearby kiosk. There, atop the facade of a fittingly modest structure, was the fulfillment of my every fantasy: in simple letters, set off against the roiling clouds, the rallying entreaty to "TAKE COURAGE." Within an eye-blink the Battle of Britain refought itself in my fancy. I saw Spitfires wheeling against Messerschmitts - and heard once again the rolling thunder of Churchillian oratory, vowing in defiance that "we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight in the streets, and we shall never surrender!" Peering through my viewfinder, I knew there was but one perspective in which to photograph my find: In an instant I was prone on the cobbled street, my lens pointed skyward. Here and there a puzzled glance came in my direction from passers-by, but true to exquisite British politeness, not a syllable was uttered. Until that is, I heard the preemptory sound of a familiar voice: "What are you doing lying on the street?" - my brother, standing over me, in his eyes a melding of astonishment, exasperation and bemusement. I tried to explain, but to no avail. "Get on your feet you sentimental oaf," he directed, "That sign has nothing to do with the War or the Battle of Britain. 'Courage' is the name of a beer, and that's an advertisement!" I still like British history. But, somehow, it's never been quite the same again. DailyTidings.com Home Page Valley&State | Backpage | O&E | Sports | Archives | Weather | Classifieds Columnists | Faith&Beliefs | Obituaries | Revels | Subscribe | Contact Us Copyright 2004 Ashland Daily Tidings and Ottaway Newspapers All Rights Reserved Click Here Site Search: .:Advertisements:. RESOURCES - Mail Tribune News - ODOT Road Cams