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Humanity Life, Brooklyn, NY (2026)

05/29/2026

𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘛𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘞𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦.

Before Mark Twain became the dominant literary voice of the American frontier, Bret Harte briefly stood at the center of national attention as the writer who turned California’s rough mining camps into literature. In doing so, he helped define what later critics would call the “local color” movement, stories rooted in specific regions, filled with dialect, detail, and sharply observed character.

𝗔𝗻 𝗘𝗮𝗿𝗹𝘆 𝗔𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗪𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗻 𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴

Born Francis Brett Hart in Albany, New York, in 1836, Harte came of age in a household marked by early loss and financial constraint. His formal education was limited, but he read widely and developed a strong literary instinct early on.

At 18, in 1854, he traveled west to California, arriving during the lingering aftermath of the Gold Rush. The great rush of 1849 had subsided, but its cultural aftershocks—boomtowns, shifting fortunes, and makeshift communities—still shaped much of the state.

Harte tried a series of jobs: printer, teacher, courier, and briefly, miner. The physical labor of mining didn’t suit him, but observation did. He was drawn to the surrounding personalities: gamblers with sudden philosophies, drifters reinventing themselves weekly, and rough laborers capable of unexpected generosity. California’s mining camps and frontier settlements became his richest source of material.

By the early 1860s, Harte was working in journalism in Northern California. During this period, he publicly condemned the 1860 massacre of Wiyot Indians near Humboldt Bay. This stance made him unpopular among residents and distinguished him from much of the contemporary press. His reporting revealed a willingness to challenge prevailing attitudes and confront the harsher realities of life in the developing West.

His breakthrough came in 1868 with the short story “The Luck of Roaring Camp,” published in The Overland Monthly, which he edited. The story centers on a crude mining settlement transformed by the arrival of an orphaned baby. What made it striking to readers on the East Coast was not simply its setting but its emotional framing, with miners portrayed not as mere roughs but as men capable of tenderness and redemption.

A year later, the short story “The Outcasts of Poker Flat” expanded that approach. In it, gamblers and social exiles are stranded in the Sierra Nevada and forced to confront their moral reckoning. The story’s blend of irony, sentiment, and frontier grit helped establish Harte as one of the most widely read American writers of the late 1860s.

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05/28/2026

𝘐𝘯 ‘𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘞𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘏𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺,’ 𝘢 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵, 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘫𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭.

The Soviets detonated their first atomic bomb in 1949, years ahead of what the American intelligence community had predicted. This leap in nuclear technology was only made possible by their stealing technology from the New Mexico-based Los Alamos National Laboratory. The theft of nuclear technology came by way of a group known to history as the Atomic Spies.

Espionage was at the center of the Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union. The two superpowers spied on each other for decades, concerned primarily with their opponent’s military capabilities.

The Soviet Union’s Iron Curtain cut through the heart of Europe—separating the West from the East. Part of the East, though not part of the Soviet Union, was the People’s Republic of China (PRC), led by Chairman Mao Zedong.

Communist China became a nuclear power in 1964, thanks in large part to the Soviets sharing their technology. Over the course of 15 years, the stolen secrets from Los Alamos made the world an even more dangerous place. Although it was the Soviets who occupied most of the attention from the U.S. intelligence communities, the Chinese soon proved to be the greater threat, and they did it the same way the Soviets had: spying at Los Alamos.

𝐀 𝐍𝐮𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐲

Ten years before the Chinese detonated their first atomic bomb, the Americans commissioned the world’s first nuclear-powered submarine, the USS Nautilus (SSN-571). In May 1955, the submarine traveled a record-breaking 1,381 miles without resurfacing. That same year (as the Soviets launched their first nuclear-powered submarine), it traveled 1,383 miles to the Soviet-protected waters of the Arctic. The nuclear submarine was invulnerable to enemies, capable of traveling submerged faster, quieter, and longer than any other submarine.

By this time, the Navy’s submarines had been capable of firing missiles for nearly a decade. The problem was they had to surface to do so, making them vulnerable to attack. With the development of a nuclear-powered submarine, naval command ordered the development of nuclear-powered missiles capable of being launched from a submerged submarine.

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05/27/2026

𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯’𝘴 250𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

HOUSTON—A Boeing 737-7BC known as “Archive One,” or the “Freedom Plane,” is flying nine founding-era documents to eight cities to commemorate America’s 250th anniversary.

Onboard are the 1774 Articles of Association from the First Continental Congress, which called for the boycott of British goods; three Oaths of Allegiance from 1778, signed by Aaron Burr, Alexander Hamilton, and George Washington; the 1783 Treaty of Paris, which officially ended the War for Independence; New Jersey delegate David Brearley’s secret printing of the United States Constitution; the delegates’ voting record for passing the Constitution; the Bill of Rights, with annotations and edits from Senate members; and one of approximately 50 surviving copies of William Stone’s 1823 engraving of the Declaration of Independence.

These documents are currently housed at the Houston Museum of Natural Science (HMNS). Houston is the fourth city to be honored with the historic exhibition. The first stop of the “Freedom Plane National Tour: Documents That Forged a Nation” was Kansas City, Missouri, followed by Atlanta and Los Angeles. The documents will remain on display in Houston until May 25 before jetting off to Denver, Miami, Dearborn, Michigan, and finally Seattle.

𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧

This is not the first time the HMNS has hosted a National Archives exhibit. Its most recent collaboration occurred in late 2011 and early 2012 when it hosted the “Discovering the Civil War” exhibit for the 150th commemoration of the Civil War. Dirk Van Tuerenhout, the museum’s director of collections and curator of anthropology, was there for the Civil War exhibit and is overseeing the current Freedom Plane exhibit.

Tuerenhout called the exhibit an honor for Houston, saying it made sense that the nation’s fourth-largest city was selected. He highlighted the city’s size and accessibility via Interstate 10, along with the museum’s strong track record with the National Archives and major temporary exhibits, including a 2003 Vatican exhibition, “Saint Peter and the Vatican: The Legacy of the Popes,” to commemorate 2,000 years of Christianity.

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05/26/2026

𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 ‘𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥,’ 𝘸𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 ‘𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘴’ 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯.

At age 21, she was the youngest first lady in American history. Her husband was 27 years older and had held her in his arms when she was an infant. Theirs was the only presidential White House wedding. She was the only first lady to deliver a baby in the White House and the first presidential widow to remarry.

The first lady who laid claim to these honors was Frances “Frank” Folsom (1864–1947), who married President Grover Cleveland in the Blue Room on June 2, 1886. The paparazzi of the day instantly took to this beautiful, considerate, and vivacious young woman, describing her dresses in minute detail in the papers, repeating a phrase she might have dropped, and following her like rock star groupies.

Her portrait and photographs appeared in newspapers and magazines across the country. Without her permission, companies featured her in advertisements for products like liver pills and ashtrays.

Historian and motivational speaker Barry Bradford wrote, “She became our first superstar first lady. She was the Jacqueline Kennedy of the 19th century. ... So great was her charm and poise, despite her youth, that a bitter political opponent of Cleveland was reported to have gotten a huge laugh when he said, ‘I detest him so much that I don’t even think his wife is beautiful.’”

Beneath all the fireworks and behind all the glitter of her popularity was a young woman of surprising character and strength.

𝐀 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥

Born in Buffalo, New York, Frances was the daughter and only child of Emma and Oscar Folsom. Her father’s good friend and law partner, bachelor Grover Cleveland, was a frequent visitor to the Folsom home, often bringing Frances gifts and known to her as Uncle Cleve.

When Folsom died in a carriage accident—he was a fast and reckless driver—Cleveland served as one of his pallbearers and as administrator of his estate, carefully providing for 11-year-old Frances and her mother. As Frances grew older, he took an interest in her education and helped secure her entry to Wells College in 1882. Around that time, he also sought and received Emma’s permission to correspond with her daughter, a sign of an impending courtship.

Forced to stay at Wells for final exams, Frances missed Cleveland’s 1885 presidential inauguration, but came a few weeks later to the White House. In August, Cleveland proposed by letter, and Frances accepted.

Emma insisted that she and Frances first tour Europe so that her daughter could contemplate her future, and it was further agreed that the proposal would be kept secret. Convinced that the president was going to marry Emma and that she had crossed the Atlantic searching for dresses and a bridal gown, a crowd of reporters and well-wishers greeted their ship on its return, only to be informed the next day by the White House that the president intended to marry not the mother but the daughter.

Less than a week after their return, on June 2, 1886, the longtime bachelor and his young bride were wedded in the White House, and Frances became an immediate sensation.

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05/25/2026

𝘋𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧-𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘧𝘧, 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘺.

“I will never leave a fallen comrade,” reads the Soldier’s Creed of the U.S. Army. This same commitment to recovering the dead, the wounded, and the missing in action runs throughout the armed forces. It’s a powerful vow—part of the glue binding together a small unit, a squad, or a platoon—an assurance that should a member be killed on the battlefield, someone will come for them.

Memorial Day is this oath writ large for the rest of us. It is our promise that on at least one day each year, we will come for those fallen in America’s wars, to remember them and to rescue them from obscurity.

And there’s a beautiful twist to this mission. By remembering and rescuing these dead, we rescue ourselves. By honoring these dead and recalling with gratitude their sacrifice, we join hands with them and keep alive the best in us.

Here are some specific ways, old and new, we can keep them in our memory and so ensure, as Abraham Lincoln said at Gettysburg, “that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐲

On April 25, 1866, a group of women in Columbus, Mississippi, banded together to care for and lay flowers on the graves of 1,400 Confederate soldiers who were killed or died of wounds at the Battle of Shiloh. Nearby were the graves of 40 Union soldiers. The women decided to tend these graves of former enemies as well, and news of this event spread across the country through the press, earning praise as a sign of reconciliation and inspiring Francis Miles Finch to write the popular poem “The Blue and the Gray.”

At about the same time, several other towns officially honored the Civil War dead with flowers, speeches, and parades. Soon, Decoration Day became a tradition nationwide that evolved into what we today know as Memorial Day.

We can perform the same services as those ladies and the countless thousands who came after them. We can join special events at one of the 157 national veterans cemeteries, or we can more simply go to a local cemetery, where we may well find the grave of a veteran fallen in war. Whether it’s “decorating” a grave with flowers or a small American flag or simply praying, we do honor to those who died for our country.

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05/25/2026

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢’𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 1908 𝘣𝘺 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵.

By the seventh inning of a baseball game, the ritual is nearly automatic. Fans rise from their seats, stretch stiff legs, and sing words that have echoed through American ballparks for more than a century: “Take me out to the ball game/Take me out with the crowd.”

Even those who rarely watch baseball know the lyrics. The song has become so deeply embedded in American life that it feels inseparable from the sport itself, a melodic companion to hot summer nights, scorecards, peanuts, and ninth-inning hope.

Yet “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” was not born inside a stadium. It began in transit.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

In 1908, lyricist Jack Norworth was riding a subway train in Manhattan when he noticed a sign advertising a game at the Polo Grounds between the New York Giants and the Chicago Cubs. According to legend, inspiration struck immediately. Norworth grabbed an envelope and began scribbling lyrics. Within hours, he had written one of the most recognizable choruses in American history: “Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack,/I don’t care if I never get back.”

The lyrics capture something larger than baseball itself. There is little actual game action: no double plays, no strikeouts, no pennant races. Instead, the song celebrates the atmosphere—the crowd, the snacks, the communal joy of attending a game. That may explain its unusual staying power.

Norworth soon partnered with composer Albert Von Tilzer, a successful Tin Pan Alley songwriter who supplied the melody. Together, they published the song in 1908, and it quickly became a hit in sheet music form during an era when families regularly gathered around pianos to perform popular songs.

Then came one of baseball’s favorite legends. For decades, it has been widely repeated that Norworth had never attended a baseball game when he wrote the lyrics. Historians have never settled the question, though Norworth acknowledged at the time he was not much of a baseball fan. Whether true or embellished, the story endures because it feels improbably charming: the man who wrote baseball’s anthem may have done so largely from imagination.

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05/23/2026

𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢 𝘉𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘒𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘕𝘢𝘶𝘤𝘬, 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘛𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘴 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺, 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯.

Of the many Bible passages that emphasize the prudence of preparedness, Proverbs 24:27 has special meaning for Lucinda Bailey: “Prepare your work outside, and make it ready for yourself in the field; afterward, then, build your house.”

A Michigan native who grew up gardening and selling vegetables to neighbors, Bailey found that the instruction of working to prepare the field always resonated with her. As an adult, however, the verse’s wisdom took on a whole new meaning.

In 2012, living in Texas, Bailey became concerned about the rising national debt, which at the time amounted to just over $16 trillion. It dawned on her that at some point in the future, she might need to grow her own food.

So Bailey and her best friend Kurt Nauck, a wildlife biologist and born-and-bred Texan, decided to purchase a seed bank, a collection of heirloom seeds designed to preserve the unique genetics of different varieties so that they could continue to be used for future gardens. But there was a problem.

“We thought it should be pretty easy to find a good kit, but that turned out to be much more difficult than expected,” she said. A certified crop advisor, Bailey couldn’t find an existing seed bank that met her standards for quality, diversity, and overall value, and that would also grow well in her Houston-area garden. So she and Nauck decided to build their own.

Proper seed saving (the practice of collecting seeds from mature plants to sow in future seasons) is the key to successfully building and maintaining a seed bank. Bailey knew that modern hybrid seeds and GMOs developed in laboratories grow into plants that often yield sterile seeds, meaning they cannot be relied upon as a future food source. Heirloom seeds, on the other hand, retain the genetics that have been preserved over many generations. When properly saved, heirloom seeds will reproduce true-to-type plants indefinitely.

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05/22/2026

𝘐𝘯 ‘𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘞𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘏𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺,’ 𝘈𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘏𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘣𝘵𝘴, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢’𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘤.

“For Heavens sake, Use for once your Influence to defer this till my Arrival—when it will not be Necessary. My Public Transactions are not blended with my private affairs. Every Farthing will be Immediately accounted for. Of this I pledge my Honor,” William Duer wrote to Alexander Hamilton on March 12, 1792. “If a Suit should be brought on the Part of the Public, under my present distrest Circumstances, My Ruin is complete.”

Duer’s panic is unmistakable in his letter. His financial plans had unraveled, but those failed plans looked to not only ruin him but possibly the young country’s entire financial standing. Such was his situation that he felt emboldened to contact his former boss and his cousin by marriage. Duer had been secretary of the Treasury Board when the United States was under the Articles of Confederation. Hamilton had appointed him assistant secretary of the Treasury in 1789, after the adoption of the Constitution.

Hamilton wrote back two days later, expressing great sympathy for Duer’s position, but the man’s request could not be fulfilled. Rather, Hamilton encouraged him to “act with fortitude and honor. If you cannot reasonably hope for a favorable extrication, do not plunge deeper. Have the courage to make a full stop. Take all the care you can in the first place of institutions of public utility and in the next of all fair creditors.”

It was too late, however, for Duer to make a full stop. He had resigned as assistant secretary because his administrative position forbade him from making investment speculations on federal securities. Before taking up either Treasury position, Duer had been a member of the Continental Congress, a member of the New York State Convention, a lumber merchant, and a land and stock speculator. It was in the latter position that he made his fortune during the 1780s. He had become skilled at speculating, and the systems of Hamilton’s new Treasury Department swung wide the door to making more money.

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05/21/2026

𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 ‘𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥,’ 𝘸𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘴.

By the spring of 1940, James “Jimmy” Maitland Stewart (1908–1997) had hit the jackpot in Hollywood. He’d become one of MGM’s top guns, rising from small parts to becoming a star and a major audience draw in movies like “You Can’t Take It With You,” “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington,” and “The Philadelphia Story,” for which he won an Academy Award for best actor.

In October 1940, having received his draft notice, Stewart decided to leave the glitter behind and enlist in the Army. After being declared underweight, which would have allowed him to escape service, the actor passed a second weigh-in and entered the Army months before the attack on Pearl Harbor. Later, Stewart explained that he had a friend assessing the scale on this second attempt.

With his lifelong interest in flying and his hundreds of hours in the air as a pilot, Stewart enlisted in the Army Air Corps as a private. His degree from Princeton University in architecture helped win him a commission, and he served in various posts, most importantly as an instructor in flying heavy aircraft.

With the war on, Stewart desperately wanted to serve overseas, but refused to use his star status to make that request until rumors reached him that he was being sent on publicity tours and to make films for the military. He approached his commander at that time, Col. Walter Arnold, and made his case for combat. Arnold granted his request, and Stewart was soon bound for England as an operations officer in the 445th Bombardment Group.

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05/20/2026

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 ‘𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥’ 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘏𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘪𝘤 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘺 𝘓𝘢𝘪 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘝𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘯𝘢𝘮 𝘞𝘢𝘳.

On March 16, 1968, American soldiers brought hell on earth to Vietnam’s Son My, a cluster of villages including My Lai, My Khe, Co Luy, and Tu Cung. Commanded by Capt. Ernest Medina, Charlie Company went on a spree of murder, r**e, and arson that resulted in 300 to 500 Vietnamese deaths. Men, women, and children were slaughtered individually or in groups for their supposed support of North Vietnamese troops.

The military initially covered up the massacre, first claiming that the soldiers had fought the enemy. Then they quietly launched an investigation. On Nov. 12, 1969, journalist Seymour Hersch broke the story of these atrocities, shocking American voters and fueling the antiwar movement. With this news, the shame of what came to be called the My Lai (pronounced Mee Lie) Massacre became a black stain on American history.

Further details revealed, however, that one helicopter pilot and his crew of two acted as heroes of virtue during this horrible slaughter.

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

Warrant Officer Hugh Thompson Jr. (1943–2006) grew up in Stone Mountain, Georgia, one of two sons in a working-class family. His parents—his father was a veteran of World War II—taught both boys discipline, integrity, and patriotism. After graduating from high school, Thompson served for three years in the Navy, was honorably discharged, and took charge of a mortuary back home to provide for his wife and family.

In 1966, feeling the need to support the expanding U.S. military efforts in Vietnam and also wishing to learn to fly, Thompson enlisted in the Army. After he trained as a helicopter pilot, he was sent to Vietnam, where in January 1968 he became a member of the 123rd Aviation Battalion of the 23rd Infantry Division.

On March 16, he and his men, Spcs. Glenn Andreotta and Lawrence Colburn, both serving as door gunners that day, were ordered to serve as reconnaissance and support for the infantry in the Sun My operation.

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05/19/2026

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘳.

Long before Re*****on became a fixture of American industry, it was simply a name struck into iron in a small upstate New York forge. In the early 19th century, as the young republic pressed outward—across rivers, over ridgelines, and into contested ground—Eliphalet Re*****on II turned skill, necessity, and a restless eye for improvement into something more lasting than tools. He built a reputation that would travel quietly, but persistently, with the nation itself.

𝐀 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐬

Born in 1793 in Suffield, Connecticut, Re*****on came of age in a country still defining its edges. When his family settled near Ilion, New York, the region stood at the fringe of expansion, where self-reliance was less a virtue than a requirement. He learned blacksmithing in his father’s shop, shaping iron into the implements settlers depended on—axes, plowshares, and fittings that held wagons and livelihoods together. It was steady work, but Re*****on saw beyond it.

Around 1816—so the story is often told—he set out to make a rifle barrel after finding existing ones wanting. He forged the barrel and carried it to a specialist for rifling, returning with a finished piece that quickly drew attention. Whether polished by time or not, the episode captures something essential: Re*****on’s instinct to improve what already existed and to trust his hands to do it.

Orders followed. First for barrels, then for complete fi****ms. What began as a sideline in a blacksmith shop grew into a dedicated enterprise. By the 1820s, Re*****on had established a small but expanding operation in Ilion. He brought his three sons—Philo, Samuel, and Eliphalet III—into the business, and they gradually standardized production, incorporating ideas about interchangeable parts and quality control. It was not a sudden transformation but a steady one, shaped by demand, practice, and fine-tuning.

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