Taxing
Life is...
Golden apples don’t pay the bills and “Harrowings” - the publishing arm of The Harold B Gill Foundation, LLC - is the sole means of support for the foundation.
There are many reasons for this. For one, I am stubbornly resistant to doing anything other than “The Work” which Harrowings collects and preserves for future generations. Will it matter? Long term, it’s hard to say, but that is the intent; being a good ancestor and providing something of a record of what it was to be Harold Bledsoe Gill, III; the third in a series of Harold Bledsoe Gill’s who made contributions to civilization between the arrival of the first of us on January 16, 1907 and my own final exit which is somewhere in the future - the far future? I’m not sure. If I make it as far as the second of us, I’ll make my exit in late April of 2054. If I’m only as fortunate as the second, it’ll be about 9 years and a few months from now; 2035? It might even be sooner. We will see.
On that thought, I’ll share a bit about the first of us:
My grandfather was a very private person — so much so that he never went to the doctor. He always said “If you ever take your car to a mechanic, you will always have to keep taking it back.” He died at the age of 72 with angina and, my grandmother, Katherine died the next year as a result of a stroke caused ironically by the dyes used to image colon cancer which was successfully removed. Both are buried in Graham Cemetary in the town of Orange, Virginia. The article from the Spring 2017 issue of the Orange County Historical Society’s “Record” written by Paul Carter concludes:
We know of one surviving Gill Water Heater in Orange County. Please let the Orange Historical Society know if you are aware of any others.
(The author would like to extend special thanks to Harold Gill, Jr. for kindly providing assistance and valuable information for this article.)
Within this article, lies a link back to another that details out my memories of my grandfather’s passing. I was 16 at the time and my father and I had spent a week with him as my grandmother got her cataract surgery in Fredericksburg. On the evening of her return from the hospital, he expired in his chair while reading “The Cactus Air Force” about the war in the Pacific, where his younger brother, C.C. Gill, Jr. had served. A drum from New Guinea is behind me here in the bunker that C.C. had left to my father. He was a favorite uncle - something of a ne’er-do-well, it’s said.
What we do here on Harrowings can be called “Time Binding” and I wrote an article about that too. It turned out to be one of the more popular ones:
At its core, time-binding refers to the uniquely human ability to accumulate, preserve, and transmit knowledge across generations through symbols, language, and abstractions. Korzybski introduced this idea in his 1921 book Manhood of Humanity, where he defined humans not just as rational beings but as a “time-binding class of life.” Unlike plants, which he called “chemistry-binders” (they transform energy through chemical processes), or animals, which are “space-binders” (they navigate and adapt to their physical environments in the present moment), humans can “bind time” by building on the experiences and discoveries of those who came before us.
I believe we are still making progress in a positive direction, all indicators to the contrary aside. We can learn and build constructively. A big part of what Harrowings is doing is centered on awakening us to this power that rests within each of us. Art, literature, and music have given us the path forward. I can’t say it anymore forcefully than Patti and Fred “Sonic” Smith did here:
Having the power, what have we done with it?
Looking back over the past, I can give an accounting of my part in these matters.
Having been born on February 4, 1963, I became conscious of the dangers to the environment at an early age. My late father used to read to me from books on dinosaurs, among others, but he kindled an interest in science, particularly chemistry, particularly early. He had studied industrial chemistry while at William and Mary but had to give it up for history when he began to have skin sensitivities which made it unwise to pursue chemistry further. Still, he had jobs related to this phase of his education including teaching science and math at Orange High School. It got me interested.
For my part, I was aware that plastics not degrading was a potential problem when I noticed that, unlike wooden objects left out in the weather, my plastic toys did not degrade. I mustn’t have been much older than three or four when I had a conversation with my mother about this. It’s still with me, so I know that I cannot say that I didn’t know that plastics were not the answer to our problems but would present a problem to future generations.
War was another thing that I found questionable. I grew up watching the six o’clock evening news with my father after dinner. We had a Magnavox black and white set in the living room of our house at 108 Dogwood Drive. I just couldn’t get enough of Walter Cronkite assuring us that “That’s the way it is,” at the end of every broadcast.
The body counts were what struck me. We killed more of them than they killed of us. Now I walk along the Vietnam War Memorial here in Washington DC and pause by the panel marked W37 and run my eyed down the right hand side until I find the name of Talmadge Alphin, Jr who was killed on August 23, 1968 when I was but 5 1/2 years old. He had been the first bass drummer in the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, but was cut off by an ambush of his position, as I remember hearing it. A radioman, he never had a chance.
So, keeping the dead alive became an important part of who I am after joining the fife and drum corps of Colonial Williamsburg myself about 6 years later. I still march, as much in memory of those who cannot, than for any other reason.
Harrowings exists to keep the memories of all of us alive, including my fellow fifers and drummers, but definitely not limited to that by any extent.
For those with an interest, here’s a good example of the quality of our performance:
I am the the center fifer in the third rank in this “Grand March" from 2015.
This was how we turned out after our former “Musick Master” had sent this message:
Our last time being led by him came during the pandemic:
It’s been just over four years since Mr. Moon passed from the scene, but there are myriad descendants he left in his wake, besides his own progeny. Walking back from one of our performances with Mr. Moon and my generations bass drum section leader, I commented that I have but one biological sibling but, through the Corps, I have hundreds of brothers and sisters. He replied:
“…and Father Abraham should have done as well as me…”
Onward!
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THanks for the like, @Angel Woods!