by Gabe Durham
Kids, there are two kinds of people: Those who naturally love sports and those who learn to love sports. And if there is a third kind of person, nobody worth chatting up wants to hear about it.
July 14, 1861
Camp Clark, Washington
My very dear Sarah:
The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days—perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more …
I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans on the triumph of the Government and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and sufferings of the Revolution. And I am willing—perfectly willing—to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt …
Sarah my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me unresistibly on with all these chains to the battle field.
The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them for so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and seen our sons grown up to honorable manhood, around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me—perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar, that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battle field, it will whisper your name. Forgive my many faults and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often times been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness …
But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the gladdest days and in the darkest nights … always, always, and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath, as the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by. Sarah do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again …
He married Sarah Hart Shumway on October 15, 1855 and entered the military in 1861 after the war broke out. When he died, his wife was 24. Sullivan and Sarah Ballou are buried next to each other at Swan Point Cemetery in Providence, RI. There are no known living descendants.
Ironically, Sullivan Ballou’s letter was never mailed. Although Sarah would receive other, decidedly more upbeat letters, dated after the now-famous letter from the battlefield, the letter in question would be found among Sullivan Ballou’s effects when Gov. William Sprague of Rhode Island traveled to Virginia to retrieve the remains of his state’s sons who had fallen in battle.
Jean-Paul the stingray has a lazy eye.
Astra the stoat has no idea how to assemble the Ikea furniture she just bought. (She’s drunk on Swedish meatballs.)
Edwin the goat is a secret anti-Semite.
Pauline the sugar glider is awkward at parties.
Cyclops the X-Man feels dejected whenever Jean Grey makes out with Wolverine.
Dear Lone Reader,
There is this show on the science channel, Through the Wormhole. Narrated by none other than God himself, Morgan Freeman and his freckles. One of the episodes dealt with time, time travel and our perception of time.
Is time real, does it even exist? or is it just perceived as real? There are many theories. As we get older our perception of time literally speeds. If time is only real because we perceive it to be real AND it moves faster as you age, it could theoretically speed up and slow down throughout your life. THUS…YOU ARE LITERALLY A TIME TRAVELLER.
This is fantastic news!
Love,
The Jolly Red Giant
P.S. TARDIS….Get it. GET IT?!……….Anyone?
-Letter to Joseph Twichell, 9/13/1898”
— Mark Twain"
(Source: goodreads.com)
