When driving to destinations from home and back, I occupy my time by listening to YouTube videos of Civil War historians on my mobile phone. I am curious to hear their ideas and stories. 

     The best crop of Civil War historians today, in my estimation, include: Eric Foner at Columbia, Gary Gallagher at the University of Virginia, David Blight at Yale, and Allen Guelzo now at Princeton, but formerly at Gettysburg College. Each has a collection of videos.

     Plus, each possesses that innate ability to bring to life the war, its people, its clash of ideas.

     Last week, I listened to a sixty-minute interview with Allen Guelzo, about his book, published last February, “Our Ancient Faith: Lincoln, Democracy, and the American Experiment.”

     Guelzo found his title in Lincoln’s speech at Peoria, Illinois, on October 16, 1854, when he first said, “my ancient faith,” but then later in that speech, Lincoln changed the phrase.

     He said, “I have quoted so much at this time to show that according to ‘our ancient faith,’ the just powers of governments are derived from the consent of the governed.” 

     Lincoln changed “my ancient faith” to “our ancient faith,” meaning, it includes all Americans.

     For Lincoln, “our ancient faith” is Thomas Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence, James Madison’s Constitution, and George Washington’s words when he presided over thirteen states.

     Guelzo says that each generation must teach the next generation the principles of “our ancient faith.” He says that we need their lessons. We must develop a reverence for their ideas.

     Also, Guelzo says that Lincoln was devoted to the idea that popular sovereignty within a democracy resides with the people, in other words, “from the consent of the governed.”

     At Gettysburg, Lincoln finished his Address with the words, “that government of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

     Guelzo points out that the phrase “of the people” indicates that a democratic government comes out of the people, that they select representatives who must act on the people’s behalf.

     The second phrase “by the people” according to Guelzo, indicates that people can take charge of their own lives, and that people are competent enough to govern their community’s affairs.

     The third phrase “for the people” indicates that the benefits and rich rewards spilling out of democracy and self-government will flow back to the people themselves.

     Guelzo points out that Lincoln’s ideas contradict those of a monarch, a dictator, or a tyrant, who believes the people are unwashed masses of ignorance, born with saddles on their backs and bits in their mouth, ready to be ridden, incapable of self-government or any display of wisdom.

     In the second chapter of the book, Guelzo discusses “Law, Reason, and Passion.”

     Lincoln understood that “passion” can sway people, carry them off the rails. For him, passion includes anger, impulsiveness, and revenge. It leads to lynch mobs, riots, and some very stupid decisions, like granting power to a dictator to set things straight and to drive away the chaos. 

     For Lincoln, the solution was “reason,” that ability to set aside the emotion and instead think toward an appropriate response that will reduce the temperature. Less heat and more light.

    The best means to reason was the “law.” The law is about reason. A reverence for the law will keep people’s passions under control.

     The last thing that Guelzo explains, at the end of the hour, is that democratic government is resilient, more so than a dictatorship.

     Guelzo says that a dictatorship may appear powerful, but once it slams into a brick wall, it disintegrates and dies. A democracy is like Rocky Balboa, who keeps getting knocked down flat again and again, but keeps getting back up to fight another day.

     Our American democracy can absorb a punishing lot of abuse and torment. It has in the past, will do so in the present, as well as into the future. Guelzo finishes, “We have been here before.”   

Universities opened their doors a week or two ago. Freshman students moved into their dorm rooms, met their roommates, hung pictures on the walls, and completed their class schedules.

     Most students want to do well, even just ok, at college, but not everyone does.  

     How well any student completes his or her mastery of course work at a college depends upon that student’s preparation, his or her readiness, his or her skill at reading and writing, plus his or her ambition, hustle, and drive.

     Yet, above all those variables, a person’s success at college depends upon his or her habits.

    Without steady, unswerving habits—studying for several hours everyday of the week—a very intelligent person with great reading and writing skills and sufficient preparation will fare poorly.

     Because success at college is often geared around examinations, a student should begin to prepare for each examination several days before, perhaps the day the class begins.

     A student, who builds that habit of preparing for an examination days before, will do ok.

     Still, few students ever feel great about their examination grade. Most are disappointed, believing that they should have performed better or should have received a better grade.

     In recent days, I have been re-reading William James’s fourth chapter, “Habit,” in his 1890 book, “The Principles of Psychology.”

     William James taught anatomy, psychology, and philosophy at Harvard College for thirty-four years, from 1872 until 1907, which means he gave a lot of examinations to a lot of students.

     At the chapter’s beginning, he writes,

     “When we look at [animals], the first thing that strikes us is that they are bundles of habits.

     “In wild animals, the usual round of daily behavior seems implanted at birth; in animals domesticated, and especially in man, it seems to a great extent, to be the result of education.”

     James is saying that parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, teachers, and adults must teach boys and girls the best, most civilized, of the habits, if the young are ever to learn them.

     James then quotes from a doctor named Dr. Carpenter, who said, “Our nervous system grows to the modes in which it has been exercised.”

     In other words, our minds in coordination with our bodies build habits by exercising our free will, forcing ourselves to do something again and again, until the habit is set, fixed. 

     James writes that “a habit simplifies the movements required to achieve a given result, makes them more accurate and diminishes fatigue.” In other words, once a person memorizes a sequence of actions—a, b, c, d, e, f, g, etc.—the outcome is superior and requires less effort.

     When I read James’s words here, I am reminded of the handful of hours I devoted to solving a Rubik’s cube the first time. The same is true of any procedure on the computer.

     Further into his chapter, he writes,

     “Habit is thus the enormous fly-wheel of society, its most precious conservative agent. It alone prevents the hardest and most repulsive walks of life from being deserted by those brought up to tread therein. It keeps the fisherman and the deck-hand at sea through the winter.

     “It holds the miner in his darkness.”

     In James’s final paragraph of the chapter, he cautions young people.

     “Could the young but realize how soon they will become mere walking bundles of habits, they would give more heed to their conduct while in the plastic [or malleable] state.

     “We are spinning our own fates, good or evil, and never to be undone. Every smaller stroke or virtue or of vice leaves its never so little scar.”

     I say to each college-bound student, “build the best habits you can now, today, at college.” 

Students will walk back into school soon and settle themselves into a small desk. Once seated, each girl and each boy will stare at a series of math story problems, or long pages of difficult-to-read text on science or history, plus the dreaded weekly compositions in English.

To those anxious students, I say, “Embrace those compositions. Do not let them intimidate you. Let your light shine. Present your opinions, your ideas, your humor. Lay aside your fear of ridicule from your peers. Show your intelligence. The better writers are the better thinkers.”

You can become a better writer, by thinking more and writing more. One expert on writing recommends writing two or three five-paragraph essays every day, and show your work.

Years ago the computer scientist and writer Paul Graham wrote an essay he entitled, “The Age of the Essay,” and at its beginning, he wrote, “The most obvious difference between real essays and the things one has to write in school is that real essays are not just about English literature.”

In other words, Graham says, write about some topic other than a commentary on Nathaniel Hawthorne’s “A Scarlet Letter.”

An ambitious student who wants to write well can select from a mountain of books, each designed to improve a student’s essays.

From that mountain, I would first pick up William Zinsser’s two books: “On Writing Well,” and “Writing to Learn.” Zinsser was a long-time New York City columnist, plus an instructor of nonfiction writing at Yale University. Step-by-step he leads young and old writers forward.

Zinsser “claims that writing about a field of knowledge is the best way to immerse oneself in it and to make it one’s own.” He calls for “accuracy, brevity, and clarity.” He says, “Writing is thinking on paper. Anyone who thinks clearly should be able to write clearly about any subject.”

“Clear writing is the logical arrangement of thought. A scientist who thinks clearly can write as well as the best writer.”

In addition, I would recommend Stephen King’s book, “On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft.” Of all of King’s book, “On Writing” is most unique. He stops writing horror fiction long enough to describe his early years, growing up in Maine, and learning how and what to write.

Similar to King’s book is Isaac Asimov’s condensed biography, “It’s Been a Good Life.” In it he explains his work habits: seven days a week, from early in the morning until ten o’clock at night. Always writing. The result: over his lifetime Isaac Asimov published some 500 books.

The most pervasive of that mountain of books on writing is William Strunk and E. B. White’s “The Elements of Style.” Thousands of that slim volume fill up the shelves of used book stores.

Students may glance at “Elements of Style” once or twice when in school, but most lay it aside after the class ends, convinced that never again will they write anything.

Bill Benson, of Sterling, is a dedicated historian.

During the first World War, Henry Ford brought suit against the “Chicago Tribune,” because a reporter wrote that Ford was an “ignoramus.” At the trial, the newspaper’s attorneys peppered Ford with trivia questions, each designed to prove Ford’s ignorance.

To each question, Ford replied, “I do not know.”

Feeling exasperated, Ford said, “If I should wish to answer these foolish questions, I could call in men who could give me the correct answer. Now why should I fill my mind with useless details, when I have men who can supply me with all the facts I want?”

James Herriot, the English veterinarian, turned writer,” told a story of a simple guy in Darrowby, who displayed one unique and useful talent. He could imitate a fly.

When Herriot and a herdsman tried and failed to herd six cows into the farmer’s barn for a tuberculosis test, the herdsman called in the simple guy. He arrived on a bicycle and began to make a buzzing sound that the cows hated. Herriot said, “All the cows come running.”

The two stories above show how people drop into various slots: a capitalist, a reporter, an attorney, those who know trivia, those who do not, a veterinarian, a herdsman, and a simple guy who could imitate a fly.

As a woman or man strides through life, when busy assembling education, credentials, and experience, slots for various careers open and shut. A choice to focus upon one career means a multitudes of others close shut. That is the downside to specialization.

Shakespeare described this fact best. In “Julius Caesar,” Brutus tells Cassius,

“There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.”

Some of my jobs: student, farm hand, teacher, coach, house painter, roofer, field scout, accountant, columnist, biographer, and sales. Teaching adolescents was the hardest job ever.

Mark Twain said, “I never had but two powerful ambitions. One was be a river boat pilot, and the other a preacher of the gospel. I accomplished the one, and failed in the other, because I could not supply myself with the necessary stock in trade, religion. I have given it up forever.”

How do people select the right person for a job? When people in the north in mid-nineteenth century came to understand that slavery was immoral, they looked to find someone to lead them in a fight against the white Southern slave-holders. The Northerners picked Abraham Lincoln.

Lincoln understood that if he hoped to change people’s thinking on slavery, he would have to join a political party. With a party’s collective power behind him, he could change the law.

He could seek to amend the Constitution. He could reorient the Supreme Court. He could abolish slavery. He could set free the enslaved, and eradicate the dreaded chains and whips.

Last Sunday, Democratic party officials asked Joe Biden to step aside, convinced that he could no longer fight the MAGA juggernaut. Party officials looked to Vice President Kamala Harris. A slot opened for her. They tagged her as the right person for the job.

The next day, she stated, “I was elected Attorney General in California. Before that I was a courtroom prosecutor. I took on perpetrators of all kinds.

“Predators who abused women. Fraudsters who ripped off consumers. Cheaters who broke the rules for their own gain. So hear me when I say I know Donald Trump’s type.”

In seven sentences, Harris declared her intentions. To run a Presidential campaign like a prosecuting attorney, to hold Trump accountable for his words and actions, to pin down his embellished and fabricated statements, and to demand truthful answers and responses.

“There is a tide in the affairs of men,” and women. Indeed, the tide rolls in for some, out for others. “We must take the current when it serves.” The current pulls some forward, others away. “On such a full sea are we now afloat.”