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Tuesday, November 11, 2025

November 11, 2025: Veterans’ Stories: William Apess and the War of 1812

[For Veterans Day, I’ll be AmericanStudying five examples of texts that can help us remember and engage with veterans’ experiences from five of our defining wars. Leading up to a weekend post on 21st century veterans’ stories!]

On two ways to AmericanStudy the significance of a Native American veteran’s experiences.

I’ve written about William Apess, one of my very favorite American writers and voices, many times in this space and beyond. Most of those posts have focused on individual texts of his, but in this post I wrote more broadly about the arc of his life (as well as how he traced it in his autobiographical writing). I’d ask you to check out that post if you could, and then come on back for thoughts on Apess’s military service during the War of 1812.

As I note in that post, just about every detail of Apess’s life seems hyperbolic; but perhaps the most extreme is captured in this clause: “enlisting in a New York militia at the age of 16 and fighting in the War of 1812.” The U.S. did not yet have a standing army at this time, so it relied on state militias to do the bulk of the fighting (alongside assembled armies like the amazingly diverse one Andrew Jackson commanded at the Battle of New Orleans), and I have to imagine that they weren’t great at checking the ages of their soldiers. But at the same time, I don’t think we can separate Apess’s extreme experience of military service from the fraught and complicated multi-century story of Native Americans service in U.S. wars and conflicts. From Crispus Attucks to Ira Hayes, the U.S. Army Indian Scouts to the Najavo code talkers, and so many other individuals and communities, Native Americans have played a role in every American conflict, one far exceeding their percentage of the overall population. And as we see most potently in Leslie Marmon Silko’s novel Ceremony (1977), that service has always affected them profoundly and too often painfully, something I have to imagine was part of Apess’s story as well, especially given just how young he was when that service began.

Alongside such negative effects, of course, veterans can also take away meaningful positives from their wartime service, and one positive aftermath in which I’m especially interested is the critical patriotic perspective that many veterans express and then act upon. William Apess undoubtedly drew his own critical patriotism from a variety of sources, including his faith and his profound understanding of Scripture, his connection to and love for his fellow Native Americans, and more. But I don’t think we can discount the role that this teenage military service played in shaping both Apess’s awareness of the worst of America and his desire to continue fighting to push the nation closer to its best—and when he expressed all those perspectives in his best work, “Eulogy on King Philip” (1836), he did so in the heart of Revolutionary-celebrating 1830s Boston, an act of aggressive activism that seems likewise to continue with that youthful fighting spirit.

Next veteran’s story tomorrow,

Ben

PS. What do you think? Veterans’ stories and/or texts you’d share?

Monday, November 10, 2025

November 10, 2025: Veterans’ Stories: The Shoemaker and the Tea Party

[For Veterans Day, I’ll be AmericanStudying five examples of texts that can help us remember and engage with veterans’ experiences from five of our defining wars. Leading up to a weekend post on 21st century veterans’ stories!]

On two important lessons about veterans that we can draw from Alfred F. Young’s book about George Robert Twelves Hewes.

I wrote at length about Young’s The Shoemaker and the Tea Party: Memory and the American Revolution (2000) in this 2012 Beach Reads post. I’d ask you to check out that post if you would, and then come on back for a couple further thoughts about Hewes as a Revolutionary War veteran.

Welcome back! In that post I focused mostly on Hewes’s role in and then 1820s memories of pre-Revolutionary events like the Boston Tea Party and Boston Massacre, which are also the main focal points of Young’s book. But Hewes did go on to fight in the American Revolution as well, both as a militiaman and as a privateer, and I think that’s as important part of his story that can also help us engage with a couple broader layers of veterans’ experiences. For one thing, I would say that we can sometimes focus on veterans’ wartime experiences as if they exist in a vacuum, or at least as something distinct from the rest of their story; but while of course war is its own thing, it’s also always part of a soldier’s ongoing and larger life story, and more specifically it always follows on whatever had come before for that individual. While most soldiers likely don’t take part in events that directly lead up to the war as Hewes did, they certainly do all live in the society that is experiencing those pre-war events and trends, and I have no doubt that for nearly all of them that means they come to the war with existing perspectives and ideas that have to be considered as part of their wartime experiences.

By definition, veterans also return from their wartime experiences (something that is of course far from guaranteed for soldiers serving in a war). Most of our narratives of returning veterans focus, understandably, on the ways that they carry the war with them for the rest of their lives, a subject I’ve written about many times in this space. But what Hewes and The Shoemaker remind us is that veterans also play a role in shaping our stories, narratives, and collective memories of the wars that they take part in. That they don’t generally do so as overtly as Hewes did through his contributions to 1820s commemorations, or for that matter as overtly as many of the folks and texts I’ll write about in this week’s series, doesn’t change the fact that every time a veteran talks about wartime experiences, tell stories of the war, participates in a meeting or gathering or conversation related to those subjects, and so on, they are helping shape our collective memories of that conflict. That can mean many different things in practice, but no matter what it’s a key role that veterans play, and one that the Shoemaker helps us remember and think about.   

Next veteran’s story tomorrow,

Ben

PS. What do you think? Veterans’ stories and/or texts you’d share?

Saturday, November 8, 2025

November 8-9, 2025: 15 Years (!) of AmericanStudying: My Dad

[15 years ago this week, I started this here public scholarly blog. There have been lots of twists and turns since, and the best ones have been aided & abetted by wonderful folks. So for my 15th (!) anniversary series, I wanted to pay tribute to a handful of those moments and people, leading up to this special weekend tribute to my first and best reader!]

Just over nine months ago, we lost my Dad. I’ve had the chance to pay tribute to him in a number of different ways this year, as of course I’ve done on this blog many times (but never sufficient to express all that he meant to me). Speaking of this blog, I don’t know that I can put it any more clearly than this: very soon after I started it he figured out how to become a follower, meaning that he would get each day’s post by email; in our daily email exchanges he would respond to my posts a very significant percentage of the time; and to this day, quite literally to the moment that I’m drafting this post, I still think of him as my first and favorite reader for anything and everything I write here. I still can’t quite believe that I’ll never get to read his thoughts on a blog post again (I don’t imagine that will ever entirely sink in, and I’m okay with that), but I promise you that for as long as I write here, and as long as I write and work and teach and parent and love and live, he will be a defining presence. I miss you and love you, Dad.

Veterans Day series starts Monday,                                                 

Ben

PS. Please feel free to say hi and share any blog responses or ideas in comments!

Friday, November 7, 2025

November 7, 2025: 15 Years (!) of AmericanStudying: Vaughn Joy’s Partnership

[15 years ago this week, I started this here public scholarly blog. There have been lots of twists and turns since, and the best ones have been aided & abetted by wonderful folks. So for my 15th (!) anniversary series, I wanted to pay tribute to a handful of those moments and people, leading up to a special weekend tribute to my first and best reader!]

Although this post will also still appear on my blogspot page (as my posts will continue to until the end of January), the main home for AmericanStudier for the last couple months, and moving forward, is the new public scholarly website Black & White & Read All Over. That site was the brainchild and has been created and designed by my wife Vaughn Joy, and it’s really phenomenal—as a space to host each of our public scholarly writing, as a home for my #ScholarSunday threads, but also and especially as an expression of communal solidarity and support. You can find that in the Announcements, the resources like the Pitchables page, the Guest Posts, and more. So please check out all the layers of our (and especially Vaughn’s) amazing site, subscribe if you’re interested, and help this blog and our work take these exciting next steps!

Special tribute this weekend,

Ben

PS. Please feel free to say hi and share any blog responses or ideas in comments!

Thursday, November 6, 2025

November 6, 2025: 15 Years (!) of AmericanStudying: Jen Bortel’s Journalistic Editing

[15 years ago this week, I started this here public scholarly blog. There have been lots of twists and turns since, and the best ones have been aided & abetted by wonderful folks. So for my 15th (!) anniversary series, I wanted to pay tribute to a handful of those moments and people, leading up to a special weekend tribute to my first and best reader!]

I’ve written many times in this space about my Saturday Evening Post editor Jen Bortel, and what working with her on my Considering History column for the last 7.75 years (8th anniversary in early January!) has meant to me. No matter how far along we get in our careers, it seems to be the case that most of our opportunities come by necessity from our own initiative; so for Jen to reach out to me to recruit me to write for the Post remains one of my absolute career highlights. And that’s not even the best thing Jen has done for my career—for that, I would point to her consistently thoughtful editing work with my column drafts, not only to improve my style and voice in the ways I discussed in yesterday’s post (although that for sure), but also and especially to keep me thinking about the Post’s audience and how I can best reach them. Public scholarship requires us to really engage the public, any and all audiences we can find, and there could be no better editor for that process than what Jen has been for me.

Last anniversary tribute tomorrow,

Ben

PS. Please feel free to say hi and share any blog responses or ideas in comments!

Wednesday, November 5, 2025

November 5, 2025: 15 Years (!) of AmericanStudying: Avi Green’s Aid

[15 years ago this week, I started this here public scholarly blog. There have been lots of twists and turns since, and the best ones have been aided & abetted by wonderful folks. So for my 15th (!) anniversary series, I wanted to pay tribute to a handful of those moments and people, leading up to a special weekend tribute to my first and best reader!]

I wrote at great length in this May 2017 post—part of a weeklong series on my work for and with the Scholars Strategy Network (SSN)—on the vital role that SSN, and especially its then-Media Director (later Executive Director) Avi Green, played in the single most crucial turning point in my online public scholarly writing career. I hope you’ll check out that post, but I do want to quickly follow up on one specific phrase: “after ruthlessly and crucially forcing me to cut it down and make it more engaging.” I’d like to think that the evolution of my style and voice, from their very academic starting point (I hope that dissertation/first book of mine did feature readable academic prose, but still, very academic indeed) to where they are now, took place gradually and consistently and with plenty of my own input as well as that of many other folks. But having to revise a specific piece very quickly, based on very direct and blunt (in the best ways) feedback from Avi, was a trial by fire—and the results, as I detail in that post, were so striking as to leave no doubt that the work was worth it. I’ve never looked back.

Next anniversary tribute tomorrow,

Ben

PS. Please feel free to say hi and share any blog responses or ideas in comments!

Tuesday, November 4, 2025

November 4, 2025: 15 Years (!) of AmericanStudying: Heather Cox Richardson’s Help

[15 years ago this week, I started this here public scholarly blog. There have been lots of twists and turns since, and the best ones have been aided & abetted by wonderful folks. So for my 15th (!) anniversary series, I wanted to pay tribute to a handful of those moments and people, leading up to a special weekend tribute to my first and best reader!]

I said much of what I’d want to say about the role Heather Cox Richardson and her The Historical Society website played in the evolution of my own blogging and public scholarship in this November 2023 anniversary post. But I didn’t say clearly enough there a crucial reason why Heather and her site’s reaching out and sharing my work and voice were so meaningful—because her book The Death of Reconstruction: Race, Labor, and Politics in the Post-Civil War North, 1865-1901 (2001) was a model for me of accessible yet thoroughly analytical academic writing, skills she had only enhanced with a then-recent project like Wounded Knee: Party Politics and the Road to an American Massacre (2010). For such an impressive and well-established academic scholar to be both thinking about public scholarly and online work and supporting and championing mine was without question a push I needed to take my career to the next stage.

Next anniversary tribute tomorrow,

Ben

PS. Please feel free to say hi and share any blog responses or ideas in comments!

Monday, November 3, 2025

November 3, 2025: 15 Years (!) of AmericanStudying: Rob Velella’s Role Modeling

[15 years ago this week, I started this here public scholarly blog. There have been lots of twists and turns since, and the best ones have been aided & abetted by wonderful folks. So for my 15th (!) anniversary series, I wanted to pay tribute to a handful of those moments and people, leading up to a special weekend tribute to my first and best reader!]

Eight years ago, as part of my 7th anniversary series, I paid tribute to Rob Velella, and started that post by highlighting what his American Literary Blog meant to me as I was starting my own public scholarly blog. I honestly don’t remember how Rob and I got connected, but I believe it was when he responded positively on Twitter when I first started sharing my blog posts (January 2011, that would have been). I know he was entirely supportive of this new AmericanStudies blog that seemed similar to his, which had been around for about a year by that point; he easily could have seen mine as a competitor, but that ain’t Rob’s style. If Rob’s blog provided an excellent role model for the kind of short-form daily public scholarly writing I was hoping to do, his actions, conversations, and whole online public scholarly identity offered crucial role models of their own. I’m sure I would have muddled through those layers of this new stage of my career and life in any case, but I’m equally sure that they wouldn’t have been as successful, and I know they wouldn’t have been as enjoyable. I’m forever grateful to Rob for helping get them off to a start that was both, and remains so these 15 years later.

Next anniversary tribute tomorrow,

Ben

PS. Please feel free to say hi and share any blog responses or ideas in comments!

Saturday, November 1, 2025

November 1, 2025: First Guest Post at the New Website!

Just a quick note that, as I transition this blog over to the new Black & White & Read All Over site (after February 1st it will be only over there, so bookmark that site now!), this weekend features my first Guest Post over there, Regina Mills on Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? and Latinx representation in video games! Please check that out, & make sure to subscribe to the new site to get all the blog posts over there going forward!

Thanks,

Ben

November 1-2, 2025: October 2025 Recap

[A Recap of the month that was in AmericanStudying.]

September 29: The Thrilla in Manila: Boxing and America: A series for the iconic boxing match’s 50th anniversary kicks off with why AmericanStudiers can’t forget the sweet science, & why I wish we could.

September 30: The Thrilla in Manila: Ali’s Evolution: The series continues with what led up to an inspiring 1967 moment, what it changed, & why it still matters.

October 1: The Thrilla in Manila: Marcos and the U.S.: Two distinct & equally important ways to AmericanStudy the corrupt leader behind the fight, as the series punches on.

October 2: The Thrilla in Manila: Joe Frazier and Boxing Villains: In honor of Ali’s opponent (although he really wasn’t villainous at all), a few classic adversaries across boxing & American history.

October 3: The Thrilla in Manila: Part 3s: The series on the third in a boxing trilogy concludes with a handful of other legendary Part 3s.

October 4-5: Lou Moore’s Sensational Sports Studying: But I couldn’t share a BoxingStudying series without paying tribute to our best BoxingStudier!

October 6: American Crime Fiction: Ross MacDonald: A series inspired by Elmore Leonard’s centennial kicks off with the author who exemplifies one of the most American literary genres.

October 7: American Crime Fiction: Tony Hillerman: The series continues with a great mystery series that captures the lure of the Southwest.

October 8: American Crime Fiction: Attica Locke: A link-tastic post featuring a handful of the many places where I’ve written about one of my favorite 21C authors.

October 9: American Crime Fiction: Tana French: Two ways to AmericanStudy the talented & popular Irish mystery novelist, as the series solves on.

October 10: American Crime Fiction: Presumed Innocent: The series concludes with the multiple layers of revelations built into the best mystery fiction.

October 11-12: American Crime Fiction: Elmore Leonard: For Leonard’s 100th, a special tribute post highlighting five of the countless great adaptations of his works.

October 13: Not Just (Video) Games: Pong: For the 40th anniversary of the first Nintendo gaming system, a video game studying series kicks off with two lesser-known moments in the history of the first blockbuster arcade game.

October 14: Not Just (Video) Games: Pac-Man: The series continues with three of the many ways Namco’s 1980 smash helped change the game(s).

October 15: Not Just (Video) Games: Oregon Trail: Three takeaways from the pioneering educational game, as the series plays on.

October 16: Not Just (Video) Games: GTA: Three aspects of video games that a focus on the Grand Theft Auto series can help us discuss.

October 17: Not Just (Video) Games: Video Game Studiers: The series concludes with five of the many books & scholars to read for more in-depth video game studying.

October 18-19: Not Just (Video) Games: Nintendo Classics: For Nintendo’s 40th, one of my favorite posts in a while, life lessons from some of the legendary system’s most iconic games.

October 20: Erie Canal Studying: Starting the Project: For the 200th anniversary of the waterway’s opening, an Erie Canal series kicks off with three figures who helped construct it.

October 21: Erie Canal Studying: DeWitt Clinton: The series continues with three additional contexts for the political figure most responsible for the Canal.

October 22: Erie Canal Studying: Canvass White: Two contrasting yet interconnected experiences with England that the pioneering civil engineer carried with him, as the series rolls on.

October 23: Erie Canal Studying: Ely Parker: Two ways to think about a Renaissance American’s contributions to the Canal.

October 24: Erie Canal Studying: That Song: The series concludes where you knew it would, with the silly song that has a lot to tell us about folk music & culture.

October 25-26: My Favorite Civil Engineer!: And a weekend tribute that likewise goes where you knew it would, to my favorite civil engineer Aidan Railton!

October 27: AmericanStudying a Springsteen “Lost” Album: “Inyo” & Los Angeles: A series inspired by the recently released “lost” album that instantly became a favorite kicks off with two ways its stunning title track added to my sense of LA histories.

October 28: AmericanStudying a Springsteen “Lost” Album: “Adelita” & Mexican American Wars: The series continues with one obviously important layer to the album’s most historical song, & a more subtle one.

October 29: AmericanStudying a Springsteen “Lost” Album: “The Aztec Dance” y Anzaldúa: One importantly specific & one beautifully universal layer to my favorite song on the album, as the series listens on.

October 30: AmericanStudying a Springsteen “Lost” Album: “The Lost Charro” & My Book: A more pessimistic & a more optimistic way to read a unique Springsteen song.

October 31: AmericanStudying a Springsteen “Lost” Album: Inyo & Western Stars: The series and month conclude with how we can see Inyo as a complement to another great recent Bruce album, & why it’s much more than that.

15th anniversary series starts Monday,

Ben

PS. Topics you’d like to see covered in this space? Guest Posts you’d like to contribute? Lemme know!

Friday, October 31, 2025

October 31, 2025: AmericanStudying a Springsteen “Lost” Album: Inyo & Western Stars

[This past June, Bruce Springsteen released Tracks 2, a stunning collection featuring 7 previously unreleased full albums (totaling 9 LPs) from the early 80s through the late 2010s. It’s full of great music, but our favorite was Inyo, an album that connects to so many American histories. So this week I’ll AmericanStudy four songs & the album overall!]

How we can see Inyo as a vital complement to a great recent album, and why it’s much more than that.

In the beautiful bridge of “Western Stars,” the title track to Bruce Springsteen’s excellent 2019 album of the same name, the unnamed speaker—a former bit player in film Westerns (“Once I was shot by John Wayne, yeah, it was towards the end”) who has been reduced to acting in commercials and living off his semi-fame (“That one scene’s bought me a thousand drinks/Set me up and I’ll tell it for you, friend”)—adds an interesting new community into the song’s landscape: “Sundays I take my El Camino, throw my saddle in and go/East to the desert where the charros, they still ride and rope/Our American brothers cross the wire and bring the old ways with them/Tonight the western stars are shining bright again.” As far as I can remember, that’s the album’s only overt reference to Hispanic Americans, and while I wish there more, I really love that in the title track Springsteen not only includes that community, but also rightfully has his white speaker call them “Our American brothers.”

Western Stars is perhaps my wife’s favorite Bruce album (it’s definitely on the short list, anyway), and through revisiting it (and also watching Thom Zimny’s stunning film adaptation) with her I’ve come to appreciate it as well (especially the first half, from “Hitch Hikin’” through “Chasin’ Wild Horses”; I think it loses its way a bit in the second, although I absolutely love the final song, “Moonlight Motel”). But in truth, I think it needed Inyo to fully succeed in its goals of representing the myths and realities, the memories and stories, the conflicts and communities of the American West (all themes with which Bruce has been obsessed for a long time). On Western Stars Springsteen portrays those themes in overarching ways, with largely universal songs that could be depicting characters of any race, ethnicity, culture, etc. (with the exception of that bridge in “Western Stars,” that is); while Inyo both connects those overarching themes to Mexican American and indigenous communities and reminds us that the American West, perhaps more than any other part of this foundationally diverse nation, has always been unbelievably multicultural in the worst and the best ways.

So Western Stars is improved significantly when paired with Inyo; but while I think the latter album also benefits from the pairing, I would want to make the strongest possible argument that Inyo doesn’t need any other album or work to be both great and important. I won’t pretend to have a completely exhaustive knowledge of American cultural history (not yet—I’ve still got time!), but I really don’t know many works by white American artists, in any medium, that portray multilayered Mexican American histories and communities with more depth and thoughtfulness than does this previously unreleased “lost” album from the Boss. To say that that project is even more important in 2025 than it would have been at any prior point in our history is both to state the obvious and to add one more layer to the case for why Inyo is a truly important addition to our cultural landscape.   

October Recap this weekend,

Ben

PS. What do you think? Favorites from Tracks 2 you’d share?

Thursday, October 30, 2025

October 30, 2025: AmericanStudying a Springsteen “Lost” Album: “The Lost Charro” & My Book

[This past June, Bruce Springsteen released Tracks 2, a stunning collection featuring 7 previously unreleased full albums (totaling 9 LPs) from the early 80s through the late 2010s. It’s full of great music, but our favorite was Inyo, an album that connects to so many American histories. So this week I’ll AmericanStudy four songs & the album overall!]

On a more pessimistic and a more optimistic way to read a unique Springsteen song.

Bruce has sung in falsetto on recorded songs a couple times in the past, and occasionally does so in concerts as well, so the moments in the chorus of “The Lost Charro” when his voice moves into that upper vocal register are not necessarily new (if certainly unusual). But I think my BruceStudying credentials are strong enough that when I say I’ve never quite heard Bruce sound like he does in “The Last Charro,” you’ll trust me that the sound of this song is quite unique in the Boss’s canon, and well worth checking out if you haven’t already. Even for someone who is first and foremost (and really throughout and last) a lyrics guy, one of the pleasures I found in the Tracks 2 “lost” albums was the chance to hear Bruce do so much musical experimentation that we wouldn’t generally find in his official body of work—including a country album and one built entirely on hip hop drum loops, for example—and I enjoyed that in “The Lost Charro” as well.

If we turn to the song’s lyrics, I’d argue that it’s one of the most interestingly ambiguous tracks on not just this album but also across the whole of Tracks 2. On its face, the song depicts the gradual but unmistakable tragedy captured in its title: the speaker’s loss of his past identity as a charro (a traditional Mexican horseman), which has been replaced by his present work as a migrant laborer in the Southwest U.S. That narrative builds to the song’s most overt and painful lines, in its final verse: “I’ve traded in my leather for the denim of my campesinos/Godmother, I’ll return home soon you’ll see/And tonight in my dreams…” When the two young Mexican brothers at the center of Springsteen’s earlier, similar song “Sinaloa Cowboys” (1995) prepare to migrate to the U.S., their father says to them, “My sons one thing you will learn/For everything the north gives, it exacts a price in return.” The price those two pay is far more violent and tragic than that of the speaker of “The Lost Charro,” but there’s no doubt he too has paid a price, and it’s a sad one.

But y’all know me well enough to know I’m gonna look for a more critical optimistic way to read even a sad song like this one, and I think we can find one in the title of one of the chapters in my book We the People: “Mexican Americans Have Never Left” (I wanted to add, “Motherfucker,” but I hope and believe it’s implied). One of the most pernicious narratives around immigration in recent decades (a very, very, very competitive list to be sure) is the idea that Mexican immigrants (and really any Hispanic immigrants as framed by this narrative, but the focus is frequently on Mexican arrivals) represent a change, a relatively new community in the United States. Literally nothing could be further from the truth. So yes, the speaker of “The Lost Charro” has seen his identity change, from a more traditional to a more modern one; and yes, more importantly, the modern community he’s part of need to be much better paid and supported and respected. But to my mind his isn’t the story of a shift from Mexico to the U.S., because Mexican Americans have never left. Like most of the songs on Inyo, this unusual Bruce ballad can help us better remember those histories.

Last InyoStudying tomorrow,

Ben

PS. What do you think? Favorites from Tracks 2 you’d share?

Wednesday, October 29, 2025

October 29, 2025: AmericanStudying a Springsteen “Lost” Album: “The Aztec Dance” y Anzaldúa

[This past June, Bruce Springsteen released Tracks 2, a stunning collection featuring 7 previously unreleased full albums (totaling 9 LPs) from the early 80s through the late 2010s. It’s full of great music, but our favorite was Inyo, an album that connects to so many American histories. So this week I’ll AmericanStudy four songs & the album overall!]

On one importantly specific and one beautifully universal layer to my favorite song on the album.

In this May 2021 post I both highlighted a number of prior posts on Gloria Anzaldúa and her book Borderlands/La Frontera and added some additional thoughts. I’d ask you to check out that post if you would, and then come on back here for a couple of ways in which Springsteen’s “The Aztec Dance” can be put in conversation with that author and text.

Welcome back! I could spend all day listing things I love about Borderlands/La Frontera, but high on the list would have to be Anzaldúa’s use of language, mythology, perspective/narration, and many other stylistic elements to capture the presence of indigenous history, spirituality, sexuality, and more in her identity as a Mexican American woman. In “The Aztec Dance” Springsteen uses a conversation between two Mexican American female characters to do much the same: when teenage Teresa, wearing a traditional flower crown and performing the titular dance at her “high school gym,” righteously complains to her mother that “Ma they call us greaser, they call us wetback/Here in this land that once was ours,” her mother responds (for the rest of the song’s lyrics) with an extensive descriptive of Aztec culture, community, and history. She concludes by recognizing both what has been lost but what endures in her daughter: “Our city gone and left in ruins, they cry bitter tears in another world/But here in this world, my daughter, they have you.” I don’t think even the great Gloria Anzaldúa could have said it any better.

That’s a powerfully specific layer to this wonderful song, and I don’t want to minimize it in any way. But I also believe that this song, like Anzaldúa’s book as well, is an incredible rumination on universal themes of heritage and memory, loss and persistence, that are present for each and every person, family, and community. That’s probably true everywhere, but it’s unquestionably true here in the United States, a nation defined by both the inspiring cross-cultural transformations I traced in my second book and the tragic discriminations I’ve written about throughout my work. In the best and the worst ways, the story of America can make it difficult for us to hold onto the heritages that pre-date our contemporary American experiences and identities, something I’ve thought about a lot when it comes to my own Eastern European Jewish ancestry on my mother’s side for example. But as Springsteen’s beautiful song, and especially its very moving conclusion, reminds us, those heritages are still with us whether we overtly remember them or not—they are literally and figuratively embodied in the young Americans who carry them forward into our vitally diverse future.

Next InyoStudying tomorrow,

Ben

PS. What do you think? Favorites from Tracks 2 you’d share?

Tuesday, October 28, 2025

October 28, 2025: AmericanStudying a Springsteen “Lost” Album: “Adelita” & Mexican American Wars

[This past June, Bruce Springsteen released Tracks 2, a stunning collection featuring 7 previously unreleased full albums (totaling 9 LPs) from the early 80s through the late 2010s. It’s full of great music, but our favorite was Inyo, an album that connects to so many American histories. So this week I’ll AmericanStudy four songs & the album overall!]

On one obviously important layer to the album’s most historical song, and a more subtle one.

As I hope this week’s series will clearly illustrate, all of Inyo is about the past in the thematic and thoughtful ways that the best historical fiction (per my definition of the genre, at least) always is. But only one of the songs is explicitly and entirely set during a real historical period and event, and that’s the album’s third track, “Adelita,” the speaker of which, Johnny, is a young man from Texas who finds himself riding with Pancho Villa’s Mexican revolutionaries due to his (the speaker’s) love for the titular revolutionary woman. As he puts it in the opening verse, “I’m far from my home now a Texacan soldier/It’s not for fortune or risk to the battlefield I fight/I fell in love with Adelita with my very soul/We’ll stand in arms this night.” From there, he moves us through a number of historically accurate details about these characters and the setting alike, before concluding with a beautiful series of lines after Adelita’s death: “Tonight, I lay in the mountains with the campesinos/My mind at peace from the vows I’ve made/I know I’ll never see Texas again/Your portrait I carry deep in my breast pocket/My rifle firing into the campana, I ride with you ‘round my heart/Protected from this death by beauty.”

Even amidst this album full of songs about the American Southwest and Hispanic American identities and communities—topics that have deeply interested Bruce since at least 1995’s The Ghost of Tom Joad album, with which the first Inyo recordings were contemporary—“Adelita” represents a striking new layer. It’s true that the speaker is (we assume) a white man from Texas, but almost every line and detail in the song focuses on its Mexican Revolutionary title character and setting. I’m willing to wager that to almost all white Americans—and probably all Americans who aren’t Mexican American, for that matter—the Mexican Revolution has no specific place in their collective memories, other than (mostly unknowingly) in the form of the folk tune “La Cucaracha” (which predates the Revolution but became popular in Mexico during that time, and these days is sung by American schoolchildren in Spanish classes). Of course this one Springsteen song can’t and shouldn’t take the place of an in-depth history lesson, but it’s nonetheless a creative work from one of the most prominent American artists of the last half-century that brings its audience, like its speaker, into the world of Mexican Revolutionary soldiers and events.

There’s another, even more strikingly revisionist layer to this song’s histories, though. The U.S. had a conflicted relationship to Pancho Villa, but for much of his time leading the Revolution it saw him as an enemy, to the point that President Woodrow Wilson organized a 1916-17 “punitive expedition” that sought to capture Villa. And that wasn’t without cause, as Villa had not only attacked U.S. corporate interests in Mexico, but in March 1916 he and his troops crossed the border and attacked the small town of Columbus, New Mexico, killing 17 Americans. (That too wasn’t without cause, however, as Villa was seeking revenge for U.S. backing of his revolutionary opponents.) Those overarching contexts are beyond the focus of Springsteen’s youthful speaker, but they make it even more striking that this young man from Texas is now fighting “side-by-side with Francisco Villa,” and thus quite possibly taking part in the raid on a U.S. community. It might seem that he is thus joining with “the enemy,” but I would argue that his status as a “Texacan soldier” makes him the heir of a long line of Tejanos whose identity bridges these two nations and reminds us of the border’s thorough porousness.

Next InyoStudying tomorrow,

Ben

PS. What do you think? Favorites from Tracks 2 you’d share?

Monday, October 27, 2025

October 27, 2025: AmericanStudying a Springsteen “Lost” Album: “Inyo” & Los Angeles

[This past June, Bruce Springsteen released Tracks 2, a stunning collection featuring 7 previously unreleased full albums (totaling 9 LPs) from the early 80s through the late 2010s. It’s full of great music, but our favorite was Inyo, an album that connects to so many American histories. So this week I’ll AmericanStudy four songs & the album overall!]

On two ways the stunning title track added to my sense of LA histories.

Way back in February 2012, I dedicated a blog post to one of my favorite films, Chinatown (1974), and how it can help us analyze the history and identity of Los Angeles. In lieu of a full first paragraph here I’ll ask you to check out that post and then come on back for a couple thoughts on how “Inyo” reflects and extends some significant shifts in my thinking since then.

Obviously I’m aware—as anyone who’s seen Chinatown has to be—that the white men who built modern Los Angeles in the early 20th century were not always beacons of goodness (to put it very mildly). But in that post, I still referred to William Mulholland as simply a “particularly visionary city planner,” and at least implied that his aqueduct project was a straightforward public good. So I really appreciate that Springsteen’s song “Inyo,” the speaker of which first works on the aqueduct and then helps bomb it as part of the 1910s-20s “California water wars,” highlights how that aqueduct and its vital resources were consistently shaped by wealth and power. Moreover, that speaker includes not just class but race and ethnicity in his story, narrating, “My uncle pushed the Paiute from their valley/Cut out his homestead in blood.” Chinatown includes one young Native American kid (probably—it’s hard to say for sure) in its vision of LA, but this moment in Springsteen’s song really adds to those histories.

All of those histories have very much continued into our 21st century moment, and as my wife and I listened along to “Inyo” I was delighted to find that Springsteen’s speaker brings us up to the present in the song’s stunning final verse: “Tonight the Santa Ana’s drawing west across the Mojave/Blowing fire and dust onto L.A. County windowsills/Bill Mulholland and Fred Eaton are dead in their graves/The Queen of Angels, she remains thirsty still.” Back in this October 2021 post I connected California wildfires to Chinatown through the lens of David Wyatt’s excellent book Five Fires, and of course that unfolding contemporary history has only become more potent and destructive in the four years since. And I really love how Springsteen’s song connects our current crises back to the histories of and battles over water in Los Angeles, one more layer to how fully and beautifully this opening title song sets the stage for the whole of Inyo.

Next InyoStudying tomorrow,

Ben

PS. What do you think? Favorites from Tracks 2 you’d share?

Saturday, October 25, 2025

October 25-26, 2025: My Favorite Civil Engineer!

[On October 26, 1825, the Erie Canal officially opened. So this week, I’ve honored the 200th anniversary of that huge & hugely important project by highlighting a handful of figures connected to it, leading up to this special weekend tribute to my favorite current civil engineer!]

As will come as no surprise to anyone who knows me, I’ve had the chance to highlight my older son Aidan’s ongoing personal and pre-professional interest in civil engineering many times, both in this space (which is the case for the prior two hyperlinks as well) and in my Saturday Evening Post Considering History column. But I couldn’t end a blog series on a civil engineering project without paying tribute to Aidan, and want in particular to highlight two different ways I’ve learned a lot in recent months from his ongoing experiences:

1)      This past Spring semester, the second in his first year at Vanderbilt, Aidan took a wonderful class on Urban Ecologies. Toward the end of that class, he wrote an amazing paper analyzing multiple layers of the city’s histories through pictures of one particular spot, connecting them through a fascinating and compelling overarching use of the concept of a palimpsest. The paper was entirely successful for its focal assignment, but it also significantly shifted my own perspective on not just the landscapes around us, but on how we can use that palimpsest framing to analyze community and history alike. Which is, I would argue, a profoundly important question for civil engineers as well as for all the rest of us!

2)      Over the summer, Aidan got to continue working on a couple engineering projects with Vanderbilt faculty, grad students, and fellow undergrads; he was able to do that work virtually and thus live with us back in Massachusetts while doing so, and as his Dad I’ll admit that was my favorite part of the experience! My second favorite part was seeing how much he enjoyed and threw himself into the work, which renewed my confidence that he’s in the right major (for now, obviously these things can and often do change). But I also greatly enjoyed seeing the true diversity of engineering projects that this pair reflect: one is focused on testing how smartwatches can measure heat’s effect on the wearer’s body; and the other is a study of traffic patterns at a particular Nashville intersection and what they reveal about transportation in the city more broadly. Canvass White and Ely Parker would approve!  

Next series starts Monday,

Ben

PS. What do you think?

Friday, October 24, 2025

October 24, 2025: Erie Canal Studying: That Song

[On October 26, 1825, the Erie Canal officially opened. So this week, I’ll honor the 200th anniversary of that huge & hugely important project by highlighting a handful of figures connected to it, leading up to a special weekend tribute to my favorite current civil engineer!]

On a few ways the silly “Erie Canal Song” helps us think about the communal role of folk music.

My wife informs me that she never once sung “Low Bridge, Everybody Down” (also known as the “Erie Canal Song,” “Fifteen Years on the Erie Canal,” and “Mule Named Sal,” among other sobriquets) in school, so maybe my experience here isn’t typical. But all I know is that, as an elementary schoolkid in early 1980s Virginia, I sang that song with my peers enough times that my memories of the experience are still emblazoned on my mind these forty-plus years later (maybe that’s based on just one time singing it, but I sure hope not because I’d really like to save that room for other singular memories if so). And in any case, it’s pretty striking that Tin Pan Alley songwriter Thomas S. Allen’s little ditty about an Erie Canal barge worker and his trusty mule Sal, apparently originally composed in 1905, first recorded by Billy Murray in 1912, and published by Allen and F.B. Haviland Publishing Company in 1913, was still going strong nearly three quarters of a century later and many hundreds of miles away from that titular throughway.

One interesting thing about that timing of the song’s creation is that it came right as the Erie Canal was about to be replaced by the New York State Barge Canal, on which construction began in 1905; similarly, mule barges would be replaced on that new canal by engine-powered one. The song’s original chorus, which features the repeated line “Fifteen years on the Erie Canal” (over the decades it has been gradually changed to “Fifteen miles” instead, and I believe that’s what I sang as a kid) drives home the passage of time, and the early line “We’d better look ‘round for a job old gal” suggests that the speaker knows what has or at least soon will come with that passing time. But at the same time, much of the song is written in the present tense, including that other repeated chorus phrase “low bridge, everybody down,” bringing the audience into the work world of the speaker and Sal. I’d say both of those layers reflect key communal roles for folk music: representing work worlds and experiences, especially for audiences who might not otherwise be aware of them; and expressing nostalgia for bygone folkways, especially right as they’re passing.

The song’s original final verse and chorus add another layer, though: “You’ll soon hear them sing everything about my gal, fifteen years on the Erie Canal/It’s a darned fool ditty ‘bout my darned fool Sal, fifteen years on the Erie Canal/Oh every band will play it soon, darned fool words and darned fool tune!/You’ll hear it sung everywhere you go, from Mexico to Buffalo//Low bridge, everybody down, low bridge, I’ve got the finest mule in town/She’s a perfect, perfect lady, and she blushes like a gal/If she hears you sing about her and the Erie Canal.” I really like this meta-textual addition to the song, as well as Allen’s confident (and accurate) assurance that his song will soon be sung everywhere (although I don’t believe we got to this verse in our classroom version). And I really like thinking about Sal both aware of and being pleased by the fact that she’s the subject of that widespread singing. But those aren’t just delightful little additions, they’re also a compelling moment of self-reflection about how and why we both write and sing folk songs—and as young Ben can attest, when they’re good we sing them for much longer than fifteen years.

Special post this weekend,

Ben

PS. What do you think?

Thursday, October 23, 2025

October 23, 2025: Erie Canal Studying: Ely Parker

[On October 26, 1825, the Erie Canal officially opened. So this week, I’ll honor the 200th anniversary of that huge & hugely important project by highlighting a handful of figures connected to it, leading up to a special weekend tribute to my favorite current civil engineer!]

On two ways to think about a Renaissance American’s contributions to the Canal.

First things first: I’ve written about the amazing Ely Parker (1828-1895) many times in this space, including this January post on the Erie Canal but also this one on Parker himself, this brief one begging for a biopic, this one on Ulysses S. Grant’s friends, and likely others I’m not remembering right now. I’d love if you could check out those prior posts, and then come on back for a couple further thoughts on the Canal connections in particular.

Welcome back! Ely Parker was such a badass Renaissance dude that he only enrolled at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute (RPI) to study civil engineering when the New York Supreme Court refused to accept him to the New York bar as he could not gain U.S. citizenship; all of this, by the way, took place before his 20th birthday. Despite that professional setback Parker would spend the next couple decades continuing to fight (alongside the activist white lawyer and future New York Attorney General John Martindale) for Seneca land rights, winning a series of important legal victories in the process. But I also have to believe that the proximity of his shift to civil engineering makes clear that he likewise thought of that profession (much like yesterday’s subject Canvass White did) as a way to serve his local communities, and thus that his appointment as the Erie Canal’s resident engineer in Rochester was far from a coincidence (that hyperlinked article makes the same point at great length).

Yet it’s important to note that that’s not the only way we could link Parker’s canal work to his Native American community. As I discussed at length in this post, toward the end of his life Parker both received extensive criticism from fellow Native Americans on and himself expressed doubts about his work as (for example) President Grant’s Commissioner of Indian Affairs. I don’t think for a second that any part of Parker’s career and life can overshadow his lifelong dedication to his communities, most especially his tribal one; but at the same time any 19th century Native American who worked with the federal government was, to put it simply but not inaccurately, aiding and abetting the enemy. Given what the Erie Canal, like any mammoth public transportation project, meant for many local communities, it’s fair to say that Parker’s connection to it represents another complicated, multilayered side of this fraught, fascinating, foundational figure.

Last Canal context tomorrow,

Ben

PS. What do you think?

Wednesday, October 22, 2025

October 22, 2025: Erie Canal Studying: Canvass White

[On October 26, 1825, the Erie Canal officially opened. So this week, I’ll honor the 200th anniversary of that huge & hugely important project by highlighting a handful of figures connected to it, leading up to a special weekend tribute to my favorite current civil engineer!]

On two contrasting yet interconnected experiences that the pioneering civil engineer carried with him throughout his short but hugely influential life.

As I briefly mentioned in Monday’s post, in 1817, after he had been working on the Erie Canal for about a year (under the supervision of judge turned chief engineer Benjamin Wright), Canvass White persuaded Governor DeWitt Clinton to support and fund a research trip to England. There he spent more than a year traveling over 2000 miles on foot throughout the country, studying the construction and operation of canals. I don’t think it’s any coincidence that not long after his return home he developed and patented a groundbreaking new way of producing waterproof hydraulic cement from limestone, nor that he then permitted the use of his patented formula only for work on the construction of canal locks. You can’t tell the story of Early Republic America without thinking of the continued English influence, and White clearly had learned across the pond not just how to make the most of one’s home terrain, but also how to do so in service of his fellow countrymen.

That English experience and influence is particularly interesting in White’s case because just a few years before his trip he had been fighting against the English. In the spring of 1814, while he was attending Connecticut’s Fairfield Academy to study mathematics, minerology, and surveying under the legendary Revolutionary-era Dr. Joseph Noyes, White temporarily left school to volunteer for the U.S. Army during the War of 1812. He was commissioned as a lieutenant and led a company of volunteers in the July 1814 assault on and capture of Ontario’s Fort Erie; he was severely wounded during that battle, but after returning home and convalescing did complete his studies and move into his work on the Erie Canal. Yet his war wounds would never entirely heal, and seem to have been the cause of the lifelong ailments that led him to move to Florida in search of a more temperate climate and tragically die very young, in 1834 at the age of just 44.

Those two defining experiences clearly reflect opposed perspectives on England, and thus illustrate that White had a profoundly open mind, to be able, just a few years after that grievous injury, to travel so fully throughout this former foe. But I would also argue that they can and should be interconnected, and not just because White certainly carried both with him for his remaining couple decades of life. To my mind they exemplify a young man who would go to any lengths, literally and figuratively, to do what he believed necessary to work for the good of his community and peers. The Preamble of the Constitution includes “promote the general Welfare” as one of the ways in which “We the People” hope “to form a more perfect Union.” That first phrase can be interpreted in various ways to be sure, but I don’t know that I’ve ever encountered a life that included multiple actions so intended within such a short period of time as that of Canvass White.

Next Canal context tomorrow,

Ben

PS. What do you think?

Tuesday, October 21, 2025

October 21, 2025: Erie Canal Studying: DeWitt Clinton

[On October 26, 1825, the Erie Canal officially opened. So this week, I’ll honor the 200th anniversary of that huge & hugely important project by highlighting a handful of figures connected to it, leading up to a special weekend tribute to my favorite current civil engineer!]

I highlighted the most famous political layers to DeWitt (and his even more famous uncle George) in Monday’s post, so here are three additional contexts, ones more closely linked to the transportation project that he made possible:

1)      Steam: In 1831, the Mohawk and Hudson Railroad (M&H) built a new steam engine that they named the DeWitt Clinton. Clinton had died in office in 1828, and it made sense for a New York railway company to honor him in this way; moreover, the Erie Canal was seen as a transportation competitor to the railroad, so the locomotive naming could be read as a peace gesture. But it’s also worth noting that, in an era when steam navigation was still new and at least somewhat controversial, Clinton consistently championed the technology as a vital resource for not just transportation (in shipping as well as railroads) but also and especially the public good.

2)      Freemasonry: Clinton was initiated into New York’s “Holland” Masonic lodge when he was just 21 years old, was elected Grand Master of the state’s Grand Lodge 16 years later, and for the last 12 years of his life was the Grand Master of the Grand Encampment of Knights Templar in the U.S., a national organization he helped create. His connection to Freemasonry became a source of potential scandal in 1826, when a man named William Morgan threatened to publish a book exposing the organization’s rituals and subsequently disappeared for good; Governor Clinton issued three proclamations offering rewards for information, but to not avail. Yet without eliding that mysterious and tragic case, I’d add that it seems important to note that one of the greatest champions of our most elaborate civil engineering project was a Mason!

3)      Jesse Hawley: Clinton began his affiliation with the Erie Canal project around 1810, and was a founding member of the Erie Canal Commission organized at that time. But his own interest in the project was due to another and even more compelling figure: Jesse Hawley, a New York flour merchant whose transportation debts (due directly to the lack of affordable operations for traversing the state) led him to spend 20 months in debtors’ prison between 1806 and 1808; and who during that time wrote and published fourteen essays arguing for the canal in the Genesee Messenger under the pseudonym “Hercules.” I love that this huge national project began in many ways with one man writing his way through an unjust prison sentence, and DeWitt Clinton can help us remember him.

Next Canal context tomorrow,

Ben

PS. What do you think?