Andy Mink: My name is Andy Mink, I’m the vice president for education at the National Humanities Center. I’m with Ina Dixon, who is the program coordinator at History United, which is part of the Virginia Foundation for the Humanities, and located in Danville, Virginia.
I’ve asked Ina to share with us her Humanities Moment. I know the last time you and I talked about this, you said something that stuck with me. I’ve been trying it out in a couple of places. That was the sense of interacting with something that makes you feel less lonely or more connected to others. I’d love to hear your Humanities Moment, maybe to get your thoughts on what a Humanities Moment might be, both as a process, a way of knowing, as well as a moment itself. Then share with us what you brought today.
Ina Dixon: Great, thanks, Andy. Well, I’d love to share with you a letter that my grandfather wrote to my grandmother. He was in World War II. In 1944, he was in the Battle of the Bulge. We have all of his letters—his name was Richard Smith Dixon—to Madeline Dixon, his wife, my grandmother. She was living in Kentucky at the time. She saved all of his letters and he didn’t save any of hers. She was always very angry about that. We have really one side of the story.
But my cousin transcribed all these letters. There’s very many that I love, but I’d just like to take one as a particular instance of a Humanities Moment and read a little bit of it, then explain why I found my Humanities Moment in this letter.
This is a letter dated on Christmas Day, 1944, somewhere in Belgium. It’s a very long letter actually. He’s complaining about the conditions, how cold it is, how he hates going to meetings. But at the end, he closes, “Remember, I’m thinking about you always and wondering how long it will be before we can be together again. I love you, sweetheart. Sometime we’ll crawl into those good old clean, white sheets and slumber off.”
Early in the letter, he’s talking about how dirty it is and how cold. If you think about the Battle of the Bulge, they’re fighting in the mud and in the cold winter. The idea of him thinking about clean, white sheets, it really humanizes my grandfather, who I didn’t really know. It humanizes a war that I didn’t live through.
But the fact that I can feel that same sense of the kind of relief and security that he must have been wishing for at this time, I think that is really what a Humanities Moment is all about. This letter provides that sort of connection for me.
I, myself, couldn’t sleep and I was haunted all the time by thoughts of what might happen to him in the future, and how did this happen, and thinking about the past. And I remember thinking in one of those late-night moments about “The Odyssey” and about the description of the sirens on the banks. Of Odysseus asking to be tied to the mast, and having beeswax in his sailors’ ears, and realizing I had these kind of spirits that were haunting me.
In that context, I remember thinking very directly, “I know what those sirens are. I know what that’s about.” I didn’t know before then what—at least for me—that poem was saying. And at that moment, I realized the sirens were really from the future and from the past, and that in dealing with this situation with our son—the only way to deal with this—was by staying very much in the present.
]]>About seven months ago, our son was in a tragic ski accident, and was in a coma for close to a month. And during that really painful time, we didn’t know what was going to happen. Was he ever going to wake up? Was he not going to wake up?
I, myself, couldn’t sleep and I was haunted all the time by thoughts of what might happen to him in the future, and how did this happen, and thinking about the past. And I remember thinking in one of those late-night moments about “The Odyssey” and about the description of the sirens on the banks. Of Odysseus asking to be tied to the mast, and having beeswax in his sailors’ ears, and realizing I had these kind of spirits that were haunting me.
In that context, I remember thinking very directly, “I know what those sirens are. I know what that’s about.” I didn’t know before then what—at least for me—that poem was saying. And at that moment, I realized the sirens were really from the future and from the past, and that in dealing with this situation with our son—the only way to deal with this—was by staying very much in the present.
To celebrate its 40th year anniversary of grant making, programming, and partnerships that connect Californians to each other, California Humanities invited a group of 40 prominent Californians to explore what the humanities mean to them. For more information visit California Humanities: We Are the Humanities.
]]>Actor John Cho shares how the humanities reveal answers to the most important questions in life. He notes his fondness of reading and how, during his childhood, the Little House on the Prairie books helped him process and understand his family’s place in America.
To celebrate its 40th year anniversary of grant making, programming, and partnerships that connect Californians to each other, California Humanities invited a group of 40 prominent Californians to explore what the humanities mean to them. For more information visit California Humanities: We Are the Humanities.
To celebrate its 40th year anniversary of grant making, programming, and partnerships that connect Californians to each other, California Humanities invited a group of 40 prominent Californians to explore what the humanities mean to them. For more information visit California Humanities: We Are the Humanities.
]]>Actor, author, director, and activist George Takei recalls his family’s resilience and ability to find joy, beauty, and love in simple treasures while imprisoned in Japanese internment camps in the 1940s. He notes that the humanities remind us that we are better than war and destruction and together are capable of bettering society.
To celebrate its 40th year anniversary of grant making, programming, and partnerships that connect Californians to each other, California Humanities invited a group of 40 prominent Californians to explore what the humanities mean to them. For more information visit California Humanities: We Are the Humanities.
To celebrate its 40th year anniversary of grant making, programming, and partnerships that connect Californians to each other, California Humanities invited a group of 40 prominent Californians to explore what the humanities mean to them. For more information visit California Humanities: We Are the Humanities.
]]>Tani G. Cantil-Sakauye is the 28th Chief Justice of the State of California. She recalls her experiences as a student in a humanities class in college, her upbringing in a Filipino community of hardworking women eager to pass on their traditions, and her realization that the humanities teach us to celebrate and respect the stories and uniqueness of people.
To celebrate its 40th year anniversary of grant making, programming, and partnerships that connect Californians to each other, California Humanities invited a group of 40 prominent Californians to explore what the humanities mean to them. For more information visit California Humanities: We Are the Humanities.