Benjamin A. Railton's Blog, page 299

February 5, 2016: Football Debates: Banning the Sport

[For each of the last few years, I’ve used Super Bowl week to AmericanStudy some football and/or sports topics. This week, I’ll focus on five football debates I haven’t already covered in those series, leading up to a special post on a few Super Bowl L storylines!]Two of the many complex and compelling layers to a campus-wide conversation.Throughout the Spring 2015 semester, Fitchburg State’s Center for Conflict Studies hosted a series of presentations, panels, and conversations focused on football, and more exactly on issues of violence and other controversies linked to that hugely popular sport. As I noted in this week’s series intro, I’ve blogged about football in Super Bowl series each of the last couple years, and have engaged briefly in those series with many of the issues that became part of these campus-wide conversations: concussionsand brain trauma; rapeand sexual violence; racism; the exploitation of college athletes. As much as I hope for this space to be conversational and communal, though, the truth is that it’s always framed and driven at least initially by my own interests, ideas, and perspectives, and so these semester-long Fitchburg State conversations about football and its debates added a great deal to my own perspective in multiple ways.One way was through those conversations that were planned, such as a late April roundtable discussion of the highly controversial question, “Should football be banned?” The roundtable featured the kinds of interdisciplinary voices and connections that represent the best of Fitchburg State as a scholarly community, with presentations by philosopher David Svolba, Director of Athletics Sue Lauder, sociologist G.L. Mazard Wallace, exercise physiologist Monica Maldari, and my English Studies colleague Kisha Tracy. But besides the value of putting these voices and frames in conversation, the roundtable also allowed each presenter to develop a particular part of his or her identity at compelling length: Monica, for example, talked about how her discipline and her knowledge impacted her family’s decision not to let their young son play football; while G.L. highlighted how we can’t discuss football without addressing the issues of ethics, race, work and labor, and social obligations that form key parts of his teaching and scholarship.Alongside those planned conversations, however, and offering an importantly complementary window into attitudes about and perceptions of these issues, were more impromptu debates that sprung up online. The most interesting such debate came in the wake of the aforementioned roundtable, in emails to the entire university community, and featured three voices: a Fitchburg State assistant football coach, who had attended the roundtable and offered his impassioned defense of the sport and its value; a Fitchburg State hockey coach, who had likewise attended and argued for the value of the roundtable itself as a layered scholarly conversation; and one of the event’s organizers, who followed up both emails in hopes of keeping the conversation going beyond that event and this spring’s series. These messages reminded us all that there are individuals, in our community and in every one, directly impacted by such debates and their potential outcomes and effects—the players most especially, in every sense, but lots of others as well. But they also made clear that in our 21stcentury moment, important public conversations don’t have to and can’t happen simply in individual places and times; they have to continue online, and I’d love for you to share any responses to help this one continue here!Super Bowl post this weekend,BenPS. What do you think?

February 4, 2016: Football Debates: Missouri Activism Update

[For each of the last few years, I’ve used Super Bowl week to AmericanStudy some football and/or sports topics. This week, I’ll focus on five football debates I haven’t already covered in those series, leading up to a special post on a few Super Bowl L storylines!]On the latest twist in one of 2015’s biggest stories, and why it’s vital to resist it.In one of my 2015 wrap up posts, I linked the inspiring protest by University of Missouri football players to the broader trend of campus protests, many of them linked to the #BlackLivesMatter movement and related issues. I stand by what I wrote in that post’s concluding paragraph, and would go even further—the Missouri football protest is one of the most unique and significant (and successful) examples of activism in American sports we’ve ever seen, and deserves not only our respect and praise but also our collective memory as one of the year’s—indeed, one of the young century’s—most meaningful collective actions.If a Missouri state legislator has his way, however, the football protest’s legacy could be something quite different. Republican Representative Rick Brattin proposed a bill (co-sponsored by Rep. Kurt Bahr) that would strip athletic scholarships from any student athlete at a public university who “calls, incites, supports, or participates in any strike,” as well as fining any coaches or staff members who encourage or enable such student protests (as, of course and inspiringly, did Missouri head coach Gary Pinkel). As the ESPN.com story hyperlinked above under “Republican Representative…” notes, the bill runs afoul of both the 1stAmendment and the actual funding of the University of Missouri’s athletic department (which comes from internal revenue and not state appropriations), and is thus perhaps more of a symbolic response to the football protests than an actual policy proposal. But even as the former, it’s a deeply troubling step and one that demands our attention and response.I can’t imagine a clearer and compelling such response to the bill than that provided by Missouri football player and protest leader Ian Simon (also quoted in that ESPN.com article): “They want to call us student-athletes, but they keep us out of the student part of it. I’m more than just a football player…Our sport is just a small part of who we are.” Indeed, perhaps the most troubling aspect of Brattin’s bill is the implicit but crystal clear assumption that college athletes are brought to campus and supported solely to participate in their sports, and that if they step outside that role, they can and should be stripped of their support. Given how much more money is made off of big-time college athletes (and especially football players) than they are ever compensated (in any form), this attitude is particularly galling. But in any case, the simple fact is that the vast, vast majority of college football players will never play professionally—meaning that their time in college is instead, as for their peers, a chance to prepare them for the rest of their lives. I shudder to think what life and world Brattin believes they should be prepared for.Last debate tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think?

February 3, 2016: Football Debates: Deflategate

[For each of the last few years, I’ve used Super Bowl week to AmericanStudy some football and/or sports topics. This week, I’ll focus on five football debates I haven’t already covered in those series, leading up to a special post on a few Super Bowl L storylines!]On how to AmericanStudy an over-covered story, and what we might talk about instead.In late 2015, Google announced the word/phrase that each state had Googled more frequently than any other state over the course of the preceding year. For New Hampshire, the winner was “Deflategate,” and I can only hope that it was as part of such searches as “How can I ensure I will never hear about Deflategate again?” and “Why am I still hearing about Deflategate in December?!” and “ARGH, Deflategate! ARRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!” Because I believe I speak for every New Englander, and perhaps every US citizen, when I note that if we never again hear about Tom Brady’s balls, we will all be infinitely happier as a result. (Although that hyperlinked YouTube video just might make the whole Year o’ Deflategate worth it.) I’m no New England Patriots fan, so am not disgruntled about the scandal or the ensuing punishment—just sick to death of the whole affair.So why am I writing a blog post on Deflategate, you might (very reasonably) ask? Well for one thing, it’s important to consider how we can approach and analyze a topic that feels talked and played out—as much as I try to focus in this space (and in my work more generally) on under-remembered histories and topics, there’s something to be said for the ability to engage with those that are already familiar and find ways to add to the conversations nonetheless. In this case, two of the most significant aspects of the story seem to be the interconnected issues of investigations and journalism in the digital age—as much as Deflategate originated with questions about events that took place on a football field, it quickly morphed into questions of whom Tom Brady had texted and how many times, what had happened to Brady’s cell phone, whether there was video surveillance footage of a Patriots ballboy and what had happened in the few seconds he was not covered by video cameras, and many similar digital and technological issues. There have been sports scandals since there have been sports, but Deflategate feels like one of the first truly 21stcentury scandals—a trend that’s only likely to be amplified in the coming years.Digital details (from a victim’s text messages to a suspect’s home security videos and, yes, another destroyed cell phone) were just as crucial to the investigations into and reporting on another recent Patriots and NFL scandal: the Aaron Hernandez murder trial. Yet as soon as Hernandez was released by the Patriots, long before his conviction and jail sentence, the story was consistently treated as entirely separate from the team or league. I’m not suggesting that the Patriots had any specific information about Hernandez’s criminal activities, nor that they’re in any way responsible for his actions. Instead, I’m simply noting that many of the elements of the Hernandez case—a tendency toward macho aggressiveness and violence, a culture of guns, a willingness to use brutal force to exercise one’s will—seem endemic of professional football’s culture, if not indeed purposefully cultivated among its players (perhaps not the gun culture one, but the others at least). If we’re going to spend a full year obsessing about NFL scandals, I’d suggest those as particularly good topics on which to focus.Next debate tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think?

February 2, 2016: Football Debates: Adrian Peterson

[For each of the last few years, I’ve used Super Bowl week to AmericanStudy some football and/or sports topics. This week, I’ll focus on five football debates I haven’t already covered in those series, leading up to a special post on a few Super Bowl L storylines!]On what’s not surprising about the Peterson debate, and what we must remember nonetheless.One of the biggest stories of this past NFL season was the return to the field, and to the upper echelon of the league’s players, of Minnesota Vikings running back and former league MVP Adrian Peterson. Peterson was suspended for almost the entire 2014 season after details came to light in early September 2014 of his violent (some, including this AmericanStudier, would argue abusive and criminal, and as that hyperlinked story indicates Peterson did accept a plea deal for those child abuse charges) treatment of his 4 year old son while disciplining him in May 2014. It wasn’t just that Peterson returned, nor that he once again led the league in rushing and led the Vikings to the playoffs; it was that many voices in the sports media, including a controversial Sports Illustrated cover storyand a number of commentators on ESPN, went out of their way to defend Peterson and reframe the abuse story in the process.Even though I disagree entirely with those defenses of Peterson (for reasons I’ll get to in a moment), I will admit to not being very surprised by them. Facebook posts are of course a highly anecdotal way of gathering evidence, but over the last few years one of the most consistent threads I’ve seen in such posts are laments for the absence of corporal punishment in today’s society, complemented by apparent nostalgia for the beatings the posters used to take from their own parents (a perspective voiced by Mike Ditka in the above hyperlinked ESPN story). Most of those I’ve seen posting such sentiments are themselves parents, meaning either that they wish they could discipline their children more physically or (and I suspect this to be the case most of the time) they would not do so yet still are participating in the creation of this myth-making about a corporal punishment-filled past. Myth-making, it’s worth adding, that is part of a larger, just as sweeping and mythic, narrative about kids today being too spoiled and coddled and thus disrespectful and entitledand so on.So it’s hard to separate debates about corporal punishment from those larger societal narratives—and, I should add, it’s also hard to argue about the Peterson case without recognizing that different parents discipline their children in very different ways, and that such differences are often based on cultural as well as other factors. Yet we can recognize and include all those elements in the debate and still return to this: Peterson stuffed his son’s mouth full of leaves, in order (he himself admits) to silence the child’s cries of pain and protest. As someone who believes strongly in the power of an individual’s voice, and who sees his job first and foremost as helping young people develop and strengthen their own voices, this act of silencing is perhaps the most brutal and abusive part of Peterson’s actions. And as a divorced father for whom, half the time, his son’s voices on the telephone are his daily connections to them, the image of Peterson taking away his child’s voice in this horrible moment in order (I can only assume) to smooth the process for the abuser is one I can’t and won’t forget. Indeed, whatever else we believe and argue in this debate, I believe none of us should forget it.Next debate tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think?

February 1, 2016: Football Debates: The Redskins

[For each of the last few years, I’ve used Super Bowl week to AmericanStudy some football and/or sports topics. This week, I’ll focus on five football debates I haven’t already covered in those series, leading up to a special post on a few Super Bowl L storylines!]On what’s not complicated, and what is, about name and mascot debates.I grew up a die-hard Washington Redskins fan (that 35-point 2nd Quarter in the 1987 Super Bowl remains one of my favorite sports memories of all time, and not just because we were watching with a family friend who had already started gloating about his Broncos), and my lifelong best friend Steve remains such a fan (Dan Snyder has long since pushed me away). So I’d be the first admit that the defenses of the team’s name aren’t hard to understand: when you’re a fan of a team, particularly the kind of die-hard fan whose identity has been caught up with that team for years and years (if not decades and decades), the thought of changing any fundamental aspect of that team’s identity is a pretty unnerving one. It’s not an exact analogy by any means, but all those fans who swore off the Brooklyn Dodgers when they moved West to Los Angeles were participating in a similar kind of angry reaction to change, and demonstrating the power of fan passion even when (as in the Redskins case) it’s entirely divorced from the rest of reality.Because let’s face it, the overwhelming arguments for changing the team’s name aren’t the slightest bit complicated either. I don’t care how many faux-Native Americans Snyder trots out to support his cause, the simple truth is that the word “Redskins” is a longstanding, historical, undebated racial slur, a derogatory term for a community of fellow Americans. That’d be more than enough to merit a change on its own terms (as many commentators have argued, we would never permit a team to be known as the “Spics” or “Chinks” here in 21st century America), but the team’s history adds another layer of racism into the mix: the founding owner George Preston Marshall was himself an inveterate racist, and almost certainly chose the name as part of that worldview and perspective. However tough it might be for die-hard Redskins fans to get used to a new name, those emotions and responses can’t possibly measure up to how destructive it is (not just for Native Americans, but for all of us) to have a professional sports franchise bear such a hateful name and history.Far more complicated, at least from my admittedly removed vantage point, is the question of all the other franchises that bear less overtly racist or negative Native American names. In the NFL alone we’ve got the Kansas City Chiefs; in baseball we’ve got the Cleveland Indians (and their most definitely overtly racist logo/mascot, which needs to be changed just as quickly as does the Redskins name) and the Atlanta Braves (my other childhood and lifelong favorite team; hmm, I think I’ve got something else to bring to my AmericanStudiesTherapist); in hockey the Chicago Blackhawks; and then there are . I’m not in any way suggesting that changing the Redskins name would have to be a slippery slope to debating all these other names as well—different situations can and should produce different responses, and in any case the possibility of distinct future debates is in no way an argument in a present one. But at the same time, it seems clear to me that our national tendency to name teams after Native Americans reflects, at the very least, our collective narratives of those cultures and communities as a vanished part of our past, rather than a very much alive and vital part of our present and future. So it’s probably long past time we considered what all these names have to tell us, and where we go from there.Next debate tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think?

January 30-31, 2016: January 2016 Recap

[A Recap of the month that was in AmericanStudying.]January 4: DisneyStudying: Spaceship Earth: A series inspired by my first DisneyWorld visit kicks off with what stood out most to me and to my boys on Disney’s most interesting ride.January 5: DisneyStudying: Tom Sawyer Island: The series continues with the history, appeal, and limits of Disney’s most unique space.January 6: DisneyStudying: The Carousel of Progress: An attraction that highlights the best and worst of Disney’s visions of America, as the series rolls on.January 7: DisneyStudying: Splash Mountain: What’s present and absent in a playful water ride and its complex cultural contexts.January 8: DisneyStudying: Small Worlds: The series concludes with three sides to globalization captured in Disney’s parks.January 9-10: Canobie and Theme Park Histories: A special weekend post, tracing three stages in the history of American theme parks through one New Hampshire site.January 11: Spring 2016 Previews: Ethnic American Literature: A Spring semester series kicks off with the four pairs of authors and works we’re reading in my Ethnic Lit course.January 12: Spring 2016 Previews: English Studies Capstone: The series continues with the five books through which my English Capstone course frames its different goals.January 13: Spring 2016 Previews: Major American Authors of the 20th Century: The seven authors and texts I’ve chosen for my lit seminar, as the series rolls on.January 14: Spring 2016 Previews: American Literature I: Pairings of familiar and unfamiliar authors and works in each of my survey’s four time periods.January 15: Spring 2016 Previews: A New ALFA Course and a Request: The series concludes with a request for input in my adult learning course—which has just begun but could still use your input!January 16-17: NeMLA 2016 Preview: A special post on a few of the many things to which I’m looking forward at March’s Northeast MLA convention in Hartford.January 18: The Real King: My annual MLK Day post kicks off a series on Civil Rights leaders.January 19: King’s Colleagues: Yuri Kochiyama: The series continues with the inspiring Civil Rights figure whose life pushed way past binaries and boundaries.January 20: King’s Colleagues: Coretta Scott King: Why and how we should better remember King’s partner in life and activism, as the series rolls on.January 21: King’s Colleagues: Bayard Rustin: The Civil Rights leader who illustrates the possibilities and challenges of intersectionality.January 22: King’s Colleagues: John Lewis: The series concludes with three moments that reflect the presence and role of a living legend.January 23-24: 21st Century Civil Rights: A special weekend addendum on five 21st century Civil Rights issues and debates!January 25: Colonial Williamsburg: Propaganda and Magic: A Williamsburg series kicks off with the political realities and magical effects of a historic site.January 26: Colonial Williamsburg: Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Museum: The series continues with three telling exhibits and items from Williamsburg’s folk art museum.January 27: Colonial Williamsburg: The Story of a Patriot: What’s absent from Williamsburg’s historic film and what it can still offer viewers, as the series rolls on.January 28: Colonial Williamsburg: The Magazine and the Public Gaol: The compelling interpretations and important elisions at my boys’ favorite sites.January 29: Colonial Williamsburg: The Governor’s Palace Maze: The series concludes with the problems and pleasures of Williamsburg’s most fun attraction.Next series starts Monday,BenPS. Topics or themes you’d like to see covered in this space? Guest Posts you’d like to contribute? Lemme know!

January 29, 2016: Colonial Williamsburg: The Governor’s Palace Maze

[As part of our annual Virginia trip last summer, the boys and I—and AmericanStudier madre—visited Colonial Williamsburg for the first time. So this week I’ll AmericanStudy some different histories and elements that are part of that complex and compelling historic site. Add your thoughts, on Williamsburg or other historic sites, in comments!]On the disconnect and the connections fostered in Williamsburg’s most playful space.I visited Colonial Williamsburg at least a few times in the course of my Virginia childhood, and I’m not ashamed—well, maybe slightly ashamed, but I’m working through it with the help of a good AmericanStudiesTherapist and some scholarly perspectives on the importance of childhood play—to admit that what I remember best from those visits is the hedge maze located behind the Governor’s Palace. There was something about wandering among those tall hedges that was both fun and disconcerting, part familiar childish enjoyment and part immersion in a different world than my own, and when I began planning this trip to Colonial Williamsburg with my own kids, I couldn’t wait to introduce them to the maze as well (although our annual fall visit to a local corn maze means that the disconcerting side of a hedge maze wouldn’t be quite as pronounced for them).The maze was one of the first things we did upon arrival, and corn maze notwithstanding the boys did indeed have a blast; but I have to admit that as an adult AmericanStudier I recognized a disconnect in the space I had never noticed before. The Governor’s Palace literally and figuratively towers over the rest of Colonial Williamsburg, a building that is so different from the rest of the town in size, in architectural and artistic grandeur, and in the expanse of its grounds that it purposefully leaves no doubt about the power dynamic between a royal governor and a community of colonial citizens. That dynamic extended, of course, to the families and guests of the governors compared to those of the rest of the town; while the hedge maze is now accessible to any Colonial Williamsburg visitors, that is, it would be more accurate to the site’s history to reserve its use to only those who buy tickets to tour the Governor’s Palace. Childhood play, like every other aspect of life in Colonial Williamsburg (and, frustratingly but unquestionably, 21st century America), differed widely across the town’s and period’s class and social divisions.I didn’t talk about any of that with my boys as they ran through the hedge maze, though. For one thing, how much of a Debbie Downer would I have to be to do that?! Even AmericanStudiers have to just have Dad fun with their kids sometimes, as my AmericanStudiesTherapist is quick to remind me. But for another thing, there’s an important historical side to their enjoyment of the maze (and mine as a kid): it connects them to those young Williamsburgers who ran through the maze three hundred years ago, reminding us of some of the essential childhood connections that endure across historical (as well as social and cultural) differences. Kids aren’t immune to the kinds of broader issues I referenced in the last paragraph, but neither are they entirely defined or limited by them—and indeed, remembering the ways in which kids can exist outside of, and thus perhaps transcend, those historical and social issues is a vital way to argue for things like early childhood education and similar policies and programs in the present. Far from being a shameful escape from history’s realities, then, a run through Colonial Williamburg’s Governor’s Palace Maze links us to an alternative and vital part of our collective pasts and identities.January Recap this weekend,BenPS. What do you think?

January 28, 2016: Colonial Williamsburg: The Magazine and the Public Gaol

[As part of our annual Virginia trip last summer, the boys and I—and AmericanStudier madre—visited Colonial Williamsburg for the first time. So this week I’ll AmericanStudy some different histories and elements that are part of that complex and compelling historic site. Add your thoughts, on Williamsburg or other historic sites, in comments!]On the compelling interpretations, and important absence, at my boys’ two favorite sites.Colonial Williamsburg has a striking number of historic sites and spaces spread out over its 173 acres, most of which feature on-site costumed interpreters (ones not limited, in their conversations with visitors, to the knowledge and perspectives of the historical moment they’re portraying, like those at Plimoth Plantation are, but nonetheless seeking in both their physical appearance and actions and their voices and words to recreate the late 18thcentury). Which sites are open and which feature interpreters varies from day to day and season to season, making the site especially worth return visits to explore different sides of its many streets and sections. On our late August 2015 visit, as you might expect, my then 9 and 8 year old sons were particularly drawn to two such sites and interpretations: the Magazine, which recreates the arsenal at which the controversial and crucial 1775 Gunpowder Incident occurred; and the Public Goal, which portrays the early 18th century prison built shortly after Williamsburg became the colony’s capital in 1699.These two sites, and the interpreters we encountered at each, were especially good at presenting the material culture side to their histories in compelling depth. The interpreter at the Magazine used its collection of historic flintlocks and muskets, swords and pikes, cannons and shot, and other artifacts of war to discuss multiple historical periods: not only the Revolution and its military histories, but also the French & Indian War and even Bacon’s Rebellion, linking each conflict and era to the different weaponry involved in a way that certainly kept my sons’ interest throughout. At the Gaol we listened to two complementary interpreters: a woman outside the building who highlighted the cases of a number of differnet prominent 18thcentury prisoners; and a man inside who guided us through the spaces provided for both the prisonkeeper and his family and those reserved for the building’s less fortunate inhabitants. Both of these Gaol interpreters made sustained and excellent use of the building’s and site’s architecture to help frame for us its identity and roles, its evolution across the 18th century, and how this dark side of Colonial Williamsburg would have been experienced by all the town’s residents.Yet in truth, at neither of these sites did these otherwise compelling interpreters quite engage with the darkest sides to the histories represented therein. More than any other spaces at Colonial Williamsburg, that is, the Magazine and Gaol depended for their existence on definitions of us and them—and indeed, I would argue that in creating and sustaining visions of threatening others (those whom the town would need the Magazine’s weapons in order to defend itself and those outside of the town’s laws and in need of remanding to the Gaol, respectively), these two sites went a long way toward creating a communal identity for the burgeoning Williamsburg populace. I know that a full engagement with such historical and sociological questions would be likely impossible for costumed interpreters to provide in their few minutes of performance; but at the same time, the thoroughgoing focus on material culture at these sites meant that they elided almost entirely these complementary issues of community and identity. While achieving a balance between these different topics is much easier said than done, I’d argue it’s a very worthwhile goal for any 21stcentury historic site.Last Williamsburg post tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think?

January 27, 2016: Colonial Williamsburg: The Story of a Patriot

[As part of our annual Virginia trip last summer, the boys and I—and AmericanStudier madre—visited Colonial Williamsburg for the first time. So this week I’ll AmericanStudy some different histories and elements that are part of that complex and compelling historic site. Add your thoughts, on Williamsburg or other historic sites, in comments!]On what’s unquestionably absent from a historic film, and what it can still offer.One of the most interesting choices made by Colonial Williamsburg can be found in the site’s Visitors Center: its continued use of a more than half-century old introductory film, Williamsburg: The Story of a Patriot (1957). As that hyperlinked opening illustrates, the film stars none other than future Hawaii Five-0 leading man Jack Lord as its protagonist John Fry, a fictional member of the Virginia House of Burgesses who finds himself and his family torn between the Loyalist and Revolutionary forces and causes in the years leading up to the American Revolution. The presence of a very young Lord (more than a decade before Hawaii made him one of the most famous actors in America) is no doubt part of why Williamsburg has continued to use this film (remastered but otherwise unchanged from that late 1950s version) rather than create a more updated, 21st century equivalent (as, for example, Plimoth Plantation has done to great effect).The contrast with the new Plimoth film, “Two Peoples: One Story,” is particularly striking, and doesn’t cast the best light on The Story of a Patriot. Plimoth’s film does full justice to its titular subject, portraying both the arriving English Pilgrims and the Wampanoag community with equal time, sensitivity, and nuance; it neither shies away from detailing the destructive effects of that English arrival on the Wampanoags nor fails to engage (as the film’s subtitle suggests) with the complex, evolving interrelationships between the two cultures. The Story of a Patriot, on the other hand, features African American characters only as the Fry’s faithful slaves; as I remember it, those slave characters have only a line or two in the nearly 30-minute film, and then only to happily assent to whatever is asked of them by the Fry’s. There’s certainly no indication that these African American communities were part of 18thcentury Williamsburg and Virginia in any meaningful way, nor that their presence and voices would themselves become part of the Revolutionary debates in complex and significant ways. I can’t imagine a 21st century Williamsburg film treating slaves and slavery in these reductive and nearly elided ways, and that would be an important change to how the site is framed for visitors.If Story falls short in that not unexpected (for a 1957 text) but still important way, however, in others it took me by pleasant surprise. Most interesting was the film’s willingness and ability to present the Loyalist as well as the Revolutionary perspective—indeed, by making Fry the son of deeply Loyalist parents (and opening with him taking over his Loyalist late father’s House of Burgesses seat), the film rightfully positions that perspective as the mainstream one in the 1770s; and even as events unfold and the Revolution takes hold (and Fry’s own perspectives changes), the film continues to do nuanced justice to the Loyalists, treating them as thoughtful men and women following their own path through that complex moment. Moreover, by focusing on the story of one individual Virginian (a choice that reflects in part a Great Man style of history that would likely not be the center of a 21st century film), Story allows for personalized portrayals of historical figures (and fellow Virginia legislators) like Thomas Jeffersonand Patrick Henry, an element that helped my sons connect to those figures and the era’s histories in meaningful ways. We happened to watch Story at the end of our Williamsburg experience, and I would recommend that order—it helped us appreciate these strengths of the film while better recognizing those elements it does not include.Next Williamsburg post tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think?

January 26, 2016: Colonial Williamsburg: Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Museum

[As part of our annual Virginia trip last summer, the boys and I—and AmericanStudier madre—visited Colonial Williamsburg for the first time. So this week I’ll AmericanStudy some different histories and elements that are part of that complex and compelling historic site. Add your thoughts, on Williamsburg or other historic sites, in comments!]Three telling exhibits and pieces from Williamsburg’s amazing folk art museum.1)      An exhibition of quilts: Through December 6th, the museum’s McCarl Gallery will feature “A Celebration of Quilts,” an exhibition featuring 12 noteworthy American quilts from the 18th through the 20th centuries. The exhibit includes pieces by African American, Hawaiian, and Amish quiltmakers (among other artisans), and likewise runs the gamut of techniques and styles. Serving as both utilitarian household item and artistic products, as both material and artistic culture, quilts are a perfect example of the complexity and value of folk art (compared to the more obvious “fine arts”).2)      Pueblo jewelry: Through September 5th, 2016, the museum’s Peebles Gallery will feature “Thunderbirds: Jewelry of the Santo Domingo Pueblo,” an exhibition that highlights a particular, Depression-era jewelry style from a New Mexico pueblo with a longstanding artistic tradition. Mass-produced (compared to the pueblo’s norms, at least) in response to the Depression’s economic exigencies, and using any and all available materials for the same reason, these jewelry pieces are thus both distinct from the pueblo’s traditions and yet represent a stage and evolution of those histories—and are vital American folk art in any case.3)      Baby in Red Chair: And then there’s that baby, one of the perennial representations of the museum’s collections and spirit. Currently exhibited as part of an American folk portraits collection in the Clark Foundation Gallery, the baby embodies the practice and appeal of folk art—simple yet eloquent, anonymous yet enduring, everyday yet reflecting our reality in the way that only the arts can. There’s a reason why the baby has been one of the museum’s most popular pieces, and it’s the same reason why the museum has been so successful—because folk art is a vibrant and vital part of our national community and identity.Next Williamsburg post tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think?