War is not Civil for tan-faced prairie boys and other living things*

I read on a news sidebar that today marks the 150th anniversary of the first shots of the Civil War. When I notice how my life is speeding through its course, decade gobbled by decade, 150 years just does not seem like that long ago to me. I wish I knew at 25 that I would feel this way now, that I would know that Time does this but for some reason Time does not share itself with the very young.

I found on msnbc.com a marvelous photo blog article about the Liljenquist family who, in just over 15 years of collecting Civil War photographs, has "amassed over 700 images, the majority now on display at the National Archive." There is a link at the article for more information about the collection.

I looked at the remarkable images and this one, of a Confederate soldier, stopped my scrolling. I have stared at this face long and long tonight, wondering if he felt his side was right right up to the end, wondering how his life came to an end. Did he die on some battlefield, his light gray Confederate eyes meeting the sky blue eyes of a Union foe before the end? Was there a moment when they each were aware of a soul supporting the gaze? Which soul did they sense in that moment, their own or the other? Did they suddenly realize there is no "other"?

O Tan-Faced Prairie-Boy by Walt Whitman
                                    (from The Civil War poems)


            O TAN-FACED prairie-boy,
            Before you came to camp came many a welcome gift,
            Praises and presents came and nourishing food, till at last among
               the recruits,
            You came, taciturn, with nothing to give-we but look'd on each
               other,
            When lo! more than all the gifts of the world you gave me.





*Of interest: The true story behind the Vietnam War protest poster, War is not Healthy for Children and Other Living Things.


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