Some time in November or December of 2019, I happened upon an advertisement for the “9th Conference on the American Revolution” to be held in Williamsburg, VA. The agenda included a Friday night cocktail reception and opening lecture, followed by an all-day session of lectures Saturday and a half-day on Sunday. Each of the lectures was given by an historian of the period, most of whom had published books on the subject (which were available for purchase). I remember reading the line-up and thinking how interesting the event seemed, and as a certified fan-boi of all things colonial, revolutionary, and Constitutional, I registered. Then came the plague, and the conference was canceled like much of American life in March of 2020.
The conference organizers kept in touch, and decided to go ahead with a conference over the weekend (18-20 March). With Williamsburg only a 3.5 hour drive away and life beginning to return to normal, I signed up to attend. When I told Catherine about it, she reminded me that we have two wonderful friends who live in Williamsburg, and that we should avail ourselves of oft-tendered invitations to visit. Given that they like Catherine considerably more than they do me, the fact that I would be attending the conference was seen by no one as an impediment to the visit. Alison and David, who attended UVA when I did (though because they were far more studious than to have run across me drunkenly stumbling down Rugby Road, we were not acquainted), are perhaps the two most accomplished hosts of my generation. They know food and wine, they are wonderfully gregarious, and they are accomplished interlocutors. And they are just damn good folks.
Now, another of our friends (in common with Alison and David)—Chris—was visiting last week, and when the subject of our weekend visit arose, Chris was fascinated that I would choose to spend my time listening to lectures on the Battle of Trenton, the subject of plunder in the Revolutionary War, and the conspiracy/cabal to undercut George Washington (all honor his name), and he took to a text chat to mock me for my choices. There was some good-natured to and fro-ing (which continued into the weekend), but it simply never occurred to me that there were people in my orbit who were so intellectually incurious as to consider a day and half of history lectures anything but sublime. NOTE TO READERS NOT USED TO MY HUMOR OR UNAPPRECIATIVE OF IT—THE PREVIOUS SENTENCE IS TO BE READ AS AN ATTEMPT AT HUMOR AND NOT AN ACTUAL INSULT.
Arriving late in the afternoon Friday, the four of us nipped into Colonial Williamsburg to get me fed, as I rarely trust the nourishment of cocktail receptions to do the trick. The three of them drank beers while I ate, as apparently they were going to move on to a proper restaurant to eat proper food at a proper hour in my absence. I took the car and drove over to the conference center leaving them to walk the half mile or so back home. I arrived at the conference venue in time for the end of the cocktail party just prior to a cracking-good evening lecture “General George Washington: Echoes of the Seven Years’ War in the Revolutionary War” presented by Citadel history professor David Preston. A word about the conference center/hotel? Don’t mind if I do.
One of my favorite works of fiction is “Lolita”. Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m a dirty old man. But putting that aside, Nabokov’s book is one of the most amazing works of “Americana” I’ve ever seen. Once he and “sweet little Lo” head out on the lamb, stopping at little inns in the woods along state highways, Nabokov paints a picture of 1950’s America that is vivid and—I imagine—quite real. As I drove up to the conference, all I could think of was Nabokov describing one of the places he and his captive stayed.
Upon return to my lodgings, there was some snickering about my taste in leisure activities and how age appropriate they may be, but I could tell everyone was just burning with jealousy at not having been there, and that jealousy did not abate at the end of the day Saturday when I described the fascinating subjects treated that day. Now I have to admit, the crowd was not young. I’d say the average age was pushing 70. There were a few canes, walkers, and an oxygen bottle. Many of the attendees were repeats from previous conferences, and some of the speakers have appeared in the past also. The older I get, the more introverted I become, and so I really only interacted with the gentleman next to me, who turned out to be a speaker and the guy who lectured on plunder.
It was hard not to suspect that most of the people there knew each other, either from attending conferences like this or because many of the retirees there were retired academics. There was no shortage of inside jokes shared among the speakers/organizers, with the life and reputation of one Colonel John Brown having been grist for a good deal of repartee. Apparently, Brown was the first American officer to sus out Benedict Arnold for perfidy, though not for his ultimate treason. The fellow below apparently considered Arnold to be misunderstood.
The bottom line folks, is that the conference was the bomb. Great subject matter, engaging speakers, and no tests. What more could a guy ask for?
Now let’s talk a little about Williamsburg, shall we? Have you been? If you haven’t, plan to. Williamsburg is a delight, a modern attempt to recapture the look and feel of what a colonial capital might be like, minus the mud and the stifling smell of animal droppings and poor human hygiene. I went for a run on Sunday morning before most of the central area had awakened, and it was not hard to imagine the bustle of the place two hundred fifty years ago. Yes, that’s right. I just dropped a 250 on you, because ladies and gentlemen, we are just a few years away from the 250th Anniversary of the start of the Revolutionary War. I hope that our governmental overlords are busy readying some puffed-up commission charged with the commemoration of this great time in human history. In all seriousness, the war that led to the founding of this great country is itself, a wondrous thing, and I hope we Americans take time between 2025 and 2031 to commemorate and celebrate it.
UVA Basketball
I know. I promised that the last mention of UVA Basketball would be the last mention of the season. But I lied.
UVA is still alive in the NIT Tournament (a.k.a “the loser’s bracket”) and after a hard fought win in Denton, Texas on Sunday, they will return to the friendly confines of Charlottesville for Tuesday night’s game with St. Bonaventure. Lower level seats were available for $14 each, and so I snapped up three for myself and a couple of fraternity brothers.
I can’t quit them.