Three degrees from Lincoln

When I started this blog, it was to honor the life and the legacy of Abraham Lincoln in celebration of the bicentennial of his birth. That mission hasn’t changed. You may wonder, therefore, why I would use Lincoln Buff 2 as a forum to tell you about a novel that has nothing to do with the 16th president.

Bear with me while I explain. Then, after I do, if you understand, please read about this marvelous book – and the author who so handily crafted the story.

The way I see it, we can make a connection between this novel and Lincoln. They’re just three degrees apart:

• One degree from Abraham Lincoln is his biographer, Carl Sandburg
• Two degrees away is Carl Sandburg biographer, Penelope Niven
• Three degrees away is Jennifer Niven, Penelope’s daughter and author of Velva Jean Learns to Drive

I’d like to use this interconnectedness to justify this blog post, but first let me tell you why.

Penny’s talk
Two decades ago, I was the front-end manager of a supermarket in Galesburg (Ill.). I’d left college midstream nearly twenty years earlier to get married and raise a family. One evening, sometime around 1990 or so, Penelope Niven was speaking at Carl Sandburg College on the most obvious of subjects, her upcoming Sandburg biography.

If you ever get a chance to meet Penny Niven, you’ll find her, as I did, to be one of the most charming and upbeat people you’ve ever met. You will find it hard to leave the encounter without catching the enthusiasm she radiates.

As I was at a turning point in my life, longing to return to school and share what I learned, either as a teacher or a writer, a number of things about Penny’s speech struck a chord with me that night. The strongest, though, were two comments that originated with Jennifer.

The first was the answer a pre-teen Jennifer gave when asked to share with her class her parents’ occupations. Jennifer’s response went something like this, “My father is a teacher and my mother is obsessed with a dead guy.”

The second happened a few years later. As Penny was lamenting the time it was taking to do her 800-word biography, the writer quipped, “I’ll be fifty before I get this book done!”

Her wise daughter responded, “Mother, you’ll be fifty anyway.”

So why does this matter? Well, maybe because after that talk, I finished college, turned fifty, and am now obsessed with the dead guy with whom Penny’s dead guy was obsessed. Jennifer’s words and her mother’s wisdom in passing them on have motivated me to pursue my dreams. But, I’ll likely be 60 before I get my book done!

The least I can do for Jennifer, though, is tell you about her book. It’s certainly not hard to say good things about Velva Jean.

Jennifer learns to read – and write
Jennifer Niven is a striking young lady – very photogenic. Yet, in spite of all the photos I’ve seen of her, one of my favorites is of her as a little girl with her nose between the pages of a great big book.

I imagine it taken was about the same time Jennifer crafted her own first book. Twelve years ago, I was there when she shared the volume with a Hendersonville, N.C. audience as she and her mother spoke about their careers. The young author’s early effort didn’t look much different than those many of our children designed in their early school days, but my bet is that Jennifer knew who she was as soon as she created it. She was a writer.

I first encountered Jennifer’s work in her non-fiction books about Arctic exhibitions, The Ice Master and Ada Blackjack. Jennifer’s research and storytelling skills are phenomenal. She brought those long gone explorers to life. Both books held me spellbound as I waited on pins and needles to see how things turned out.

Velva Jean is born again
Yet, even before these books, young Jennifer had reached a pinnacle few writers ever do. She was awarded an Emmy for her screenplay of a film titled Velva Jean Learns to Drive, which she wrote in 1995 while still a student at the American Film Institute.

Velva Jean was born on the pages of a short story Penny wrote, resurrected on screen by Jennifer and is born again between the covers of this new book.

What a glorious rebirth it is! Not only is the story reborn but, in the book, the character is reborn through a religious conversion.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. If I were to describe the book in one sentence, I’d say this: Velva Jean Learns to Drive is a coming-of-age story about a girl in the 1930s and 40s from the Appalachian hills who dreams of becoming a singer in Nashville.

It’s that and much, much more.

The characters in Jennifer’s book really are so believable you think you’ve known them all your life. They’re people you can love, hate and feel real pity for. She draws you into the story so well that you truly can sense a panther on your heels, feel the exhilaration of a wild ride down the mountain in a bright yellow pickup truck, smell the putrid fumes of a train wreck.

Not your mama’s mountain tale
Some might argue that certain aspects of this book could be stereotypical – a mountain family with an ailing mom, a wandering dad, a big sis who married young and had a brood of kids, a traveling preacher man, a family-owned store and people who’ve never left their small town.

Yet, that’s what makes this book worth reading and significant historically. The scenes Jennifer paints really are the past as it was in the rural south – and not so different from the rest of the country at the same time. We can read her book and climb back into the limbs of our own family trees. In fact, some of the stories spring from the branches of her own.

From that angle, we can see much more. In her characters, we see ourselves and those around us. Families in her book are dysfunctional. Whose aren’t? People in her book have hopes and dreams for themselves or others. They love intensely and hate immensely. They propel each other and hold each other back. They want the best for their community and they want to fight progress. Some have all they’ll ever need or want, while others spend each day dreaming dreams they fear will never come true.

The appeal of Velva Jean is not that Jennifer Niven has blazed a new trail through those mountains of old. It’s that she’s taken the personalities we all know, the experiences we’ve all lived and she’s brought them to life anew. In Velva Jean Learns to Drive, we all see a little of ourselves and our pasts. As Jennifer tells Velva Jean’s tale, our stories, too, are born again.

She’s not done yet
There are few authors who grab me and hole me spellbound, so strongly that I can’t wait for their next book. Penny does, Richard Bach does (I want to soar like Jonathan. What’s wrong with that?) and Jennifer does.

Fortunately, I don’t have to wait long for her next one. The Aqua-Net Diaries, Big Hair, Big Dreams, Small Town, the memoir of her high school days in Richmond (Ind.) is due out soon. The title alone should give you a hint why she could write about Velva Jean so well. Now, Jennifer’s hard at work on her fifth volume.

Who knows? At this rate, Jennifer might just catch up with my friend, Lincoln scholar Harold Holzer, who’s pounding out his 34th book, And, I’m sure I’ll love every one of her books as much as I do his.

Another Lincoln link
Oh, and that whole Lincoln connection thing? There are two more. Velva Jean’s dad and brother shared the same first name – Lincoln. So, if you decide to do as I did and drop all things Lincoln to read this book, it’s okay. Really, it is.

© Copyright 2009 Ann Tracy Mueller. All rights reserved.

Tribute to a faithful toiler

“I have always felt that a woman has the right to treat the subject of her age with ambiguity until, perhaps, she passes into the realm of over ninety. Then it is better she be candid with herself and with the world.” Carl Sandburg

On Nov. 24, 1918 as Americans fought in the War to End All Wars, the not-yet-Lincoln-biographer Carl Sandburg was away from home as a war correspondent. That Sunday at 6 a.m., his wife, Lillian, whom he called Paula, gave birth to a baby girl, rather than the boy the couple had expected. When Paula wrote to her husband, she described a little girl “as colorful and clamorous as you could wish,” according to the account in Penelope Niven’s Carl Sandburg: A Biography.

That colorful, clamorous daughter, Helga, a brilliant writer herself, will celebrate her ninetieth birthday tomorrow and she has earned the right to be as ambiguous or as candid about her age as she wishes.

So why am I writing about Helga Sandburg in my Lincoln blog? I could give you a top ten, with reasons such as “I admire her.” “She inspires me.” “She’s spunky.” Those would all be right, and I’d have no trouble finding many more. The most significant, however, is that I think Lincoln buffs and Lincoln scholars alike can learn from Helga.

What Helga can teach us

“Learn what?” you ask. There are several things.

One of my friends who is a Lincoln scholar is a PK – Preacher’s Kid. There are certain things all preachers’ kids have in common – a bond of sorts, things they’ve lived through. I wonder, as I meet Lincoln scholars and read their work, if there isn’t also a bond for LK – Lincoln Kids – sons and daughters of Lincoln scholars. The bond is in things such as listening to Mom or Dad talk about Lincoln for hours with more passion in their eyes than at almost any other time – or watching as the piles of books and papers grow deeper and deeper in the library – or wondering when the parent will ever pull away from the computer – or having to plan vacations around visits to Lincoln sites, libraries or archives.

In “…Where Love Begins,” Helga’s autobiographical account of the Sandburg family, Lincoln scholars and their families can see how, even more than eighty years after his first Lincoln volume was published, there are still some constants in what it’s like to be a Lincoln scholar or an LK.

This book, one of more than a dozen by this soon-to-be nonagenarian, keeps readers engaged anyway, because Helga’s a fun writer and it’s a great read. But for those of us with an interest in Lincoln, she paints a familiar picture of both the beginning and the end of the creative process. "I am four. A flame has lighted my father. The household feels it,” Helga wrote. The time was the summer of 1923 and the flame, of course, was Lincoln.

She also shares her Uncle Edward Steichen’s account of Carl’s visit after the final review of proofs of Abraham Lincoln: The War Years. Her uncle, the gifted photographer, saw the Lincoln biographer as if through a camera lens, and captured a peace writers have only as one project ends and another is not yet begun:

“My uncle says, ‘Carl sat at the breakfast table that morning with a serene and relaxed look, a look that brought to mind Gardner’s beautiful photographs the day after the Civil war surrender. This is the only picture of Lincoln in existence which shows a real smile, a tired smile of relief, a smile of infinite warmth and tenderness.’”

Read all about it

Have you wondered what it was like for Sandburg to be obsessed with Lincoln for so long, or what it was like to live in the presence of one so obsessed? Do you wonder how Sandburg’s creative and research process was different from your own – or the same? Did you know Helga and her sisters were often “faithful toilers” working in many ways behind the scenes to contribute to his life’s work?

If so, you must read Helga’s book. And, if you’re so inclined, it might be a really nice time to stop and say, “Thanks, Helga. Have a great birthday!” I’ll be glad to send her any birthday wishes you leave in the comments at the end of this blog.

Happy birthday, Helga!

Helga, thanks for writing about your father, telling your own stories and, especially, for your own voice, formed in the echoes of the prairie-town boy and the rhythms of the trains near his boyhood home. You're the youngest 90-year-old I've ever known. Have a wonderful day.

Film plans to capture why Sandburg still matters

As I began my studies this morning, I intended to blog on Penelope (Penny) Niven’s Carl Sandburg: A Biography. You’ll hear the reason I was heading down that path another day. You will also have to wait to hear about Penny’s Carl and why the book is of value in the study of Lincoln.

You see, as I was surfing the Internet searching for a particularly moving quote Penny had once shared, I tripped over the most amazing blog. I just have to share it with you.

I learned today that an Asheville, North Carolina filmmaker, Paul Bonesteel, who as a child took a poety class on the lawn at Sandburg’s home, Connemara, is committed to doing a documentary about Sandburg. He talks about this painfully long, yet extremely rewarding project in his blog, The Day Carl Sandburg Died.

Sandburg matters – does his Lincoln?
Bonesteel has been at work on this project for a number of years, doing interviews, gathering funding, pulling things together in a meaningful way. As his project moved forward, his focus changed somewhat and his current working title was born. It became alarming to him as he began digging into the Sandburg legacy to learn that Sandburg’s voice in American culture seemed to be dying off. Some of Sandburg’s poems are even losing their places in our schools and in the anthologies our students use.

The mission then became more to delve into why Sandburg does matter. And the time was right when Bonesteel began his project. He captured visits with some pretty impressive people – Studs Terkel, Norman Corwin, Pete Seeger – which makes this even more significant. Timing was crucial. A few years later and he couldn’t have done this project with the breadth and depth with which he could now. Terkel died last month at age 96, Corwin is 98 and Seeger is 89. Two of Sandburg’s three daughters are no longer living. The people who can really tell us about Sandburg are slowly leaving to join him in that place where creative types go to continue the work they started here.

I understand many Lincoln scholars have problems with Sandburg and his work. Today’s post isn’t a place to debate that. Some other time we’ll talk about whether Sandburg’s Lincoln still matters. I think there are reasons it does, and I’ll show you my perspective on that in a future blog post.

For now, if you’re interested in Bonesteel’s work, please visit his blog. Ill try to follow up on its release and let you know when it’s released on TV.

I’m sure glad I stubbed my toe on Bonesteel today, I can’t wait to see his film and I hope you enjoyed reading about it. Watch for more on Penny, Helga and Carl in future blogs.