Jane magnolias in glorious bloom on the FTCC campus (March 13)
Almost three months have passed since I last posted here–by far the longest dry spell since I started writing in 2016. Not accidentally, this hiatus coincides with my newly rediscovered passion for fitness. Last May, my family doctor told me that at 6.6%, my hemoglobin A1c level had crossed the threshold for diabetes–but that I could reverse the diagnosis through diet and exercise. She sent me to a nutritionist, whose dietary advice I have followed meticulously for over 9 months, and by November, my labs were mostly on the normal range. In January, the Apple Watch inspired me to start walking. I also joined the YMCA and signed up for an aerobics class at school (instructors can take one free class each semester). To date, I have lost 136 pounds, built some heretofore untried muscles, and begun slowly building a new wardrobe. Continue reading
As I began to ponder the year soon coming to a close, it seemed necessary and fitting that I end the longest hiatus of my blog-writing career with a brief narration of the project–now complete–that has consumed my life for the last four years. During that time, I have focused much of my attention on the effort to commemorate, both personally and professionally, the centenary of World War I. Not coincidentally, I last posted here on November 11, one hundred years after the Armistice ending the ghastly war that gave us the map, the context, and even the vocabulary by which we still understand the ensuing century. As that project came to its logical conclusion during those frenzied days of early November, I realized that I could take the time to breathe, to collect my energies, and to move onto as-yet undetermined paths. So today, I am taking the opportunity to review this project as it came to fruition in 2018–focusing primarily on the last few events that provided me with a sense of fulfillment like no other. 
From July to November 1917, Wilfred Edward Salter Owen was a shell-shocked second lieutenant in the Manchester Regiment, under the care of W. H. R. Rivers at Craiglockhart War Hospital. There, he became close friends with Siegfried Sassoon, who became his poetic mentor and helped him revise the following poem, one of his most memorable: 
Despite the apparent obscurity of this World War I-era postcard, the charm of its rough sketch of doughboys at the front and the accompanying doggerel prompted me to buy it from eBay along with others more charming still–and of much more historical interest. However, I was even more enchanted by the cryptic message on the reverse: 
