Reflection on the Research

I’d like to take a minute to reflect personally on the mountain of research I have compiled and posted over the last few weeks.  Before beginning work on this project I never imagined I’d ever take an interest in the particulars of the Civil War.  While I’ve always liked history, I have never enjoyed focusing on the battles fought and blood spilled.  But as I uncovered information layer by layer, person by person, something happened to me, and now, as we begin to tie it all together, I find myself thirsty for new information about a subject that has become near and dear to my heart.

The first spark of love for this subject began by reading Bethlehem Boy.  It was an opportunity to follow one man’s journey.  James Peifer grew up mere blocks away from the house I currently live in, and not only did he write letters with an almost religious fervor, he wrote them with love, hope and intellect.  Each one paints a picture; not only is it a firsthand account of battle, but it is also an artful look at the words that kept their author alive.

I went from reading Peifer’s letters to wading through the massive binder of research collected by my predecessor and friend, Mariel Iezonni.  While all the information helped fill out my understanding of the war, it was always the letters that captivated me most deeply.  And thus began a hunt for more letters.

Combing through the smallest print I’ve ever seen to find the hidden jewels that lay printed in the Moravian newspaper was painstaking and totally with it.  The biggest joy was linking the letters printed in the paper to the other events highlighted on the same day.  It was at this point that the city of Bethlehem itself became tangible and real.  From lists of what was sold at market to write ups on the musical entertainments of the day, I drew color from the black and white text.  One day I even found a short article about Rag Parties and how girls would get together to make rugs out of old rags, complete with prizes for the most impressive creations.  I have rugs in my home that were made during this time period by my great great grandmother, and that little article delighted me because of the direct connection to my personal history.

In the end though, all this research has lead me to more questions than answers.  Peifer’s writing always made me wonder, “If this is what he’s writing home about, what also happened that was too difficult to share with his sister?”  Peifer’s letters are so interesting, but they made me wish for the letters his sister wrote back in return.  What did she have to say?  Every time I finished another day’s worth of local news I was always left wondering what some of the more ambiguous texts were hinting at.  What was not fit to print? What was the whole story?

I may never know the whole story, I may always crave more information, but I am closer than I could have ever imagined to the history that lay quite literally under my feet.  Now, when I walk through Nisky Hill, not only can I appreciate the beauty of my surroundings, but I can walk past the great men who fought for our country and say, “I know you and I thank you.”