As you are probably aware, I am not shy about sharing my opinions about things- realizing that opinions are like sphincters and everyone has at least one of them. I rose at the farm today, a bit late, since I was beat from cutting the pastures and lawn and trimming the brush back from the satellite dish.
There seems to be no imperative to set the alarm down here, and the sultry weather has caused me to crank up the air conditioning and the bed is exceptionally welcoming.
I will have to get back up north and check the mail. All my friends are reporting the receipt of nice letters from the good folks at the Department of Homeland Security. They appear to be right on the ball. One colleague reported that he had called them to verify that the letter was real, since we are now through the looking glass and cannot trust anything or anyone.
Actually, that was true before we found out about the hacking, but I digress. My pal said: “ The individual with whom I spoke, after waiting ten minutes on hold, confirmed that DHS did in fact send the letter, which contained this explanation: “A private contractor used by DHS to conduct pre-employment credit checks, may have been compromised.”
That is an interesting take on something that in my day would have been what we called an “inherently governmental function.” Apparently the letter goes on to offer credit monitoring and identity theft insurance. According to the woman with whom my pal spoke, “this breach may affect anyone with an active or past security clearance. Just my two cents, but I think the source of the hack should be identified immediately and shortly after identification become a radioactive, smoking hole, no questions asked.”
I completely agree, and enjoyed the use of the term “two cents,” which resonated powerfully. When I was at that marvelous dinner at The Inn at Little Washington on Saturday night, I was presented with a gift from the Webb family that humbled and pleased me. As the activity in the bustling kitchen went on around us, I opened the little black case and whistled in amazement. It was a pair of cufflinks crafted from brilliantly polished two-cent coins.
Tom told me about their provenance: “ The two-cent piece was only minted between 1864 and 1872. The economic turmoil of the Civil War caused people to hoard silver coins and there was a crisis in the commercial sector. The cent at that time was struck of a copper-nickel alloy, the same diameter as the later Lincoln penny, but a little thicker and harder for the Philadelphia mint to produce.”
I was a little embarrassed by the generosity of the gift, but frankly the cufflinks are perfect for the formal events I attend with the French Cuffs, and the theme of them is perfectly in synch with where I have been spending a lot of my time lately, in the relative safety of the 19th century.
Tom explained: “what jumped out at us was the date the coins had been minted- 1864. We thought it would be perfect for you.”
I nodded in agreement and peered closely at the coins, marveling at what they had purchased in their day- cigars? Candy? Whose pockets had they been in? Could my ancestors have fished them out of heavy woolen uniform trousers and slid them across the bar for a shot of whiskey or a refreshing mug of beer?
As discerning readers have noticed, 1864 was the year that fate decided to let Great Great Grandfather live through the Battle of Brice’s Crossing, and probably the year that he decided to go AWOL from the Union, marry Great Great Grandmother Barbara, and sire the line that gave life to me.
That is the love story I am going to weave into the Civil War epic- but I am getting on thin ice. I need to nail down some dates to confirm what and where the family actually was in 1864. I was going to continue the story of the 72nd OVI from there, but decided on another approach.
Doc wrote from his home on the mountain in Arizona to ask if there was a means to get a copy of the military records of his great grandfather, who had been a destroyer sailor in The Great War. In the process of crafting my response, I went to the National Archive site (http://www.archives.gov/) to confirm the details of the process.
So long as I was there anyway, I ordered a copy of both James Foley and Patrick Griffin’s records. I did not have to provide any legal reason for the request, so in a way it is just like the Chinese hackers who got all of us.
Of course, James and Patrick are not in a position to do anything about it, but then, apparently neither are we.
I have to agree with my pal’s recommendation: smoking radioactive hole. Soon. Just my two cents, you know?
Copyright 2015 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303