You might wonder why a woman whose entire career has been focused primarily on one thing, marketing and branding, would write about a Civil War Union officer from Maine.  But having just read the powerful historic novel “The Killer Angels” by Michael Shaara awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1975, I am moved to share some thoughts.

This book is a brutal, jagged, tearing look at the most brutal conflict any Americans ever fought in; the Battle of Gettysburg. Of course, we all now know that it was the first war to be widely photographed on the battlefield and that after those photos started circulating, the once charming pastime of of well dressed and well bred spectators going out to casually view the battles subsided rapidly.  The idea of war as entertainment had turned under the stark illumination of the photograph.

And in the middle of the bloodiest of all engagements this scholarly gentlman, a professor from Bowdoin College, led his troops through a stunning feat of survival.  No professional soldier, Chamberlain found himself the most unlikely of all leaders, no one more suprised than he. At one point he had the daunting challenge of trying to convince over 100 Maine men the army had declared to be prisoners for attempting to dessert, to be pressed into service at Gettysburg.  These men all believed their enlistment was up and wanted nothing more to do with fighting far from home for an army that would not allow them to return to their beloved Maine.

But a plain speaking Joshua Chamberlain did in fact, inspire all but six of those men to stay and fight for the Union.  He didn’t force anyone, or threaten, or connive, though these souls had been told earlier that if they didn’t fight they’d be shot!  He stated simply that their lot was a sorry one, pledged to do all he could to take up their cause when the time was right, and enrolled them in the wisdom of supporting Army of the Potomac in the immenent conflagration.  It wasn’t force or trickery or certain reward that saved the day.  It was a man speaking authentically about choices.  Many of the men who consented died in the next few days at Gettysburg, but many survived, in no small measure, due to the gallant good words of Joshua Chamberlain.

You’d be hard pressed to find people today that would willingly follow a college professor into battle based on a future promise to attempt to right a wrong.  People aren’t as trusting, or noble, or black and white.  Everything is somehow greyer now. Words rarely have the power to move and inspire as his did that day, though there are more words being spoken and written than ever before.  But is anyone listening? Truly listening? I have long championed frank speech, authenticity, and a lack of “selling people” in order to get a desired result.

Chamberlain was a marketer in many ways, the very best kind.  He made a case for why those downtrodden angry men who felt forgotten and betrayed, could cast their lot with him.  He didn’t speak down to the troops, he didn’t pander or over promise.  He simply said what needed to be said, and in so doing, gained the respect and trust of nearly every man in the regiment. There were inspiring leaders on both sides of the war to be sure, but Chamberlain’s certain grasp on effective communications was noteworthy for all that it wasn’t as much as for what it was.

Living in New England brings changes in seasons with predictable regularity.  But our lives have seasons as well and they are rarely predictable.  There are the obvious changes like adolescence, puberty, becoming a spouse or parent.  But there are far more of the less perceptable seasons, and they flow with far more regularity than do the life altering passages.

I have been in just such a period.  We define ourselves so often by the more obvious notes; our careers, our relationships, where we live, our roles if you will. But who are we when those get garbled?  Who are we when all of the most familiar of landmarks aren’t clearly in view?

It’s been eye-opening to stand in the face of these questions, to look with my “third eye” so to speak.  We are social creatures after all, some of us more than others.  And these roles and stages are where we act out our own plays.  Its easy to feel successful and valued when you are producing results or getting great feedback.  It’s not so easy when you have to look inward for the validation.  But in times up great personal upheaval that’s the only place you can go, inside.

It is a test of character that comes repeatedly in our lives yet each visit is a first. There is no magic pill, no mantra that accelerates that journey.  It’s never comfortable getting “there” but I believe that all real growth in our lives only comes in moments of true discomfort. And perhaps most ironic is that the “there” we seek involves embracing there “here where we are” in order to complete the lesson and end the scene……

This is my absolute favorite time of year.  The leaves fill in throughout our yard returning the privacy and serenity I cherrish there, the birds are melodic and reacquanting themselves with our pond and feeders, and something new seems to be bursting open on a daily basis.

Lilacs are coming soon, for me that’s better than Christmas and birthdays combined, followed by the Lillies of the Valley and then the Peonies.  It’s been a particularly long late winter and early spring for me, one I’m thrilled to be out of. And if I ever needed to appreciate all that this time of year holds in store, it’s now.

There is something so reassuring about the change of the seasons, particularly here in New England.  There is an energy and sense of opportunity each spring.  It’s not a condition we really discuss and yet we know it’s coming. We rely on it to somehow get us through this part of the year before we steel ourselves for the inevitable grey quiet that will come later with winter. It is an awakening after what feels like dreary dullness in winter, even in as mild a one as we just had. The smells and sounds that come with spring are a treat for the senses. The frogs screeching at night, the birds competing all morning, the dogs and kids scurrying about each with their own unique songs, the smell of fresh cut lawns, burgers on grills, gasoline in mowers being newly fired up.

I’ve lived in many parts of the country and every winter I listen to all the nay-sayers who poo-poo winter here.  But I will always be willing to put up with that annoying season just to have the magnificence of the other three, and most especially spring’s renewal.