In late summer of 2017 I was in need of a vacation. A solo trip.
I decided upon Galena, Illinois, a town Ulysses S. Grant resided in as an adult just before the War Between the States. Earlier that summer, I’d googled “small historical towns” and found Galena on one of those “top 677 small towns” lists (that number might be exaggerated just a bit). Settling on the small, former lead-mining town around three hours west of Chicago had less to do with U.S. Grant’s home and more to do with it being only a six hour drive from where I live.
I found an AirBnb which turned out to be a Bed and Breakfast two minutes outside of the small town. Being the person that I am, instead of going home from work (I worked 2nd shift and got out at 10 pm) and sleeping, then getting up and making the drive, I instead went home, packed, and left around 11:00 pm. Meaning that I arrived very early the next morning, still hours before I could check in to my room.
The early arrival turned out to be one of my favorite parts of the trip. I parked my car in town, one that was mostly still asleep, then walked to a nearby park looking down on the Galena River (it’s not much of a river, but apparently used to be much bigger). Then I sat on a bench and read. As the sun rose, so too did the sounds of a waking, small town. It was a cool introduction.
After leaving the park, I ate a breakfast joint, then took a nap in my car. Even after waking from the nap, I still had a few hours before check-in time. I probably could’ve checked in early, but I instead used the time by checking out more of the town, though I remained in a groggy state.
When I was finally able to check in, I found my room to be an antique-ish-looking space. I also found the bed to be comfortable as I fell asleep almost immediately after lying on it. Upon waking from that day’s second, though much better than the first nap, I checked my phone, first to see what time it was, then to see what was going on in the world.
Do you also find it weird how news is taken in differently when not in your normal environment?
And boy was there news. Remember how I said this was late-summer 2017? Do you remember what was going in Charlottesville, Virginia in August of 2017? My trip coincided with the Charlottesville protests of that year. And even though I was supposed to be on vacation, I found myself in a bit of doom-scroll on Twitter trying to gather all the incoming information I could. It was difficult to look away.
A car had been driven into a crowd. Someone was dead. Antifa losers had shown up in their stupid looking garb. The media was obviously in an uproar because, “This is the worst day in history,” but also excited because, “All blame can be placed on Trump.”
Of course later on Trump would make the “Good people on both sides” comment, which was supposed to bring him total damnation. I remember hearing the full clip then and thinking, “That’s nothing.” And it still is.
At the time of the Charlottesville event, I was not much of a Trump fan. I was beginning to grow more sympathetic toward him, however, because I’d felt his first year in office, till that point, had been a relatively successful one. And when looking into the motivations behind the events in Charlottesville, I found myself sympathetic to parts of the cause, though my position then and now is that protests are stupid.
I’m against Confederate Statues being torn down. And I’m especially against it when it’s occurring in Southern States. I think of the War Between the States, though extremely tragic, as the greatest and most consequential event in American History. An American Iliad. We should erect more statues of both Union and Confederate soldiers, and none should be torn down.
It was not lost on me that I was vacationing in U.S. Grant’s adult hometown while harboring antipathy towards those who wanted to tear down and dishonor the men Grant fought against. Perhaps that doesn’t make sense to the generic observer of history, as if it were some sort of unforgiveable contradiction. But to me, both Grant and the Confederates he fought against are true Americans. The people wanting to dishonor Robert E. Lee and his men are not.
I eventually ended my doom scroll and proceeded to do vacation things, including visit Grant’s old home.
I returned to Galena in October of 2020, a return trip motivated largely by nostalgia. It was a mistake.
I don’t have to tell you that the world was much more different in 2020 than what it was in 2017. This trip being in autumn, during peak color season, was its only redeeming quality.
I stayed in the same AirBnb that I did three years prior. I was shown to my room by the same lady who had helped me before, but her friendliness from that first trip had been overtaken by fear. She repeatedly told me to stay 6 feet away from her and twice told me to adjust my mask. I almost said, “Screw it,” and walked away; why open your doors if you’re going to be so fearful?
Then when I went into town, I saw sidewalks littered with signs saying that masks had to be worn outside as well as inside, and I seemed to be the only one ignoring them. It was a depressing scene. People outside in their masks, vacationing in dystopic fashion. It was gross. I hated it.
I missed the days of doom-scrolling Charlottesville news on my phone. At least the AntiFa losers wearing masks during that event had somewhat of a reason in doing so. Though if 2020 taught us anything, those losers can bear full face while teaming up with BLM rioters and completely destroy a city while not receiving one consequence for the act; in fact, they’ll be lauded.
The ugly spirt I felt in Galena in 2020 was a continuation of tear-down culture. It is the destruction of human vitality and, consequently, the human soul. Bad acts are lauded as good, and heroic acts as hate. They shriek “Slaveowner!” anytime someone defends Southern Honor, then they themselves turn into zombie-slaves incapable of nuance or of being able to think for themselves.
I walked the sidewalks of Galena in 2020 looking for anyone who might be on my side and discovered very few. I do remember one bookstore owner though. I entered his establishment while carrying a backpack, so I asked him if he wanted me to leave it at the front desk. He said that that wouldn’t be necessary. From his store, I bought several books, one of which was on anarchism. In response to that book, he said, “This seems fitting considering what this year’s been like.”
At the time, I was still in the process of shedding my libertarian skin. I could have corrected him with, “Well, you’re thinking of the wrong kind of anarchism… have you heard of—blah, blah, blah?” But I didn’t do that. Why correct him with something I no longer believed myself? His comment came from an observation of reality.
Anarchism, to him, was a lack of order, and 2020 had been filled with that. I saw a desire for order in his eyes. And I knew that that’s what I wanted too. Real order—not the weird sign-following kind going on outside the store. I understood what anarcho-tyranny meant at that moment. And so did the bookstore owner, though he’d probably never heard of the term.
I think of that bookstore owner from time to time. As well as of Galena. Perhaps I’ll go back.