If you know me (and hopefully more of you will moving forward), you know that one of the recurring themes in both the fiction I read and the fiction I write is ordinary people doing extraordinary things. So how could I not take note of Laura Dekker’s odyssey.

In case you don’t remember, Dekker was the 16-year-old Dutch girl who sailed solo around the world in 2012, setting a new record. Here in the United States, we pretty much only got the news about this when she successfully completed the trip. But apparently the events leading up to her trip were nearly as challenging, with Dutch authorities attempting to seize custody of her from her father (her parents are divorced) when he publicly announced that he supported her plan to make the journey. She was 14 at the time.

The whole thing also precipitated a very polarizing public debate at the time. There were those, including the authorities, who called her plan ‘delusional’. And there were others who thought fulfilling her dream was feasible, worthwhile, and worth the non-trivial risk.

Not being a sailor (or at least not willing to sail anything much bigger than a Hobie-cat), I’m not sure I’m in a position to have a strong opinion on whether her plans were reasonable. Certainly they were unusual. But Ms. Dekker was born at sea, and spent the first five years of her life on a boat. Various articles suggest that she felt more at home at sea than on terra firma.

Perhaps the question to ask is what’s reasonable to expect from a 14-year-old. Well, 250 years ago they were raising families. Today, many of them can’t seem to focus long enough to get through a semester of junior high school. On the other hand, there are 14-year olds today working toward scholarships, and I’m sure that the class of 1764 had some losers in it as well. So what’s reasonable to expect from a 14-year-old? Well, perhaps that depends upon the 14-year old. And as far as the Danish equivalent of Child Protective Services is concerned, if the kid’s not being beaten or starved, I’d say how she’s being parented is none of your d*mn business. All things considered, I’d rather live in a world where an occasional young life is lost than one in which the dreams of amazing young people like Laura Dekker are systematically crushed.

But what did I mean by ‘This is going to be good’? Well, one part of the story I wasn’t aware of was that journalist Jillian Schlesinger shadowed Dekker from port to port during the course of her journey, and has created a documentary telling her tale. The work is titled Maidentrip, and the trailer can be viewed below.

No indication as to when the full film will be available; Amazon doesn’t have it,  but it can currently be saved on Netflix. It might be a good idea to do that now, to avoid the rush.

Business in Huntsville, followed by vacation in Memphis. No reason to travel all the way back to Boston, with the two destinations less than 200 miles apart.

Road Trip!!!!!

A quick browse of the web reveals that Avis will make this possible for only slightly over one hundred bucks, so the die is cast. A few days later, with the business part of my mission complete, I swing past the rental counter at HSV, sign my name a few times, and get handed the keys to a fairly new Ford Edge. Not quite what I expected (a compact sedan), but the trade of fuel economy for comfort seems like a reasonable one if I’m going to spend four hours on the road. I climb into the thing, turn the key, and get greeted by three separate LCD screens lighting up. That’s two more than in the panel of the Trinidad. Eventually I figure out enough of the touch panel to coax the climate control to a decent setting and tune the radio to an acceptable station. Having been to this area four times in the last few years, I’ve developed a taste for WDRM Huntsville/Decatur; I won’t be able to hold it all the way to Memphis, but its a good start.

With a four hour trip anticipated, but no need to meet my bride’s flight into MEM for eight hours, the previous evening had been spend studying the map to see if anything worthwhile was visible along the route. Corinth, Mississippi was the only town of any size, and it was close enough to the middle of the route to be stopworthy. Being a town of only 15,000 or so, I wasn’t expecting much, but Tripadvisor mentioned a Civil War museum that looked like it might be worthwhile. Route 72 turned out to be a county road, not an interstate, making it a bit slower but far more interesting. Some small towns (be sure to observe the speed limit), fewer farms than I’d have expected, and lots of undeveloped woods. Plenty of rain.

The miles click off on the GPS, and eventually I roll into the teeming megalopolis of Corinth. Its already 1:00 PM, so I opt for lunch first. Tripadvisor mentioned a Mexican place, but I accidentally blow past the address. While I’m turning around, I notice a bar-b-que shack that doesn’t exactly look Yankee-friendly, but what the hell, I’m hungry and what’s a road trip without a little adventure?

The place is one large room, with the obligatory license plates on the wall, soda machine off to one side, and a counter up front where you place your order. There’s a list of specials on the wall encoded with the local crypto key: 4 BN BBQ FF SLW $7.49. It takes me a few seconds but I manage to decode it, and it seems like a reasonable deal when I find out that it includes ‘pop’. The locals look like…well, locals. Lots of jeans, overalls, beards, beer. One guy has his daughter in tow, a blond positioned somewhere between the farmer’s daughter and Lolita. I’m out of place in my business casuals, but the proprietress is still willing to serve me, and even cracks a smile when, between ribs, I give her a thumbs-up about the food. Which was a bit charitable, but what the hell?

Now sated, I program the coordinates of the museum into the navicomputer and head over. The parking lot contains only a single car, and at first I think the place may be closed. But I decide to hike up the hill to the building anyway, and find that it is in fact open for business. I chat a bit with the park ranger/docent and begin my trek. My knowledge of the civil war is limited. Probably the last time I learned anything about it was in high school, and that was years ago. Quick version: Painful, bloody, brother against brother, some question as to whether it was about slavery, or keeping the union unified, or perhaps something else. Possibly it wasn’t necessary. But I suspect most wars look that way in retrospect.

Today’s lesson begins: At the crossroads of two critical rail lines, Corinth was of tactical significance to both the Union and Confederacy. One of the first battles of the war was fought in Shiloh, just a few miles to the Northeast. The losers regrouped in Corinth, which pretty much turned into a hospital. Not that it did much good; a combination of primitive medical technology and typhoid wiped out nearly as many soldiers as were lost on the battlefield. The town was also home to the first of the ‘Contraband Camps’; compounds where newly-freed slaves were fed and educated, and directed onto to the long road to citizenship.

The war lasted four years and took over 600,000 lives. Nearly one in fifty of the 90-year-old country’s population. How might it have played out if the Union had instead offered to ‘condemn’ the slaves, compensate their owners under eminent domain, and turn them free? Sure, it would have been expensive, but so was losing the lives of more than half a million citizens. The idea is not original, nor is it mine. One of John Roth’s characters speculates about it in Unintended Consequences (a definitely worthwhile read, if you can find a copy), But it’s always easy to Monday morning quarterback. And the teachings of the museum suggested that when the war began, people on both sides thought it was going to be a short one. Maybe that’s the case with all wars.

The rain makes it difficult for me to spend quality time contemplating the fountain behind the museum: a long rectangular pool flowing downhill, with each step representing a year of the war, and marble blocks commemorating each battle strewn across the pool, each in its appropriate place on the time line.

Despite the wind and downpour, I spend a few moments out there, and then head back in for a movie that does a pretty good job of reenacting the battles surrounding Corinth, what led up to them, and their aftermath. A short while later, I’m back in the car cruising downtown Corinth, trying with limited success to trace the route described on the ‘historic drive’ map I picked up at the museum. The sites of critical skirmishes now look like nothing more than grassy hills; it’s tough to imagine the amount of blood that was shed there. A visit to the Corinth Contraband Camp park is more rewarding. The site of the original camp is now a park, with bronze statues commemorating the activities of the past.

Tranquil and thought-provoking, at least until the winds knock down a tree that takes the nearby power lines with it. Yikes! By now time is starting to run out, and a short while later Corinth is receding in the rear-view mirror as I continue my trek west toward Memphis. I’ve learned a bit about Mississippi, and my country’s history, which is surely a Good Thing. And I’ve put Corinth on my personal map; if it ever makes the national news for good reason or bad, there will be a personal connection that there otherwise would not have been. But most of all, I’ve yet again underscored my incredible gratitude for the fact that I was born into this particular time and place.

And that’s a Good Thing, too.