A very long time ago, before Hallmark was even a twinkle in the corporate eye, reverence for mothers was expressed in stories that were shared and passed on, rather than greeting cards. Take for example the ancient Egyptian tale of Isis, who really, really wanted to have a baby with her husband Osiris. The fact that Osiris was dead and probably dismembered was but a trifle to a competent mother-to-be like Isis, and accordingly, she reassembled and resurrected her late husband just long enough for him to participate in the conception of their son. The end result was baby Horus who would grow up to become the first ruler of a unified Egypt, thus ensuring Isis’ new title and esteem as Mother of the Pharaohs.
Shock. Anger. Patriotism. Resolve. These were just some of the emotions that swept through the Northern states when Confederate forces fired on the Federal-held Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor, South Carolina on April 12, 1861. The Civil War had begun.
Two days after Sumter’s surrender, President Lincoln issued a call for 75,000 volunteers to put down the rebellion. Massachusetts answered the call with an overwhelming response, and nearly 160,000 Bay Staters would serve in the Union army and navy. Like the rest of the North, the people of Concord were angered and inspired, and the town of just over 2,000 inhabitants would ultimately do its part by sending 450 men off to the war.
The winter months can be confining in New England – short days and longer periods of darkness set in from October through January. We tend to hunker down in our homes and spend more time inside, seeking warmth and safety. Festivities and gatherings around town have promised to give us a chance to connect and check-in, to be a part of a community. Over the years, Concord has dependably been a safe and vibrant place to spend the holidays.
You see the names all over town: Musketaquid, Nashawtuc, Nashoba, Squaw Sachem. These words invite us to learn the stories of the people who lived in this place for thousands of years before English settlers arrived.
The English named this place Concord in 1635, but it had long been known by the region’s first peoples as Musketaquid. In the Algonquian language, the name means “grassy river” or “grassy island,” and the Sudbury, Assabet, and Concord Rivers have always been the lifeblood of the land. As Lemuel Shattuck recounts in his 1835 History of Concord, the local people lived “[by] planting, hunting, or fishing . . . and few places produced a supply more easily than Musketaquid.” 1
On September 6, 1847, Henry Thoreau left his small house at Walden Pond and moved back into the town of Concord. Having lived at Waldon Pond for over two years, he was, he would write, “a sojourner in civilized life again.”
Amos Bronson Alcott was about to drown.
How could this be happening? Born on November 29th, 1799, he was the eldest son of a poor farmer from Wolcott, Connecticut, and he was only 19 years old! Straining to keep his head above water, Bronson could see his bag on the shore with the $100 he was bringing home to help pay his father’s debts. And what of his mother, who taught Bronson his ABCs by having him trace them on her dirt parlor floor, her warm memory in stark contrast to the rigid teacher in the one room schoolhouse Bronson attended until leaving at age 10 to work full-time on his father’s farm.
When something this historic comes to pass, it’s only right that a publication dedicated to telling Concord’s important stories pauses to pay homage to the people behind that moment. This is one such tale – something that the people of Concord will look back upon as a milestone in their shared history. And the two people behind it are just as important. They have long loved this town and worked hard to build a thriving community here. What we are witnessing is the passing of the baton – one beloved chapter closes, while another opens to new possibilities. The doors of the West Concord 5&10 will close forever on December 31, 2020.
The Battle at the North Bridge on April 19, 1775, was well documented, but the running battle of the Minutemen and militia companies chasing the Regular Army out of Concord back to Charlestown along what we now call Battle Road is lesser-known. Records are incomplete and make the first five miles of the retreat impossible to reconstruct accurately. Nevertheless, the National Park Service has hunted down slender clues to provide a more complete history to the forgotten families who experienced fighting on their front lawns. Minute Man National Historical Park Ranger Jim Hollister was able to share some stories about families that lived on the Battle Road.
When you hear the words ‘Walden Pond’ you probably think of Henry David Thoreau and his cabin in the woods. If you’ve been here, you might also think of the many hiking trails and sandy little coves surrounding the gin-clear water of the pond where tens of thousands of people enjoy swimming and walking each season.
What you might not think about is the community of formerly enslaved people who once lived near Walden. Not because it was the beautiful, tranquil scene we flock to today, but because it was considered an infertile, out of the way, undesirable piece of land to Concord’s white population.
As Elise Lemire writes in her excellent book Black Walden, as many as fifteen formerly enslaved people ‘made a life for themselves in Walden Woods, enough that Henry David Thoreau could describe their community as a “small village.”’
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