Here the highways cross. One heads north. One heads east

and west. On the corner of the square adjacent to the

courthouse a bronze plaque marks the place where two Civil

War generals faced one another and the weaker surrendered.

A few pedestrians pass. A beauty parlor sign blinks. As I turn

to head west, I become the schoolteacher living above the

barber shop. Polishing my shoes each evening. Gazing at the

square below. In time I befriend the waitress at the cafe and

she winks as she pours my coffee. Soon people begin to

talk. And for good reason. I become so distracted I teach my

students that Cleopatra lost her head during the French

Revolution and that Leonardo perfected the railroad at the

height of the Renaissance. One day her former lover returns

from the army and creates a scene at the school. That evening

she confesses she cannot decide between us. But still we spend

one last night together. By the time I pass the grain elevators

on the edge of town I am myself again. The deep scars of love

already beginning to heal. “Passing Through a Small Town” by David Shumate from High Water Mark. © University of Pittsburgh Press, 2004. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)

On this day in 1912, Virginia Stephen married Leonard Woolf. She was 30, he was 31, and they married at London’s St. Pancras Registry Office. Together, the couple founded the Hogarth Press in their dining room. They taught themselves how to print. Their first project was a printed and bound pamphlet containing a story by each of them. They published Virginia Woolf’s novels, a collection of Freud’s papers, and the works of writers who were then unknown, including Katherine Mansfield, T.S. Eliot, and E.M. Forster.

It was on this date in 1519 that the explorer Ferdinand Magellan set off to sail around the world. Although he was Portuguese, Magellan had sworn allegiance to Spain, and he began the journey with a fleet of five ships and 270 men to see if he could accomplish what Columbus had failed to: find a navigable route to Asia that didn’t involve going around Africa. They set sail from Seville, heading west. After crossing the Atlantic, surviving a mutiny, and losing one ship, Magellan reached Brazil and turned south, following the coast until he came to a deep-water strait that separated the rest of South America from Tierra del Fuego. Magellan entered the strait on All Saints’ Day in 1520, so he christened it the Strait of All Saints. Later, the Spanish king changed its name to the Strait of Magellan. After sailing 373 miles in the strait, Magellan became the first European to enter the Pacific Ocean from the east, and he’s the one who named it “Pacific,” because it was much calmer than the Atlantic. Unfortunately for Magellan, he never completed the voyage himself. The fleet stopped off in what are now the Philippine Islands, where Magellan befriended a local chief and offered to help him in his war with the natives on a neighboring island. Magellan was killed in battle in April 1521, and the remaining fleet continued on without him. They arrived back in Seville — down to one ship and 18 men — on September 8, 1522.

President James K. Polk signed an act establishing the Smithsonian Institution on this date in 1846. James Smithson was an English scientist. He was also the illegitimate son of a nobleman and a widow who was related to the royal family. Although he inherited a lot of money from his mother, his illegitimacy kept him from any of the social or career advantages that his family connections might have given him. “I am related to kings,” he wrote, “but this avails me not.” So instead, he spent his life studying, traveling, and getting to know some of the greatest scientific minds of Europe. He wrote, “It is in knowledge that man has found his greatness and his happiness.” Smithson never married, and had no children. Shortly before his death in 1829, he bequeathed his estate to the United States for the foundation of an institution for “the increase and diffusion of knowledge.” No one really knows why he left all his money to a country he had never visited. Smithson never gave a reason for his decision. The money, about half a million dollars, was transferred to the U.S. Mint in 1838, and for eight years, the people in charge argued about what he meant by the increase and diffusion of knowledge. Did he mean a university, an observatory, a research institute, a publishing house, a national library, or a museum? In the end, the Smithsonian Institution became all of those things, except a university. The Smithsonian complex now includes 15 different museums, including the National Museum of Natural History; the National Portrait Gallery; the Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum; the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden; and the National Zoo.

It’s the birthday of one of Brazil’s best-loved writers: Jorge Amado (books by this author), born near Ilhéus, Brazil (1912). He is one of the most widely translated novelists in the world; they called him the “Pelé of the written word.” His 32 books sold millions of copies in 40 languages. Brazilian hotels, bars, and restaurants, as well as brands of whiskey and margarine, were named for characters from his books. He’s the author of Gabriela, Clove and Cinnamon (1958), Home Is the Sailor (1961), and Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands (1966).

It’s the birthday of mystery novelist Ellen Hart (books by this author), born in Minneapolis, Minnesota (1949). Her experience in the restaurant business in Minnesota lends authenticity to her novels, which include This Little Piggy Went to Murder (1994) and Dial M for Meat Loaf (2001), which mixes murder with a fictional Minnesota newspaper’s meat loaf recipe contest. Her latest novel, The Old Deep and Dark (2014), was published last year.

It’s the birthday of poet Joyce Sutphen (books by this author), who grew up on a farm in St. Joseph, Minnesota (1949). Farm life was hard, but had its pleasures. Sutphen says her childhood was idyllic. “We played in a hay barn doing circus daredevil tricks. In our family, everyone was expected to pitch in and help, so I spent long hours picking strawberries, hoeing potatoes. I got to do things that girls don’t often get to do, like driving tractors, milking the cows.” In 1990, she was overseas, on a break from her Renaissance Studies at the University of Minnesota, when she began to consider a life not just of studying poetry, but also of writing it. “I found myself in London for three months, with a room of my own. I found my voice there, too.” She began writing the poems that would form the core of her prize-winning first collection, Straight Out of View (1995). She published several more books of poetry, and in 2011 she was named poet laureate for the state of Minnesota. She was the second poet laureate in the state’s history, following Robert Bly. Sutphen’s most recent book, Modern Love & Other Myths (2015), was published earlier this year.

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