Behind every word
is a person.
Shamus Smith
Founder & Chief Content Contributor
Just like his hometown of NYC, Shamus has always prided himself on being highly adaptable. So much so, that being diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease at age 34 barely registered as a speed bump. It would just be something to figure out along the way.
A Surgical Technologist and a former E.M.T.-D, Shamus is a senior clinical consultant for one of the world’s largest designers of orthopedic implants. A significant portion of his daily focus is in support of the Veteran Community.
Why I Write & Why It Matters…
Past:(Inspiration)
Having inherited my dad's interest in the American Civil War, I am always looking for new ways to consume knowledge on the subject. From books to podcasts, to walking the fields of Gettysburg and Antietam, the options are endless. Perhaps the most poignant of all remains the written words of soldiers sending letters home to family. In times of great challenge, sadness, and adventure, these ordinary people made time to write. I wish to do the same.
Present:
(Motivation)
My daily life is rapidly changing. I will be learning how to be a dad differently than I had ever anticipated. Amidst all the challenges and noise that life will bring I want to create something real for my boys.
Future:
(Anticipation)
I wish to create a legacy for my boys.
Perhaps more than most fathers in their mid-40s, there exists some likelihood that my time to communicate and interact with my sons in ways I would consider ideal may be limited. I am hopeful that what is created here will survive the testing of time and someday provide my boys valuable insights into how to walk through difficult circumstances.
Major Sullivan Ballou's last letter to his wife leading up to the battle at First Bull Run.
(Excerpt)
Headquarters, Camp Clark, Washington, D.C., July 14, 1861
My Very Dear Wife:
Sarah, my love for you is deathless. It seems to bind me with mighty cables, that nothing but Omnipotence can break; and yet, my love of country comes over me like a strong wind, and bears me irresistibly on with all those chains, to the battlefield. The memories of all the blissful moments I have spent with you come crowding over me, and I feel most deeply grateful to God and you, that I have enjoyed them so long. And how hard it is for me to give them up, and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and seen our boys grow up to honorable manhood around us. I know I have but few claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me, perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar, that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, nor that, when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.
Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless, how foolish I have oftentimes been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears, every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm.
My boys at Little Round Top, Gettysburg National Military Park. Evan is attempting some form of contemplative gesture with his right hand.
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