Poetry and Politics: How Literature Can Supercharge Mere Humans
Our family’s visit to Massachusetts introduced us to a unique chapter in American history—a place where battles weren’t only fought with muskets but with words. In Concord, the town’s writers—Ralph Waldo Emerson and Louisa May Alcott—used literature to transform history, infusing courage, resilience, and unity into the American spirit. In nearby Cambridge, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow captured these same ideals in his verse, reminding us that words can immortalize history. Through their works, we saw how literature continues to shape lives and inspire courage across generations.
At the Old North Bridge in Concord, where “the shot heard round the world” was fired, we read lines from Emerson’s Concord Hymn, written to commemorate that battle. Emerson wasn’t simply recording history; he was reinterpreting it, making the courage of Concord’s farmers timeless. Jack asked why it was called “heard round the world” if it happened in this quiet town, and we explained that Emerson meant that a spark of freedom had been ignited, spreading far beyond Concord. His words transformed a local event into a global symbol of resistance.
During our visit, Lorelei and Jack were reading Louisa May Alcott’s Little Men, and Lorelei had just begun Jo’s Boys. Alcott was a student and mentee of Emerson’s, influenced by his philosophy of self-reliance and his view that literature should awaken readers to new possibilities. Inspired by Emerson, Alcott’s books were more than just stories; they were moral explorations, inviting readers to reflect on values like integrity, kindness, and resilience. She wrote about characters who struggled, grew, and found meaning in their lives—a message that resonated with our kids as they followed Jo, Laurie, and the children of Plumfield.
At Alcott’s home, the kids learned that her own father, Bronson Alcott, was a Transcendentalist who championed progressive ideas in education and encouraged Louisa’s writing. Emerson, who mentored Louisa, shared his library with her and encouraged her to explore big ideas through her work. He believed that literature was a way to expand the mind, challenge the soul, and cultivate independence. Alcott took these ideas to heart, infusing them into her novels. Through her characters, like Jo March, she gave young people a model of independence, showing them that their lives, no matter how simple, were worthy of exploration and expression.
Across the water in Boston, we saw another powerful example of literature’s ability to elevate history. Longfellow, inspired by Paul Revere’s legendary midnight ride, wrote a poem nearly a century after it happened, hoping to remind a divided America of its shared ideals. The poem, though not entirely accurate, turned Revere into a folk hero, showing readers that one person’s bravery could inspire a nation. As Dad recited the poem aloud, the kids imagined Revere galloping through the dark, carrying with him the hope of a fledgling nation.
These writers, separated by geography but united in purpose, show us that literature can be more than words on a page; it can be a bridge between generations. Emerson, Alcott, and Longfellow didn’t just record history—they crafted stories that awaken the imagination and embolden the heart. And as Lorelei and Jack read Little Men and Jo’s Boys, they’re learning from Jo’s journey of finding her voice and from the March family’s values, realizing that some ideas—like courage, kindness, and self-reliance—are worth carrying forward.
Our journey through Massachusetts revealed that literature isn’t just words on a page; it’s a legacy that connects people across time. Emerson’s philosophy, Alcott’s characters, and Longfellow’s legends are still here, showing our kids that they, too, can carry these ideals forward. In this way, Concord’s and Cambridge’s words continue to supercharge us mere humans with the belief that literature can make each of us part of a much larger story.
