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The New American Digest

For Followers of Gerard Van der Leun's Fine Work

  • About American Digest
  • About New American Digest
  • “The Name In The Stone”
  • Remembering Gerard Van der Leun
    • from the website: Through the Looking Glass
    • from the website: Barnhardt
    • from the website: Neo’s Blog
  • Articles
    • The Overland Stage
      • The Holladay Overland Stage: 1 – The Central Route
      • The Overland Stage – 2 Company Operations
      • The Overland Stage – 3 Exploring The Route – An Overview
      • The Overland Stage: 4 – South Platte/Julesburg/Ft Sedgwick
        • Jack Slade
      • The Overland Stage: 5 – Julesburg to Junction Station (aka Ft Morgan)
      • The Overland Stage: 6 – Junction Station to Latham
      • The Overland Stage: 7 – Latham Crossing to Fort Collins
      • The Overland Stage: 8 – LaPorte to Virginia Dale
      • The Overland Stage: 9 – Virginia Dale to Cooper Creek
      • The Overland Stage: 10 – Cooper Creek to Pass Creek
        • Fletcher Family
      • The Overland Stage: 11 – Pass Creek to Bridger Station
      • The Overland Stage: 12 – Bridger Pass to Duck Lake
      • The Overland Stage: 13 – Duck Lake to LaClede
      • The Overland Stage: 14 – LaClede to Almond
      • The Overland Stage: 15 – Almond to Rock Springs
      • The Overland Stage: 16 – Rock Springs to Fort Bridger
      • The Overland Stage: 17 – Fort Bridger to Weber Station

I find I don’t wish to explore new lands, but to explore again those I have already passed through, trying to see what I’d missed in the first hectic rush … Gerard Van der Leun

Home→Author Anne

Author Archives: Anne

Another thought—

The New American Digest Posted on March 27, 2025 by AnneMarch 27, 2025

I guess I should add this to "rules" ... but I've implied it:
-- I reserve the right to take comments which might get lost and turn them into posts.

I can still hear her words now— forty years later. They come in over my shoulder like a small wisp of fog. They caused a twist of fear to go through my gut back then, and they still do. 

She was so young then twelve or thirteen when she asked me: 
“Do you think it is ok for a woman researcher to steal a man’s research and claim it as her own work– my mom says it’s ok because women have been held back for so long.” 

When I look at all the cultural destruction and the waste and fraud that has been left behind for today’s president to clean up, and I remember how easily it was for the past two generations of female leadership to demand silent obedience. I hear those words again. It seems they became the guiding principle for every female seeking a position of authority ever since. 

It’s not so much that the ideals of fair play and equity they espoused were wrong—it is the lack of ethics with which they tried to enforce their brave new world. 

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Posted in Uncategorized | 6 Replies

This comes from my diary for 1988

The New American Digest Posted on March 25, 2025 by AnneMarch 25, 2025

A story from Anne; originally submitted as a comment.

Another sunny southern California Mother’s Day— we made it a special event. Dressed in our church going Sunday best we went to that famous Polynesian Restaurant in Laguna Beach. It’s been there for years overlooking the Pacific. Bamboo furniture, rattan wall coverings, plastic orchids, potted palms, and white tablecloths— smelling like too many years of teriyaki stir fry—it is considered a nice respectable Sunday tradition. 

The place was packed. We were seated next to a long table with a party of 11 people—nicely dressed young professionals in their early thirties. Five on each side, with the host at the head of the table holding court. A raging, loud drunk—he clearly demanded to be idolized. He loudly announced to everyone in that room that his daddy owned several large radio stations in the area. 

When we were first seated, he yelled over to my mother in a voice loud enough for everyone in the room to hear: “You’ve got a nice selection of good-looking gals —how much do they go for?” We were shocked and ignored him. He kept up the loud and abusive insults throughout our entire meal. The insults and words got even worse. At one point, he asked out loud, “does your blonde daughter have matching pubic hair?” He repeatedly accused my mom of being a madam, and myself and daughters of being her hookers. We could only ignore him. He thought he was very funny, and the loud tirade went on, and on, throughout the meal. I asked a waiter to help us—he responded there was nothing he could do. The evil man’s guests were embarrassed, and some of them tried to get him to stop. But he was all powerful in that realm of his and silenced his guests. We hurried through our meal. 

When I had had enough and we were ready to leave, I told my oldest daughter to go get the car and bring it around to the front—“make sure all the doors are unlocked and pull up to the curb right in front. Keep the engine running.” She scrambled out to get the car. I told youngest daughter (the Swedish blonde)— “take grandma and start walking her out to the car while I stay here and pay the bill.” Grandma and daughter both suspected that I had a plan and tried to hang back, but they did start to move away.

The bill came, and I laid down the cash. Mom and youngest were ahead of me—they had already passed the large table but were trying to walk away while looking backward.

I got up from my chair and walked the long length of that table—facing that evil man and the exit. Just before I came up even with him I fired off a very serious backhand. He fell out of his chair on the other side of the table —took his chair and some dishes with him! Seeing that, the youngest daughter spun grandma around and started pushing her through the dining room, almost as fast as if she was actually in a wheelchair! The last I saw of that animal he was trying to pull himself up from the floor crying “She slapped me, she slapped me!” I did see a slow-forming smile starting on the face of one of his male guests. Wished I could have seen the others. 

I kept walking. 

On the way out, I stopped at the host stand to explain what happened—his response was the same: “we can’t do anything about guests like that.” When I got to the car, the girls were already inside and we left. 

Strange thing about this—none of us wear much make-up! 

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Posted in Uncategorized | 17 Replies

Tomorrow

The New American Digest Posted on January 18, 2025 by AnneMarch 23, 2025

Anne presented this in the comments; I thought it worthy enough that her words should be shared with all rather than buried in a comment.
Anne - I hope that's OK; I didn't get your permission first.

I saw tomorrow yesterday
Actually, almost all of our tomorrows.

Standing inside with the cart full of groceries
I waited for him as he walked down the wrong row of cars searching for ours—away from me.

The gray skies had opened up
sending a golden shaft of light down on him
as he walked away from me.

My beloved is eighty two in a month from now—
The smartest man I have ever known seemed confused.

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Posted in others | 10 Replies

Rules

Gerard Van der Leun
12/26/45 - 1/27/23


Gerard's Last Post
(posthumous): Feb 4, 2023
"So Long. See You All a Little Further Down the Road"

When my body won’t hold me anymore
And it finally lets me free
Where will I go?
Will the trade winds take me south through Georgia grain?
Or tropical rain?
Or snow from the heavens?
Will I join with the ocean blue?
Or run into a savior true?
And shake hands laughing
And walk through the night, straight to the light
Holding the love I’ve known in my life
And no hard feelings

Avett Brothers - No Hard Feelings

The following was posted along with the announcement of Gerard's passing.
Leonard Cohen - Going Home

For a 2005 interview with Gerard


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    It's a good domain name. Somebody will buy it and use it. The trick is finding a reputable dealer in…

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Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man,
play a song for me
I'm not sleepy
and there ain't no place I'm goin' to

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man,
play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning,
I'll come followin' you

Take me for a trip upon
your magic swirling ship
All my senses have been stripped
And my hands can't feel to grip
And my toes too numb to step
Wait only for my boot heels to be wanderin'

I'm ready to go anywhere,
I'm ready for to fade
Unto my own parade
Cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it


Men who saw night coming down about them could somehow act as if they stood at the edge of dawn.


From Gerard's site. The picture always caught my eye.

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