Tag Archives: Wednesday Weekly Reader

The Foamy, Medicinal, Gloriously American Story of Root Beer

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There is a distinct, short-lived musical performance that occurs every time you drop a scoop of vanilla ice cream into a heavy glass mug of root beer. It begins with a sharp hiss, moves immediately into a frantic, crackling fizz, and culminates in a rich, silent crescendo of thick, tan foam creeping over the glass rim. If you are of a certain age, or if you simply possess a deep affection for the more eccentric corners of American culinary history, that sound is pure nostalgia.

With National Root Beer Day upon us, it felt like the perfect moment to pull a slender, delightfully specific volume off the shelf: The Root Beer Book: A Celebration of America’s Best-Loved Soft Drink by Laura E. Quarantiello.

Originally published in 1997, this 96-page appreciation is exactly the kind of book I love to discover. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, yet it treats its subject with the historical dignity that a century-and-a-half-old American staple deserves. Quarantiello unpacks the drink’s journey from indigenous herbal remedy to nineteenth-century temperance miracle, offering recipes, trivia, and a tour through the golden age of soda fountain culture.

My own deep affection for this beverage, however, goes beyond mere historical curiosity; it is rooted in a strange, 2-year-long sensory journey that began during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020. Like millions of others, I woke up one morning to find my world entirely muted. The virus had struck my olfactory system, leaving me with a profound and disorienting loss of taste and smell. Suddenly, Coke tasted like bitter water, Mountain Dew was disgusting, and favorite meals were reduced to mere textures.

The science behind this phenomenon is fascinating, if frustrating. The virus doesn’t actually destroy the taste buds on your tongue; instead, it attacks the sustentacular cells – the crucial support cells in the nasal cavity that protect and nurture our olfactory sensory neurons. When these cells are compromised, the brain loses its ability to process aroma. Because up to 80% of what we perceive as flavor actually comes from our sense of smell, losing this connection flattens the culinary world completely. For months, eating was a chore.

But then came the breakthrough. On a whim, I cracked open a cold bottle of craft root beer, and my palate suddenly woke up. It turns out there is a reason root beer can pierce through that post-viral fog when other foods fail. Unlike a cola or a fruit soda, which relies on a single dominant flavor profile, an authentic root beer is a botanical powerhouse. It hits multiple sensory receptors simultaneously. The sharp, cooling sensation of wintergreen and mint triggers the trigeminal nerve – the nerve responsible for detecting chemical cold and irritation – which bypasses the damaged olfactory support cells entirely. Combined with the deep, pungent bite of anise, the earthy sweetness of licorice, and the warm, distinct spice of real vanilla, root beer delivers an overwhelming, multi-layered sensory assault. It was the only thing that actually tasted good, launching me into a quest to track down and taste every classic, regional root beer formulation I could find as my senses slowly mended. Over the next 18 months, I tasted over 20 different brands of root beer from around the country.

From childhood memories of Frostie and A&W Root Beers to college favorite IBC Root Beer (courtesy of my Brownsville friends) to many more, I revisited regional and national brands. Key to the process was a local hardware store (Blackhawk Hardware in Charlotte) that carried many brands I had never heard of. Factor in the readily-available brands from all over the country via Amazon, and I was in root beer heaven.

Ultimately, Hank’s Gourmet Root Beer proved to be one of my favorites – but the journey was definitely fun, and all of them were better than soft drinks! After about two years, my taste slowly begin to come back, and now most things taste normal. But I still like root beer – especially with a burger or a hot dog or a cold root beer float on a hot summer day.

To understand root beer, you have to understand that it is essentially a forest in a glass. Unlike cola, which relies heavily on the citrusy, caffeinated notes of the kola nut and traditional spice oils, authentic root beer is an agricultural tapestry. Historically, it was brewed from whatever bark, roots, and berries could be foraged from the forest floor. Early colonial settlers looked at the wilderness and saw an apothecary. They gathered sassafras root, sarsaparilla, birch bark, dandelion, wintergreen, wild cherry bark, ginger, and juniper.

When these ingredients were boiled down, sweetened with molasses or honey, and fermented with a bit of yeast, the result was a bubbling, slightly alcoholic “small beer.” It was consumed not for luxury, but for survival; the brewing process made the water safe to drink, and the herbs offered a rustic shot of vitamins to hardy souls clearing the early frontier.

The man who transformed this colonial survival potion into a commercial empire was a Philadelphia pharmacist named Charles Elmer Hires. As Quarantiello recounts, Hires was on his honeymoon in New Jersey in the early 1870s when his landlady served him an exceptionally delicious, deeply flavorful herbal tea made from gathered roots. Being an enterprising pharmacist, Hires begged for the recipe, took it back to his laboratory, and began tinkering.

His original plan was to market the dry, powdered blend of sixteen roots, barks, and berries as “Hires’ Herb Tea.” He envisioned it as a dry mix that housewives could buy for a few cents, boil at home, and serve to their families as a wholesome, purifying health tonic.

Fortunately for us, Hires had a friend named Russell Conwell – the founder of Temple University – who possessed a keen eye for marketing. Conwell looked at the target audience of rugged Pennsylvania miners, laborers, and farmers and gave Hires a crucial piece of advice: “They won’t drink tea. Call it beer.”

It was a stroke of genius. Renamed “Hires Improved Root Beer,” the drink made its grand public debut at the 1876 Philadelphia Centennial Exhibition. Hires poured cold, foaming glasses of his concoction for fairgoers sweltering under the summer sun. It was an instant sensation. By positioning a completely non-alcoholic drink as a “beer,” Hires pulled off a spectacular marketing double-play. He won over the hard-working working class who wanted a robust, refreshing drink that felt like a beer, while simultaneously earning the passionate backing of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union, who hailed it as the ultimate alternative to the saloon.

Quarantiello’s book shines brightest when she dives into the sheer variety of the root beer landscape that followed Hires’ success. The market exploded with competitors, each tweaking the botanical balance to create a distinct regional identity.

Think about the modern survivors of that boom. A&W, born at a roadside stand in Lodi, California, in 1919 to welcome home returning World War I veterans, leans heavily on a smooth, creamy vanilla profile. It was designed to be served in frosted glass mugs kept in a freezer until the exact moment of pouring. Contrast that with Barq’s, which arrived out of Biloxi, Mississippi, in 1898. Edward Barq’s formulation was sharp, bitey, relied on sarsaparilla rather than traditional sassafras, and – crucially – included caffeine, making it a distinct outlier in the root beer world. Then you have IBC, founded in St. Louis during the height of Prohibition, offering a rich, dark, traditional flavor that felt so much like a premium beverage they packaged it in amber glass bottles resembling beer.

Reading through Quarantiello’s collection of recipes and home-brewing tips reminds us that root beer is a living piece of Americana. It survived the mid-twentieth century shift toward homogenized, mass-produced colas because it remained fiercely local. 30 years after her book was published, walking down the soda aisle, dropping in a local brewery, or visiting a local hardware store often reveals small-batch, regional root beers brewed with pure cane sugar and local water.

If you want to truly honor National Root Beer Day as a reader and a culinary enthusiast, skip the plastic two-liter bottles. Find a brand packaged in glass. Look for one that proudly lists real wintergreen, anise, or licorice on the label. Pour it deliberately into a heavy, chilled glass mug, watch the tan foam rise to a magnificent, trembling head, and take a sip of a beverage that was born in American forests, perfected in Philadelphia pharmacies, and served at roadside drive-ins across a changing continent.

It is sweet, sharp, complex, and entirely our own. Happy reading, and happy sipping!

Part of a regular series on 27gen, entitled Wednesday Weekly Reader.

During my elementary school years one of the things I looked forward to the most was the delivery of “My Weekly Reader,” a weekly educational magazine designed for children and containing news-based current events.

It became a regular part of my love for reading, and helped develop my curiosity about the world around us.

Beyond the Bunting

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Reclaiming the American Narrative

The machinery of American commemoration is running at full speed, and it is not pretty. Coffee mugs, lawn chairs, car insurance campaigns – all of it draped in red, white, and blue, stamped with some variation of a “250” logo.

That the country’s 250th birthday would generate commercial noise was never in doubt. What stings is the scale of it, the way the actual event – a group of men in Philadelphia signing a document that could have gotten them hanged – gets buried under promotional codes and pop-up advertisements. If you’re looking for something more than that, you have to step away from the marketplace entirely.

The place to go is the historians. Not all of them – but the ones who spent their careers thinking hard about what this country actually is, warts and self-correction included. David McCullough and Stephen Ambrose are two of the obvious candidates, and three of their books in particular speak directly to this moment: Ambrose’s final work, To America: Personal Reflections of an Historian (2002), and McCullough’s The American Spirit (2017) and the posthumous History Matters (2025). Read together, they form something more useful than a reading list. They form a rebuttal.

Two Historians, Two Very Different Urgencies

Ambrose wrote To America knowing he was dying. He completed it just before his death in October 2002, in the shadow of September 11, when the country was still sorting through its grief and its anger. That context matters. He wasn’t writing a textbook or a legacy project – he was writing a confession. Having spent decades in the archives of World War II and the Lewis and Clark expedition, he had developed a clear-eyed, sometimes painful sense of what America had done well and what it had willfully refused to do. This book was his chance to say it plainly, without the apparatus of academic argument.

McCullough’s situation was different. He published The American Spirit in 2017, watching the country fragment in ways that alarmed him. A two-time Pulitzer winner, he had earned the status of the nation’s go-to narrator – the voice people trusted to explain the founding generation, the Brooklyn Bridge, the Wright Brothers. But what he kept encountering, in classrooms and public life alike, was a creeping historical amnesia. The American Spirit collected his best speeches – talks given at universities, historic sites, and before Congress – as a kind of intervention. History Matters appeared three years after his death in 2022, assembled by his daughter Dorie McCullough Lawson and long-time researcher Michael Hill, with a foreword by Jon Meacham. It brings together previously unpublished essays that show how McCullough’s thinking developed over decades. The two volumes, read alongside Ambrose, make a complete picture.

What They’re Actually Arguing

The surface agreement between these writers is easy to summarize: America is neither the paradise its boosters claim nor the irredeemable project its critics insist upon. It’s something harder to hold – a country founded on promises its founders couldn’t keep, which subsequent generations have been, fitfully and incompletely, trying to honor ever since. But the surface agreement conceals real differences in emphasis.

Ambrose’s core argument is about the gap. The founders wrote magnificent things – Jefferson’s declaration of human equality is, by any measure, one of the most radical sentences in political history – and then failed to live by them. Slavery. The expulsion of Native Americans. The long exclusion of women from civic life. For Ambrose, these aren’t embarrassing footnotes. They’re the central drama. The true American story is the multi-generational attempt to close the distance between what the country proclaimed and what it actually did.

McCullough’s argument in The American Spirit is more temperamentally optimistic, focused less on the gap and more on the human qualities that have, at crucial moments, narrowed it. Curiosity. Cooperative effort. The refusal to accept that circumstances are fixed. He pushes back hard against the idea that history moves by impersonal forces – his consistent position is that individuals, acting from character, shape outcomes. History Matters deepens this into something more pedagogical: the case that historical literacy isn’t optional for citizens, that it provides the only reliable antidote to the kind of shallow, ahistorical cynicism that makes genuine democratic participation impossible.

The Passages That Stay With You

Ambrose writes the way a trusted professor talks – direct, unpretentious, willing to state the uncomfortable thing without dressing it up. On the central paradox of the founding, he wrote:

We are a people who have achieved much, but we have also sinned much. The men who wrote the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution were progressive thinkers who lived a profound contradiction… They gave the world a model of democracy while practicing the ultimate tyranny of human bondage. Our history is the story of trying to live up to the words they wrote, a journey that is far from over.

That last clause is doing a lot of work. It refuses both the triumphalist reading and the despairing one. The journey isn’t over – which means it’s still ours to continue or abandon.

McCullough operates on a different register. His prose has a symphonic quality, built for public delivery, designed to stir rather than prod. In The American Spirit, speaking to a graduating class, he offered a warning:

History is a spacious country of the mind, and if you do not know your own history, you are like a leaf that doesn’t know it’s part of a tree. We must remember that our founders were not gods; they were human beings, flawed and uncertain, yet they achieved something miraculous because they possessed a sense of purpose larger than themselves. If we lose that sense of purpose, if we become a nation of spectators rather than participants, our democracy will wither from within.

The leaf metaphor is the kind of thing that sounds obvious until you sit with it. And the distinction between spectators and participants is where his argument gets genuinely sharp – democracy doesn’t run on sentiment. It runs on people who show up. In History Matters, McCullough’s voice becomes quieter, more reflective, less oratorical:

Real history is never just about politics or war; it is about the human heart, about character, about the books people read and the art they created. When we look at Harry Truman or George Washington, we are looking at men whose strength came from an old-fashioned adherence to honor, honesty, and hard work. History matters because it reminds us, in the darkest of times, that we have been through worse, and that decent, determined people can prevail.

Where They Agree and Where They Diverge

Both men are categorically opposed to the twin temptations of American historical thinking: the whitewash that erases genuine national sins, and the overcorrection that reduces the entire story to an indictment. Both hold pride and repentance in tension, and both treat human character as the hinge on which history turns. Whether Ambrose is writing about a nineteen-year-old at Omaha Beach or McCullough is tracing John Adams’s obstinate integrity, the argument is the same: what people do, and why they do it, is what history actually is.

But their temperaments differ, and so do their methods. Ambrose is grittier, more political, more attuned to friction. He’s interested in military strategy, in the mechanics of presidential power, in how Eisenhower differed from Nixon and why it mattered. His work has the texture of investigative journalism – he went to the archives and to the veterans themselves, and it shows. McCullough is more interested in culture: painting, architecture, education, the intellectual habits that shape a civilization. He’ll spend as much time on Thomas Eakins or the engineering of the Brooklyn Bridge as on any political figure.

History Matters also gives us something the other books don’t – a view of McCullough’s own formation. His childhood in Pittsburgh, his early mentors, his lifelong attachment to literature and visual art. It’s the backstage pass to the grand claims made in his other works, and it makes those claims more convincing, not less.

Why Read These Books Now

The obvious answer is that these books offer a corrective to the 250th anniversary spectacle. They replace cheap patriotism with the demanding, rewarding kind that requires actually knowing something.

But there’s a more specific case for each of them. Ambrose’s To America is a reality check. It prevents the comfortable nostalgia that imagines the past as simpler or purer than the present. Every generation, he insists, faced catastrophic challenges and internal divisions – and the question each generation had to answer was whether it would do better than the one before. Reading him turns you from a passive consumer of national mythology into something more useful: someone who knows what the mythology is covering up and why it matters.

McCullough’s American Spirit and History Matters perform the complementary service. Against the grinding cynicism that makes civic participation feel pointless, he makes the case for hope – not the greeting-card kind, but the documented kind, grounded in specific people who faced genuinely terrible circumstances and figured something out. The American track record of innovation, resilience, and moral course-correction is real. It doesn’t erase the failures, but it means the failures aren’t the whole story.

When the fireworks go up this summer, the question worth asking isn’t whether the commercialism is crass – it obviously is. The question is what you actually think you’re celebrating. The Declaration of Independence was not a marketing milestone. It was a radical, dangerous act by people who knew it might get them killed. Ambrose and McCullough, each in his own way, help you hold that reality in your mind while the lawn chairs and insurance jingles try their best to crowd it out.

That’s not a small thing.

Part of a regular series on 27gen, entitled Wednesday Weekly Reader.

During my elementary school years one of the things I looked forward to the most was the delivery of “My Weekly Reader,” a weekly educational magazine designed for children and containing news-based current events.

It became a regular part of my love for reading, and helped develop my curiosity about the world around us.

Glazed, Frosted, and Sprinkled: Getting Ready for National Donut Day

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Though I certainly enjoyed donuts throughout my childhood, a single book is responsible for the fondness I have for them as an adult.

Books will do that to you.

Like many things in my life, this fondness all came about because of a book: Homer Price.  I have great memories of reading one of the stories in the book about Homer and Uncle Ulysses and the automatic doughnut machine.

 I remembered the image of doughnuts stacked on the counter, shelves, and stools with more coming out of the machine every minute.

I didn’t realize at the time how a book about donuts could be linked to so much more in life.

THE DOUGHNUTS takes place in the 1940’s when an uncle of a boy named Homer opens a luncheonette. Uncle Ulysses, much to the chagrin of his wife Agnes, is a man fond of new-fangled gadgets and has installed a doughnut making machine in his restaurant.

One evening, while Homer is visiting his uncle’s restaurant, Uncle Ulysses leaves Homer in charge of putting the finishing touches on the doughnut machine while he stops by the barber shop. Homer works on the machine and is soon visited by an “advertising man” who stops by for coffee and a doughnut.

While the man waits for the doughnut machine to begin working, a wealthy woman enters the restaurant. She asks Homer if she can mix up the doughnut batter for him, takes off her diamond bracelet, and sets to work. 

Soon the doughnut machine is working – too well! Homer cannot stop the doughnuts from popping out of the machine! Her job finished, the woman leaves and Homer and the advertising man look for places to store the doughnuts.

Homer and the man put their heads together and come up with a scheme to sell the doughnuts “2 for 5 cents” in order to be rid of them. Eventually, the wealthy woman returns, claiming to have left her bracelet in the restaurant.

Shortly, it becomes evident that the bracelet must be in one of the thousands of doughnuts. Homer has an idea! He makes a sign offering one hundred dollars for anyone who can find the bracelet. It doesn’t take long for the doughnuts to be gobbled up and the bracelet to be found.

The end of the story finds Uncle Ulysses trying to explain to skeptical Aunt Agnes why there are tons of crumbs from dozens of doughnuts left on the restaurant counter!

Trivia Note: Have you ever seen the short film The Doughnuts, based on the story above?

As I recall, the copy of Homer Price I had as a boy came from that wonderful invention designed to sell books to eager young readers like me: the Scholastic Book Fair. Not only could I order books, but our classroom benefited too by receiving books for our in-room library. Sadly, many years later when my kids were in elementary school, the Book Fair was less focused on books and more on junk. That’s another story for another time.

What’s the big deal with a child’s book published in 1943, read by a first grade teacher to her class in 1964, bought by a second grader as soon as he could in 1965, and fondly remembered over sixty years later?

Regular readers of this website know that reading and books are a big deal to me. Introduced by my schoolteacher mother, encouraged by my daily reader father, and nurtured over the years by teachers and professors, it’s not too far off the mark to say these images explain the big deal about reading:

Books have the power to ignite the imagination and foster creativity in children. This imaginative capacity can carry over into adulthood, allowing individuals to approach challenges with creative problem-solving skills and innovative thinking. Seeing this image, and reading about Homer’s dilemma and ultimate solution planted a seed in me: sometimes the best way out of a jam is to sit and think first, and then act on the solution that comes to you.

Reading from an early age has been linked to improved cognitive abilities, such as better language skills, broader vocabulary, enhanced critical thinking, and stronger analytical capabilities. These cognitive benefits persist into adulthood, enabling individuals to process information more effectively and think more critically. Putting together a disassembled donut machine, then making it work so well that Homer had to come up with an idea to get rid of all those donuts – that’s critical thinking!

Children who cultivate a love for reading at an early age are more likely to maintain a curiosity and thirst for knowledge throughout their lives. Books become a gateway to continuously learning new things, exploring different perspectives, and expanding their horizons. Homer’s curiosity got him into the problem, and willingness to continue thinking got him out of it.

I could go on, but I hope you get the point: While not everyone who loved reading as a child maintains that passion into adulthood, those who do often find that their early love of books has profoundly shaped their intellectual, emotional, and personal development in enduring ways.

All from a child’s book about a runaway donut machine…

…which is where I now hope to make the connection for you!

It’s that time of year again when the sweet, doughy aroma of fresh donuts fills the air and Americans come together to honor one of the nation’s most beloved breakfast treats. Friday, June 5th marks National Donut Day 2026, a delicious holiday that pays homage to the humble yet iconic donut. This is an annual recognition, falling on the first Friday of June each year.

With roots tracing back to World War I, when Salvation Army “Lassies” fried donuts in soldiers’ helmets as a morale-boosting treat, National Donut Day has become an annual tradition that transcends generations. This year’s celebration promises to be even sweeter, with donut shops and bakeries across the country rolling out their finest creations to mark the occasion.

From the classic glazed to the creative cronut, the donut landscape has evolved dramatically over the decades, reflecting the changing tastes and culinary adventurousness of American consumers. Gourmet donut boutiques have taken the humble pastry to new heights, adorning them with artisanal ingredients like small-batch jams, craft chocolates, and hand-torched meringues.

At the same time, the nostalgia for simpler pleasures remains strong, with long lines still forming at old-fashioned donut counters for pillowy yeast-raised rings and sugar-dusted cake donuts. After all, there’s something undeniably comforting about biting into a fresh, warm donut that instantly transports you back to childhood.

There are several reasons why donuts have become such a beloved and popular food in American culture:

  • Convenience and portability: Donuts are easy to eat on-the-go, making them a convenient breakfast or snack option for people with busy lifestyles.
  • Nostalgia and comfort food: Donuts evoke a sense of nostalgia and comfort for many Americans, reminding them of childhood memories, family gatherings, or neighborhood donut shops.
  • Variety and customization: Donuts come in an endless array of flavors, glazes, toppings, and fillings, allowing for personalization and catering to diverse tastes.
  • Indulgence and treat: Donuts are often seen as an indulgent treat or reward, satisfying cravings for something sweet and decadent.
  • Cultural significance: Donuts have become deeply ingrained in American culture, with events like National Donut Day and the association with coffee breaks and diners.
  • Accessibility and affordability: Donuts are widely available and relatively inexpensive, making them an accessible indulgence for people from various socioeconomic backgrounds.
  • Marketing and branding: Major donut chains like Dunkin’ Donuts and Krispy Kreme have successfully marketed and branded their products, contributing to the popularity of donuts.
  • Versatility: Donuts can be enjoyed at any time of day, from breakfast to dessert, and can be served on various occasions, from casual gatherings to special events.

The combination of convenience, indulgence, nostalgia, variety, and cultural significance has made donuts a quintessential American food that appeals to a broad range of consumers and has become deeply embedded in the country’s culinary landscape.

This year, celebrate National Donut Day by indulging in your favorite fried confection, whether it’s an old reliable or an Instagram-worthy gourmet creation. Share one with a loved one over a steaming cup of coffee, or treat your office mates to a box of assorted delights.

However you choose to commemorate the occasion, take a moment to appreciate the humble donut and its rich place in American culture and history. From the battlefields of World War I to the modern artisanal bakeries, the donut has proven its enduring appeal and cemented its status as an iconic American comfort food.

So grab a napkin and prepare to get deliciously sticky – it’s almost National Donut Day, and the only acceptable response is to treat yourself to a sugary, doughy delight – and a good book!

The rings of batter kept right on dropping into the hot fat, and the automatic gadget kept right on turning them over, and the other automatic gadget kept right on giving them a little push, and the doughnuts kept right on rolling down the little chute just as regular as a clock can tick – they just kept right on a comin’, an’ a comin’, an’ a comin’, an’ a comin’.

Uncle Ulysses

Part of a regular series on 27gen, entitled Wednesday Weekly Reader.

During my elementary school years one of the things I looked forward to the most was the delivery of “My Weekly Reader,” a weekly educational magazine designed for children and containing news-based current events.

It became a regular part of my love for reading, and helped develop my curiosity about the world around us.

Smashed, Steamed, or Grilled: Your Guide to National Burger Day

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Every year around late May, you can just smell it in the air – that specific, greasy grill smoke from beef hitting a hot flat-top. National Burger Day on May 28th isn’t just some made-up internet holiday; it’s a day celebrating the ultimate American comfort food. Burgers have been the one thing everyone can agree on forever, whether you got them from an old-school shack or a 24-hour diner. If you’re firing up the grill or ordering takeout this week, you really need to look at what George Motz is doing, because he’s basically mapped out the entire country’s burger scene.

If burgers are a religion in this country, George Motz is definitely the guy preaching it. He just put out the 4th edition of Hamburger America, which just proves he’s still the absolute expert on this stuff. It’s not just a list of places to eat; it’s a massive road trip guide showing how different states do their burgers. The best way to spend the day is just following his lead and finding something good to eat.

The Evolution of a Legend

After the first edition of Hamburger America came out, a small but passionate community of burger obsessives began reaching out to Motz from all over the country. Many emailed to say they’d love to have his job – and almost all of them wanted to help with future research.

Most were already respected food writers or local burger experts in their own cities and regions. Over time, this growing network became invaluable to Motz. They were often the first to uncover hidden gems and new discoveries. He jokingly started calling them his EBTs – Expert Burger Tasters – and they embraced the role with remarkable seriousness.

With each new edition of the book, the EBT ranks expanded. After the second edition, the list quadrupled, and by the third and fourth editions, dozens more had joined the mission. Today, it’s a large and deeply committed group, and Motz is grateful to every one of them.

These EBTs willingly venture into forgotten roadside stands, worn-down diners, and questionable dives – sometimes driving hours just to taste a burger and report back. Their groundwork makes my own research sharper and far more efficient. Along the way, many of them have also become close friends and trusted burger companions, often joining me when I visit their favorite local spots.

Motz has spent twenty years driving down backroads just looking for the best local spots. This new edition is huge – it has over 200 places he encourages you to try. What I like about his style is that he only cares about “real” burgers – meaning fresh beef, never frozen, from places that have been doing it right for decades.

He really goes to bat for all the weird local styles that make food interesting. Whether it’s the deep-fried burger of Memphis or the butter-soaked patties of Wisconsin, Motz treats each variation with the reverence a historian might give a founding document. He shows how these burgers actually tell you a lot about the blue-collar towns where they started.

The Map of Flavor

National Burger Day is a good excuse to actually try one of these weird regional styles from the book. Like the Oklahoma Fried Onion Burger – people started making those during the Depression because onions were cheap, so they smashed a ton of them into the meat to make it stretch. Over the years the number of these burger joints has dwindled, but the fans still flock into El Reno, OK on the first Saturday in May to celebrate the “World’s Largest Fried Onion Burger,” where the three remaining restaurants work together to create a 12-foot round onion burger – sharing it with thirty-thousand plus crowd.

Then there is the Steamed Cheeseburger of Connecticut, where they steam the burgers and the cheese in a little metal box until it’s just a gooey mess. It sounds totally bizarre if you didn’t grow up there, but it’s a total classic.

Or how about the weirdly named but awesome tasting Slug Burger, a regional specialty of northern Mississippi? Developed during the Great Depression as burger counters dreamed up ways to stretch their ground beef, these burgers have breadcrumbs from yesterday’s bread added in, along with various spices. Curious about the name? It comes from slang of the era when a “slug” meant a nickel – which is what one of the burgers cost.

The stories above could be repeated in every state as various cooks over the decades have added this or that ingredient or cooking technique to hit on a winner recipe that their customers flocked in to buy.

The book shows that eating at these places links you back to generations of people doing the exact same thing.

The Philosophy of the Smash

Throughout the book Motz points out details about the “smash” technique – where you press the beef hard onto a searing hot griddle to get that perfect, crispy crust. That’s where all the flavor hides anyway. Cooks and burger joints all across have been doing it for generations, but every type of restaurant seems to have its own version lately. According to Motz, you don’t need fancy stuff like truffle oil; you just need salt, high heat, and a heavy spatula.

Keeping it simple is why people love burgers in the first place. Food gets way too pretentious these days, but a good burger doesn’t pretend to be anything else. Motz likes to say that every burger is a sandwich, but a sandwich isn’t a burger. You need the right blend of meat – usually 80/20 – and a bun that won’t fall apart when things get juicy.

Celebrating May 28th: Your Personal Pilgrimage

So what should you do on National Burger Day? The book gives you a couple of options. You could drive out to an old greasy spoon from the guide – like Louis’ Lunch in Connecticut, where they say the burger was invented back in 1900. Or just stay home and try out Motz’s cooking tips in your own kitchen. The great thing about burgers is that anybody can make a good one. You don’t need a fancy kitchen; you just have to do what the old-school places do.

More Than Just Meat

Today is really about cheering for the short-order cooks who’ve been using the same grill for fifty years, the diners where they know your name, and guys like Motz keeping the history alive. It’s time to grab a burger today and think about how much history is actually packed into it. George Motz’s Hamburger America, 4th Edition is great because it reminds you that behind every good burger is usually a family business or some local tradition that survived.

So whether you like them smashed, steamed, or cooked over charcoal – with onions, pickles, or just plain salt and pepper – go get a good one. Enjoy your burger! 

I’ve been into burgers for a long time – check out my Burger Quest from a few years ago!

Part of a regular series on 27gen, entitled Wednesday Weekly Reader.

During my elementary school years one of the things I looked forward to the most was the delivery of “My Weekly Reader,” a weekly educational magazine designed for children and containing news-based current events.

It became a regular part of my love for reading, and helped develop my curiosity about the world around us.

May 20, 1775: First in Freedom, Last to Get Credit

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Three books that make the case for America’s forgotten first independence.

Every May 20th, the date printed on the North Carolina state flag gets its moment of annual celebration here in Mecklenburg County. There are speeches, maybe a reenactment. The Queen City tips its hat to a story that most of the country has never heard, then moves on. But in 2026 – as the nation prepares to celebrate its 250th anniversary with parades, fireworks, and the full weight of collective patriotic feeling – that quiet, local ritual has never carried more weight. Because if three books about the Mecklenburg Declaration of Independence are right, the story of American freedom doesn’t begin on July 4, 1776. It begins here. On May 20, 1775. Fourteen months earlier. In a log courthouse that used to stand where Uptown Charlotte now hums with commerce.

That’s either the most extraordinary fact in American history or one of its most elaborate myths. And the question of which it is has consumed lawyers, historians, journalists, and devoted amateurs for more than two centuries. Three books – David Fleming’s Who’s Your Founding Father?, Scott Syfert’s The First American Declaration of Independence?, and Richard Plumer’s Charlotte and the American Revolution – approach that question from different angles, with different tools, in different voices. Read together, they form something close to a complete portrait of an event that deserves to be far more than a footnote on a state flag.

What Actually Happened — or What People Say Happened

The story, as best we can reconstruct it: on May 19–20, 1775, roughly two dozen militia leaders from Mecklenburg County gathered in Charlotte’s log courthouse. Word had just arrived of the battles at Lexington and Concord. Enraged, they drafted a declaration severing Mecklenburg County’s ties to the British Crown, declaring themselves free and independent people. A tavern owner named James Jack rode nearly six hundred miles to Philadelphia to deliver it to the Continental Congress, who considered it premature and quietly set it aside. The original document was later lost – possibly destroyed in a fire – and the story largely faded until 1819, when John Adams stumbled upon a newspaper account of it and wrote to his old political rival Thomas Jefferson that it was “one of the greatest curiosities and one of the deepest mysteries that ever occurred to me.”

Jefferson, for his part, called it “spurious.” Which is exactly what you might expect a man to say if he’d lifted large portions of his most famous work from someone else’s document.

That charge – that Jefferson plagiarized the MecDec when writing the national Declaration of Independence – is at the molten core of all three books. Adams believed it. Eleven U.S. presidents, by various accounts, have found the story credible enough to warrant further investigation. And the language of the two documents bears uncomfortable similarities that are either cosmic coincidence or the most consequential act of intellectual theft in American history.

Three Authors, Three Lenses

David Fleming: The Gonzo Investigator

David Fleming arrived at the MecDec story the way a lot of people do – sideways, almost accidentally, pulled in by the sheer strangeness of it. A veteran sports journalist for ESPN and Sports Illustrated known for his irreverent, character-driven long-form work, Fleming is not a historian by training. He is, as he’s been described, a gonzo journalist – and that’s precisely what makes Who’s Your Founding Father? (2023) so readable, so genuinely fun, and so unexpectedly moving.

Fleming describes himself falling down a rabbit hole, then deciding to go deeper instead of climbing out. What follows is part detective story, part road trip, part love letter to Charlotte and the stubborn locals who’ve refused to let this story die. He visits archives. He wanders through cemeteries. He travels to England. He is constitutionally unable to resist a Dunkin’ Donuts reference. His affection for the “misfit band of zealous Scots-Irish patriots, whiskey-loving Princeton scholars and a fanatical frontier preacher” who gathered in that courthouse is genuine and infectious.

But the book is not merely entertaining. Fleming makes a substantive case. He traces the journey of James Jack’s six-hundred-mile horse ride with the reverence it deserves, reconstructs the intellectual and theological climate that made such a declaration possible, and builds a compelling argument that the MecDec’s obscurity is not an accident of history – it’s the result of active suppression, first by the Continental Congress who feared its radicalism, then by Jefferson’s defenders who had every reason to keep the plagiarism question buried.

Reviewers have compared the book to National Treasure, which sounds like a throwaway compliment but actually captures something real: Fleming makes you feel the stakes. When author Tommy Tomlinson calls Who’s Your Founding Father? a book that “will change how you see American history,” it’s the kind of blurb that usually oversells – but here, it lands. The book has a way of making Charlotteans feel a proprietary pride they maybe didn’t know they were missing.

Scott Syfert: The Lawyer Who Became a Believer

Where Fleming comes at the MecDec as an outsider who converts, Scott Syfert comes as a resident who decided to do the work. A corporate attorney and co-founder of the May 20th Society – the nonprofit dedicated to keeping the MecDec’s legacy alive – Syfert published The First American Declaration of Independence? in 2013, a full decade before Fleming’s book arrived. He is the foundational text. Fleming, to his credit, acknowledges as much.

Syfert’s book is structured like a legal brief written by someone who understands that jurors need stories, not just evidence. He divides the book into five sections, walking readers through the backcountry origins of Mecklenburg County, the formation of its fiercely independent Scots-Irish Presbyterian community, the events of May 1775, and then the two centuries of controversy that followed. He presents both sides. He genuinely does. But as one reviewer noted, he approaches the material like a defense attorney rather than a neutral judge: the goal is not a verdict of “definitely happened” but rather reasonable doubt about the doubters.

The book’s great contribution is its methodical excavation of the evidence. Syfert examines the surviving correspondence of North Carolina’s royal governor, who referred to treasonous activity in Mecklenburg in dispatches that predate any supposed forgery. He traces the similarities between the MecDec’s language and Jefferson’s 1776 text, and walks through Adams’s private letters accusing Jefferson directly. He handles the fire that destroyed the original document – the most convenient fact for skeptics – with the seriousness it deserves rather than dismissing it as simply unlucky.

Ken Burns called Syfert’s book a work that rescues “a little-known story of our Revolutionary past” and brings it “vividly to life.” Historian Andrew Roberts described it as “one of the finest pieces of historical detective work I’ve ever read,” calling Syfert “the Sherlock Holmes of the Mecklenburg Declaration.” That’s not overstatement. By the end, a reader who began skeptical will find, as one Journal of the American Revolution reviewer did, that they’ve “accepted the possibility that the document may indeed have existed.”

The question mark in the title is honest. Syfert doesn’t claim certainty. He claims probability, marshaled through careful, readable, thoroughly cited work. That intellectual honesty is part of what makes the book so effective.

Richard Plumer: The Ground-Level Chronicler

If Fleming is the entertainer and Syfert is the advocate, Richard Plumer is the archivist – the writer who zooms out to show you the full landscape in which the MecDec was born. Charlotte and the American Revolution (2014, The History Press) is the most locally rooted of the three books, and in some ways the most essential for Mecklenburg County residents who want to understand not just what the MecDec says but why it was possible here, in this place, among these specific people.

Plumer’s central subject is the Reverend Alexander Craighead, the fiery Presbyterian minister whose theological and political rhetoric became the intellectual kindling for the Declaration. Craighead was not a mild man. His ultraconservative Calvinist theology mapped neatly onto revolutionary politics: obedience to unjust authority was not just impractical, it was spiritually impermissible. He preached a congregation into a posture of resistance long before Lexington and Concord gave that resistance a specific target.

Plumer is a member of the Mecklenburg Historical Association, and his book reads like the work of someone who has spent years in county archives, church records, and family histories. The detail is rich. The context is essential. He makes clear that the MecDec did not emerge from nowhere – it emerged from a specific community, shaped by specific theology, living at the edge of civilization with minimal help from and maximum frustration with British authority.

The raw numbers he surfaces are remarkable: though Mecklenburg County held less than three percent of North Carolina’s colonial population, its patriots accounted for more than a quarter of the colony’s Revolutionary troops. This was not a passive place. This was a community already constitutionally disposed toward independence, waiting for the moment to say so formally.

Plumer’s book fills in the human geography that makes the other two books make sense. You can read Fleming and feel the excitement of the story. You can read Syfert and feel the weight of the evidence. But read Plumer, and you understand the why – the theology, the culture, the community that made it conceivable that two dozen men in a log courthouse in the Carolina backcountry could look at each other on May 20, 1775, and say: enough. We’re done.

Why 2026 Is the Year to Read All Three

There’s something clarifying about big anniversaries. America’s 250th birthday is a moment when the country tends to revisit its founding myths – to ask which ones are accurate, which ones are convenient, and which ones have been quietly buried. The MecDec story is all three at once.

As a resident of Mecklenburg County, I live on ground that may have been the actual cradle of American independence. Not Philadelphia. Not Boston. Here. And yet most of my neighbors – and nearly all of my fellow Americans – have never heard of May 20, 1775. That tension feels worth correcting in a year when the nation is, for once, paying attention to its own origins.

The three books, read together, form something like a complete case. Plumer gives you the soil – the culture and community that made the MecDec possible. Syfert gives you the evidence – the most thorough, balanced, legally rigorous examination of what we know and don’t know. And Fleming gives you the joy of discovery – the reminder that history isn’t just the province of academics, that a journalist with a plane ticket and an obsession can still crack open a two-hundred-and-fifty-year-old mystery and find something worth knowing inside.

None of the three books claims to have settled the debate definitively. The original document is gone. The evidence is circumstantial in places and contested in others. But there are things that are harder to explain away: the royal governor’s letters mentioning treasonous Mecklenburg activity before any supposed forgery could have occurred. The eyewitness accounts collected decades later. The extraordinary overlap between the MecDec’s language and Jefferson’s draft. The suspicious silence of a man – Jefferson – who was not typically silent about anything.

John Adams believed the story was real and begged his country to take it seriously. He called it “the genuine sense of America” – not a regional curiosity, but the truest expression of what the revolution was actually about: ordinary people, in an ordinary place, deciding that they were done waiting for permission to be free.

The people who signed that document in Charlotte’s log courthouse – the Scots-Irish farmers and frontier preachers and tavern owners – were not famous. They were not Founding Fathers with portraits and monuments. They were, in many ways, the people who usually get left out of the story. And that’s exactly why, in 2026, the story of the MecDec feels so present, and so important, and so worth finally telling.

If you’re looking for books that challenge what you thought you knew about America’s origins, look no further.

This unforgettable trio delivers history with a healthy dose of humor, reads like a true-crime caper, and provides a thought-provoking, entertaining, and utterly unforgettable dive into a piece of the past that might just rewrite a small, but significant, chapter in the story of American independence. 

You might even find yourself rooting for a different “founding father” by the end!

If you liked this article, or are curious about American history – especially during the growing excitement around the 250th anniversary of the other Declaration of Independence, you might be interested in “Booked for the Revolution.”

It’s a weekly article published on Fridays that takes a look at the beginning years of the U.S. through a book each week. Check out the series here.

Part of a regular series on 27gen, entitled Wednesday Weekly Reader.

During my elementary school years one of the things I looked forward to the most was the delivery of “My Weekly Reader,” a weekly educational magazine designed for children and containing news-based current events.

It became a regular part of my love for reading, and helped develop my curiosity about the world around us.

The Golden Crust of Heritage: Celebrating National Apple Pie Day

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Every May 13, kitchens across the country fill with the scent of cinnamon, nutmeg, and tart Granny Smiths. National Apple Pie Day isn’t just a celebration of a dessert; it’s an annual homage to a cultural icon. We’ve all heard the phrase “as American as apple pie,” a cliché so worn it’s practically smooth. But have you ever stopped to wonder how a fruit native to Kazakhstan and a pastry tradition rooted in medieval England became the definitive symbol of the American spirit?

To truly celebrate this day, one must look beyond the lattice crust and into the deep, often complex history of the dish itself. Perhaps no one has chronicled this journey more vibrantly than John T. Edge in his “fruitful” work, Apple Pie: An American Story. Edge, a renowned food scholar and director of the Southern Foodways Alliance, doesn’t just give us recipes; he gives us a roadmap of the American identity through the lens of a pie tin.

The Myth of the “American” Apple

The great irony of our national obsession is that apples are not originally American. When European settlers arrived, the only native apple was the sour, diminutive crabapple. It was the colonists who brought seeds and grafted trees, not for eating out of hand, but for liquid gold: hard cider. In the early days of the Republic, apples were a survival crop, and the “pie” was often a way to preserve fruit or stretch a meager harvest.

As Edge explores in his book, the apple pie we recognize today – sweet, spiced, and encased in a flaky, buttery crust – evolved alongside the nation. Edge masterfully deconstructs the “as American as” mythology, reminding us that while the ingredients may have crossed the ocean, the meaning we attached to them was forged right here. He writes about how the pie became a staple of the American table because it represented the domestic ideal: a symbol of the hearth, the home, and the hardworking hands that transformed raw land into a fruitful garden.

A Journey Through Apple Pie: An American Story

Edge’s book is a travelogue of sorts, taking readers from the high-end bakeries of Manhattan to the roadside stands of the Pacific Northwest. He highlights the regional variations that make the American food landscape so rich. In some parts of the country, a slice of sharp cheddar cheese on top is non-negotiable; in others, a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream is the only acceptable accompaniment.

What makes Edge’s perspective so engaging is his ability to find the human stories behind the flour and fat. He profiles the “pie ladies” of small-town churches and the industrial innovators who brought frozen pies to the masses during the mid-20th century. Through these stories, we see how apple pie served as a bridge between generations. It was a constant through the Great Depression, a comfort during World War II (when soldiers famously claimed they were fighting for “mom and apple pie”), and a centerpiece of the post-war suburban dream.

The Anatomy of the Perfect Slice

If you’re celebrating National Apple Pie Day by baking your own, you’re participating in a ritual that spans centuries. But what makes a “perfect” pie? According to the tradition Edge explores, it’s a balance of three distinct elements:

  1. The Fruit: A mix of textures is key. Using a blend of apples – such as the firm, tart Granny Smith paired with the sweeter, softer Braeburn or Honeycrisp – ensures that the filling has both structure and a complex flavor profile.
  2. The Spice: Cinnamon is the standard-bearer, but a touch of ginger, nutmeg, or even a pinch of cardamom can elevate the fruit’s natural brightness.
  3. The Crust: This is where the true artistry lies. Whether you prefer an all-butter crust for flavor or a shortening-based crust for ultimate flakiness, the goal is a golden-brown vessel that can hold the juices without becoming the dreaded “soggy bottom.”

More Than a Dessert: A Third Place Essential

In our modern world, we often talk about the importance of “third places” – those community spaces outside of home and work where people gather to connect. Historically, the local bakery or the diner counter has served this purpose, and almost invariably, there is an apple pie waiting under a glass dome.

National Apple Pie Day is a reminder of these communal ties. When you share a pie, you aren’t just sharing calories; you’re sharing a piece of a story. John T. Edge’s work reminds us that food is a narrative. Every crimped edge of a crust is a testament to someone’s grandmother, a specific orchard’s harvest, or a regional tradition that refused to die out.

How to Celebrate on May 13

If you want to do justice to the day and to the history John T. Edge has preserved, here are a few ways to celebrate:

  • Host a Pie Tasting: Don’t just settle for one. Buy or bake three different styles – a classic lattice, a Dutch crumble (streusel) top, and perhaps a savory-sweet version with cheese – and discuss the flavor differences with friends.
  • Visit a Local Heritage Orchard: Many orchards have histories dating back over a hundred years. Learning about the specific varieties of apples grown in your region connects you to the soil and the seasons.
  • Pick Up a Copy of Apple Pie: An American Story: Read a chapter while enjoying a slice. Understanding the sociological impact of the food on your plate makes the experience infinitely richer.
  • Support Your Local “Third Place”: Go to a local independent diner or bakery. Order a slice of apple pie and strike up a conversation with the person next to you. It’s the most American way to spend the afternoon.

The Enduring Legacy

As we celebrate this May 13, let’s look at the apple pie for what it truly is: a miracle of migration and adaptation. It is a dish that took the best of what was brought here and mixed it with the grit and sweetness of the American experience.

In the words of John T. Edge, “To eat apple pie is to consume a bit of our shared history.” This National Apple Pie Day, take a moment to savor that history. Whether it’s a warm slice from a cast-iron skillet or a quick bite from a roadside stand, remember that you are partaking in a tradition that is as deep, as layered, and as satisfying as the pie itself. Happy National Apple Pie Day!

Part of a regular series on 27gen, entitled Wednesday Weekly Reader.

During my elementary school years one of the things I looked forward to the most was the delivery of “My Weekly Reader,” a weekly educational magazine designed for children and containing news-based current events.

It became a regular part of my love for reading, and helped develop my curiosity about the world around us.

The Unsung Heroes of the Golden Hour: National Nurses Day 2026

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A Personal Reflection One Year Later

During a 17-day period in late 2024 extending into the second week of  2025, I found myself in a hospital bed at Atrium Hospital Cabarrus, recovering from a perforated ulcer and a subsequent gallbladder surgery. In the quiet moments between the hum of monitors and the soft squeak of rubber soles on linoleum, I realized something profound: while my surgeon was the architect of my recovery, my nurses were the ones who actually built the bridge back to my life.

I wrote then about the “heart and science” of nursing – how they manage the intricate dance of medicine while simultaneously checking if you can handle the stairs at home or if you have enough food in the pantry. That experience stayed with me. So, as we approach May 6, 2026, National Nurses Day, I returned to my local library, looking for the “rest of the story.”

I found it in the pages of ER Nurses by James Patterson and Matt Eversmann. If my previous reading, Sarah DiGregorio’s Taking Care, was a broad lens on the history and sociology of the profession, Patterson’s collection is a high-speed camera, capturing the raw, visceral heartbeat of the emergency room. That long stay mentioned above started in 2 different ERs in two different hospitals, and I’m grateful for the care and speed they moved me from the ER to ambulance to admittance to surgery.

The “Power of Nurses”: A 2026 Mandate

National Nurses Day 2026 marks the beginning of National Nurses Week, culminating on May 12, the birthday of Florence Nightingale. This year’s theme, The Power of Nurses, focuses on how these professionals influence healthcare transformation and policy. But before we talk about policy, we must talk about the people.

In ER Nurses, Patterson and Eversmann step back and let the nurses speak for themselves. These are first-person accounts – “bullet-straight words,” as author Sebastian Junger calls them, from the men and women who inhabit the twilight world between life and death.

Life in the Golden Hour

In the ER, there is a concept known as the “Golden Hour” – the critical window where medical intervention has the highest likelihood of preventing death. For a nurse, this hour is not a rare event; it is the rhythm of their shift.

One of the most striking elements of Patterson’s book is the sheer variety of the stories. You meet nurses in big-city trauma centers dealing with gunshot wounds and multi-car pileups, and you meet flight nurses who stabilize patients in the back of a vibrating helicopter 2,000 feet above the ground.

There is a raw intensity to these accounts. They describe the physical toll: the 12-hour shifts that turn into 14, the aching backs, and the “nursing bladder” (a dark joke among the profession about the rare opportunity to use the restroom). But more importantly, they describe the emotional toll.

One nurse in the book recounts caring for a patient for two months, watching his steady decline, and then having the “deeply upsetting conversations” with his partner about the end of their decades-long partnership. This is the part of the job that isn’t on a chart. It’s the “heart” I mentioned last year – the ability to hold a hand and provide a steady presence when a family’s world is collapsing.

The Reality Behind the “Hero” Label

During the pandemic years of 2020-21, we were quick to label nurses as “heroes.” While the sentiment is well-meaning, Patterson’s book offers a necessary counter-perspective through the voices of the nurses themselves.

Many contributors in ER Nurses express a complicated relationship with the hero narrative. One nurse, Kelsi, notes that while the media focuses on the life-saving adrenaline, the reality of the ER is often “heartburn, seasonal allergies, and ingrown toenails.” More poignantly, another nurse expresses frustration with being called a hero while being “ignored by my organization when I’m hit in the face by a patient, or verbally abused by a disgruntled family member.”

This is a crucial lesson for us as we celebrate National Nurses Day 2026. True appreciation isn’t just a hashtag or a celebratory banner; it’s acknowledging the “brutally hard work” and demanding the fair treatment, mental health support, and working conditions these professionals deserve. The “Power of Nurses” is limited if the nurses themselves are running on empty.

The Science of the Split-Second

While the heart of nursing is found in empathy, the “science” is found in the split-second clinical decisions that happen in the ER. Patterson highlights how an ER nurse must be a “healthcare air traffic controller.”

When a trauma patient arrives, the nurse is the one recognizing subtle patterns – a slight change in pupil dilation, a specific type of pallor, a minute drop in oxygen saturation – that might signal a stroke or internal bleeding before the doctor even enters the room. They are the ones administering blood transfusions, managing complex social dynamics, and ensuring that every member of the surgical team has exactly what they need.

As one nurse in the book puts it: “Doctors figure out where the patient is and where they need to be. Nurses are the ones who actually get you there.”

The Legacy of the Lamp

The symbol of National Nurses Day is the oil lamp, representing the “Lady with the Lamp,” Florence Nightingale, who made her rounds through the dark wards of the Crimean War. In 2026, that lamp has been replaced by the green light of a heart monitor and the high-intensity LEDs of a trauma bay, but the “light” nurses bring remains the same.

In ER Nurses, you read about Tara Cuccinelli and Teneille Taylor – nurses whose stories are so raw and powerful they demand a second reading. They represent the hundreds of thousands of nurses who will clock in today, on May 6, and every day after.

How We Can Celebrate

As readers of 27gen know, I am a firm believer in the concept of the “Wednesday Weekly Reader” – the idea that staying curious and informed about the world makes us better family, neighbors, and humans. This National Nurses Day, I encourage you to do more than just say “thank you.”

  1. Educate Yourself: Pick up a copy of ER Nurses or Sarah DiGregorio’s Taking Care. Understand the complexity of what these professionals do.
  2. Advocate: Support policies that ensure safe patient-to-nurse ratios and mental health resources for healthcare workers.
  3. Listen: If you have a nurse in your life, ask them about their day – the ingrown toenails and the tragedies alike. Sometimes the greatest gift is simply being seen.

To the teams at Atrium Huntersville Emergency Department and Atrium Cabarrus Emergency Department and PSC-3 who cared for me, and to the millions of nurses featured in Patterson’s pages and beyond: your work is the “beating heart” of our society. You see us at our worst, and you give us your best.

Happy National Nurses Day.

Part of a regular series on 27gen, entitled Wednesday Weekly Reader.

During my elementary school years one of the things I looked forward to the most was the delivery of “My Weekly Reader,” a weekly educational magazine designed for children and containing news-based current events.

It became a regular part of my love for reading, and helped develop my curiosity about the world around us.

Riding the Storm of History: Why the “Winter” Is Finally Here

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Have you ever looked at the news and felt a strange, nagging sense of déjà vu – as if the chaos of today is a script we’ve performed before? 

In 1992, when I first picked up Generations, the idea that we could predict a national crisis decades in advance felt like fascinating theory; today, it feels like a survival manual. After a career spent navigating the leadership shifts of media, ministry, and consulting, I’ve realized that understanding these patterns isn’t just about history – it’s about knowing where the ground will shift next. In his latest masterwork, The Fourth Turning Is Here, Neil Howe returns to prove that the “Winter” he and William Strauss famously foretold isn’t just coming – it has officially arrived, and it’s reshaping everything we thought we knew about the American future.

In The Fourth Turning Is Here, Neil Howe revisits the provocative cyclical theory of history he first co-authored thirty years ago, asserting that American history moves in predictable 80- to 100-year cycles. Each cycle consists of four distinct “turnings” that mirror the phases of a long human life, with the final stage – the Fourth Turning – representing a period of intense civic upheaval and national mobilization. Drawing parallels to transformative eras like the American Revolution and World War II, Howe argues that our current period of polarization and global tension is a scheduled crisis that will culminate in a decisive climax by the early 2030s.

This transition marks a period of both extreme peril and immense promise, potentially ushering in a new American golden age depending on how current generations respond. By examining the unique collective personalities of every living generation, Howe explores how different age groups will be shaped by the coming economic and social challenges. Ultimately, the book serves as both a prophecy and a practical guide, urging families and communities to prepare for the profound structural shifts that will redefine the nation over the next decade.

Living Inside the Crisis

If Generations was the map of the historical seasons, The Fourth Turning Is Here is the emergency broadcast for the current one. Howe argues that we are currently deep within a Fourth Turning, a period of “Crisis” that began with the 2008 financial crash and is projected to reach its climax in the early 2030s.

The Anatomy of the Current Crisis

Howe doesn’t just describe the “what”; he explains the “why” behind the institutional decay and social unruliness we see today:

  • The Breakdown of Trust: We have moved from a “High” (post-WWII) where institutions were strong, to an era of “precarity” where public trust in government and media has hit rock bottom.
  • The Polarization Trap: The nation has split into irreconcilable camps, a predictable feature of a Crisis era where society must decide which new values will govern the next century.
  • Economic Entropy: Howe points to widening inequality and massive deficit spending as symptoms of a system that is no longer functioning for the younger generations.

The Engine of Change: Generational Hand-offs

The most compelling part of this summary is how Howe updates his “archetypes” for the 2020s. He argues that history is being driven by four generations currently at their peak influence:

  • The Boomers (Prophets): Now the “Wise Elders,” they are the moralistic leaders who are often blamed for the current friction.
  • Gen X (Nomads): The “pragmatic survivors” who are now stepping into midlife leadership, trying to keep the systems running amidst the chaos.
  • Millennials (Heroes): Rising into their role as the “Civic” generation, tasked with the actual work of rebuilding national institutions.
  • Gen Z (Artists): The sensitive children of the Crisis, being raised under extreme protection and poised to become the consensus-builders of the next “High”.

A Prophecy Realized

Reading The Fourth Turning Is Here in 2026 is a sobering exercise. When Strauss and Howe first laid out this framework in the ’90s, they were often dismissed as “prophets” rather than historians. Yet, seeing their predictions about a “great national challenge” unfold in real-time gives this new book a weight that its predecessor lacked.

The Power of Pattern Recognition

The book’s greatest triumph is its consistency. While most political analysts treat every election or pandemic as a random shock, Howe shows that these events are actually the “winter storms” we should have expected. He argues that societies, like forests, require the occasional fire to clear out the “deadwood” of old institutions so that new growth can begin.

A Roadmap to 2033

What sets this book apart from the 1997 sequel, The Fourth Turning, is its specificity. Howe predicts a “climax and resolution” by approximately 2033. He doesn’t sugarcoat the danger – warning that every Fourth Turning in history has involved a massive mobilization that tests the very survival of the nation – but he offers a powerful dose of hope. He suggests that after the “Winter” comes a “New Golden Age” of prosperity and unity, similar to the 1950s.

Critical Critique: The Data vs. The Drama

Skeptics still point out that the Strauss-Howe theory can sometimes feel like “bold, plausible, but unsubstantiated claims”. They argue that Howe occasionally “dunks” on certain generations – particularly Boomers – to make the narrative fit the cycle. However, even the harshest critics admit that no one else has accurately predicted the timing of the 21st-century’s turbulence with such eerie precision.

The Verdict: Preparation, Not Panic

If Generations was the book that set my career on a new path, The Fourth Turning Is Here is the book that helps me understand the new path I’m on. It is a “tour de force” of historical analysis that shifts the reader’s perspective from fear to preparation.

Howe’s message is clear: the crisis is not an ending; it is a transition. We are living through the birth pangs of a new era. For those of us who have lived through multiple turnings, this book is a reminder that while the season is harsh, spring is a mathematical certainty.

This is essential reading for anyone trying to navigate the next decade. It provides the clarity we need to see beyond the daily headlines and understand the grand rhythm of our lives.

Part of a regular series on 27gen, entitled Wednesday Weekly Reader.

During my elementary school years one of the things I looked forward to the most was the delivery of “My Weekly Reader,” a weekly educational magazine designed for children and containing news-based current events.

It became a regular part of my love for reading, and helped develop my curiosity about the world around us.

A Catalyst for Connection: The Grand Rhythm of History

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Have you ever stumbled across a single sentence that completely rewires the way you see the world?

For me, that moment arrived in 1992 through a book recommendation that felt like a bolt of lightning. At the time, I was knee-deep in associate pastor duties – juggling education, administration, and a massive project I called “168,” which was built on the idea that our impact on the world happens in every one of the 168 hours of the week, not just the few spent inside a church building. I was obsessed with understanding the people I served, and when my post-graduate advisor, Dr. Kennon Callahan, handed me a copy of Generations by William Strauss and Neil Howe, everything clicked. It wasn’t just a history book; it was a roadmap for the human experience.

Looking back over a career that spanned forty-four years of consulting, hospitality, media production, and church leadership, I can see that this book was the seminal inflection point. My educational background was an eclectic mix: a degree in accounting from Tennessee Tech, a Master’s in Religious Education from Southern Seminary, and minors in history that I hadn’t yet fully “awakened”. Whether I was directing daily children’s television programs in Louisville, technical directing large-scale musical productions, leading computer network installations for a 5,000-member congregation, or directing an entire church’s educational programs, I was always trying to bridge the gap between different age groups.

The subtitle of the book alone stopped me in my tracks: “The History of America’s Future, 1584 to 2069”. It spoke to the budding historian in me and provided the framework I needed to lead more effectively. Today, more than thirty years later, those concepts still drive my thinking, writing, research, and the way I live. As I’ve searched through my old files and memories these past few months, I’ve realized just how much this journey began with that one specific catalyst.

If you’ve ever felt like history isn’t just a random sequence of “one thing after another,” but rather a repeating song with a familiar beat, you’re already in sync with William Strauss and Neil Howe. In 1991 (with the paperback hitting the shelves in ’92), these two authors dropped a literal masterwork – a 500-page beast titled Generations: The History of America’s Future, 1584 to 2069.

It wasn’t just a history book. It was a bold, ambitious, and slightly crazy attempt to map the “DNA” of the American spirit. They didn’t just look at kings or presidents; they looked at the collective “peer personality” of people born in the same era. And honestly? They changed the way we talk about ourselves forever. If you’ve ever used the term “Millennial,” you’re using a word they coined in this very book.

The core premise of Generations is that history moves in cycles. Think of it like the four seasons. Just as winter always follows autumn, a certain type of social “mood” always follows another. Strauss and Howe argue that these cycles, which they call Turnings, last about twenty to twenty-two years – roughly the length of a phase of life (childhood, young adulthood, midlife, elderhood).

The Four Turnings

To understand their summary, you have to understand the “weather” of history:

  1. The High (Spring): An era of strong institutions and weak individualism. Society is confident about where it’s going, but conformity is high. (Example: The post-WWII era).
  2. The Awakening (Summer): A period of spiritual exploration and rebellion against the “High.” People start valuing self-expression over institutional logic. (Example: The Consciousness Revolution of the 60s and 70s).
  3. The Unraveling (Autumn): Institutions become weak and distrusted, while individualism is at its peak. Culture feels fragmented and cynical. (Example: The 80s and 90s).
  4. The Crisis (Winter): A decisive era of secular upheaval – a “grim” time where society’s very survival feels at stake. Institutions are rebuilt from the ground up. (Example: The Great Depression and WWII).

The Archetypes: The Players on the Stage

How do these cycles happen? Strauss and Howe argue it’s because of the Generational Archetypes. As one generation ages, it reacts to the one that came before it. There are four recurring “seasonal” types:

  • Prophets (Idealist): Born during a High. They grow up as the pampered children of post-crisis optimism and become the moralistic leaders of an Awakening (think Baby Boomers).
  • Nomads (Reactive): Born during an Awakening. They grow up under-protected while parents are busy with “self-discovery.” They become cynical, pragmatic, and tough (think Gen X).
  • Heroes (Civic): Born during an Unraveling. They are over-protected as children and grow up to be the team-oriented “can-do” fixers of a Crisis (think the GIs or the Millennials).
  • Artists (Adaptive): Born during a Crisis. They are the sensitive, quiet children who grow up to be the refined, consensus-building leaders of a new High (think the Silent Generation or Gen Z).

The authors walk us through over 400 years of history, showing how these archetypes hand off the baton. It’s a rhythmic dance: the Prophet yells about values, the Nomad tries to keep the lights on, the Hero builds a new world, and the Artist polishes the edges.

From 1992 to Today

Reviewing Generations is a unique challenge because the book itself is a series of predictions. Reading it in 2026 feels like looking at a weather report from thirty years ago and realizing the meteorologist actually nailed the storm’s arrival time, even if they didn’t know exactly how many inches of rain would fall.

The 1990s: “Wait, They’re Serious?”

When Generations first arrived, the academic world was skeptical. Professional historians generally hate “grand theories.” They prefer tiny, specific data points. To suggest that history moves in a predictable circle felt more like astrology than sociology.

However, the public – and politicians – were fascinated. Bill Clinton was reportedly a fan. Why? Because the book gave a name to the friction people felt. It explained the “Generation Gap” not as a fluke, but as a biological necessity. The review of the book in ’92 was often: “Brilliant, but perhaps too neat.” Critics felt the authors were “shoehorning” complex events into their four-stage boxes.

The 2000s: The Prophecy Begins to Bite

The real test of Strauss and Howe’s work came with the arrival of the “Millennial” generation. In Generations, they predicted that the next “Hero” archetype would be a group of children who were more team-oriented, more pressured to achieve, and more protected than the cynical Gen Xers before them.

By the mid-2000s, “Helicopter Parenting” became a buzzword. The authors looked like geniuses. Then came their 1997 follow-up, The Fourth Turning, which doubled down on the prediction that a “Great Crisis” would begin around 2005-2008. When the 2008 financial crash hit, followed by intense political polarization, the Strauss-Howe theory moved from the “New Age” shelf to the “Must-Read” shelf for political strategists (including, famously, Steve Bannon).

The 2020s: Living in the “Winter”

Looking back from our current vantage point, Generations feels hauntingly prescient. They predicted that around 2020, America would be in the depths of a “Crisis” era where the very social contract would be rewritten. Whether you point to the global pandemic, the rise of populism, or the restructuring of the global economy, we are undeniably in the “Winter” they described.

The “Hero” generation they championed – the Millennials – are now the primary workforce. Interestingly, the review of their theory today is more nuanced. While their timing was impeccable, critics note that they may have underestimated the impact of technology. The “Nomad” (Gen X) and “Prophet” (Boomer) clash they described has been amplified by social media algorithms in ways the authors couldn’t have imagined in 1992.

The Verdict: Why It Still Matters

Is Generations a perfect history book? No. It’s US-centric, it sometimes glosses over the experiences of marginalized groups to fit a “national” narrative, and its focus on “archetypes” can feel like it robs individuals of their agency.

However, as a tool for understanding the “vibe” of an era, it is unmatched.

The book’s greatest strength is its empathy. It teaches us that the generation we disagree with isn’t “wrong” – they are simply performing the role their historical season requires of them. Boomers aren’t just “stubborn”; they are Prophets trying to protect a moral vision. Gen Xers aren’t just “cynical”; they are Nomads who learned to survive in a world that didn’t look out for them.

Key Takeaways for the Modern Reader

  • History is cyclical, not linear: We aren’t just moving toward a cliff or a utopia; we are moving through a cycle of renewal.
  • Generations are shaped by their “Childhood Mood”: How a society treats its children determines what kind of adults they will become 20 years later.
  • The “Crisis” is an opportunity: Strauss and Howe argue that while the “Winter” (Fourth Turning) is painful, it is the only time society is brave enough to fix its deepest problems.

Generations remains one of the most provocative pieces of social theory ever written. Even if you don’t buy into the “prophecy” of it all, it forces you to look at your own life as part of a much larger, multi-century story. It reminds us that we are all just players in a play that started long before we were born and will continue long after we’re gone.

In a world that feels increasingly chaotic, Strauss and Howe offer the ultimate comfort: This has happened before, and we know how to get through it.

Summary Table: The Generational Cycle

ArchetypeTurning Born InRole in SocietyModern Example
ProphetHigh (Spring)Moralizing, VisionaryBaby Boomers
NomadAwakening (Summer)Pragmatic, SurvivalistGen X
HeroUnraveling (Autumn)Community-building, ActionMillennials
ArtistCrisis (Winter)Diplomatic, Consensus-seekingGen Z

Generations is a “Big Idea” book. It’s dense, it’s arguably over-confident, but it provides a lens of clarity that few other historical works can offer. If you want to understand why 2026 feels the way it does, go back to the source. Read the book that predicted our current “Winter” thirty-four years ago.

Oh, by the way – one of the authors, Neil Howe, updated this work in 2023, thirty years after the publication of Generations. And that’s what we will look at next week!

Part of a regular series on 27gen, entitled Wednesday Weekly Reader.

During my elementary school years one of the things I looked forward to the most was the delivery of “My Weekly Reader,” a weekly educational magazine designed for children and containing news-based current events.

It became a regular part of my love for reading, and helped develop my curiosity about the world around us.

The Quiet Revolutionaries: Why We Honor Librarians Today

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On April 16, 2026, as we observe National Librarian Day, it is time to look past the outdated stereotype of the “shushing” gatekeeper in a cardigan. In an era where information – and misinformation – moves at the speed of light, the modern librarian has become something far more vital: a navigator, a community builder, and a fierce protector of the democratic right to know.

Librarians are the frontline workers of the intellectual world. They manage more than just shelves; they manage the collective memory of our civilization. Whether they are working in a sprawling metropolitan branch, a quiet university archive, or a local rural outpost, these professionals provide the infrastructure for curiosity.

The Modern Library: More Than Just Books

Today’s library is a high-tech hub, a maker space, a job-search center, and a sanctuary. Librarians are now experts in digital literacy, helping patrons navigate complex databases and verify sources in a world of “alternative facts.” They are the ultimate curators, hand-selecting stories that reflect the diverse tapestry of the human experience.

But perhaps most importantly, librarians offer a “third space” – a place that isn’t home and isn’t work, where no one is required to spend money to exist. In this space, the librarian is the host, ensuring that every citizen, regardless of status, has access to the tools of self-improvement.

Behind the Stacks: A Look at “The Secret Lives of Booksellers and Librarians”

To truly understand the heartbeat of this profession, one need look no further than the 2024 release, “The Secret Lives of Booksellers and Librarians” by James Patterson and Matt Eversmann. Known for his high-octane thrillers, Patterson shifts gears here to offer a deeply moving, non-fiction tribute to the people who dedicate their lives to the printed word.

The book is structured as a collection of first-person accounts, a “human library” of sorts. It features dozens of short, punchy stories from across the United States. Rather than a dry history of the profession, Patterson and Eversmann present a mosaic of experiences.

Readers meet librarians who have faced down book bans, those who have helped homeless patrons find housing, and those who have turned their libraries into emergency shelters during natural disasters. It also highlights the “bookseller” side of the coin—the independent shop owners who act as literary matchmakers, keeping the culture of reading alive in an age of algorithms.

A Love Letter to Literary Stewards

What makes this book so effective is its sincerity. Patterson doesn’t treat librarians as curiosities; he treats them as heroes.

  • Humanity Over Heroics: The book shines when it focuses on the small, quiet moments. A librarian finding the “perfect book” for a struggling child is described with the same intensity as a detective solving a case. It captures the emotional weight of the job – the exhaustion, the passion, and the occasional heartbreak of seeing a beloved community space underfunded.
  • The Struggle for Freedom: Several segments address the modern challenges of censorship. The accounts from librarians standing firm against the removal of books are powerful reminders that this profession is often a political one, requiring immense moral courage.
  • Accessibility: Written in Patterson’s signature accessible style, the book is a fast read but lingers in the mind. It manages to be both a celebration and an urgent call to action to support our local institutions.

“The Secret Lives of Booksellers and Librarians” is a essential reading for anyone who has ever found solace between the shelves. It proves that while the medium may change – from scrolls to hardbacks to e-readers—the need for a guide remains constant.

The Librarian’s Legacy

As we celebrate National Librarian Day 2026, we recognize that librarianship is a calling. It is a profession built on the belief that knowledge should be free, accessible, and defended. They are the architects of our childhood wonder and the researchers behind our adult successes. They see us at our most curious and our most vulnerable. Today, we don’t just say “thank you” for the books; we say thank you for the community, the clarity, and the courage.

How to Honor Your Local Librarian Today:

  1. Visit Your Branch: The best way to support a library is to use it. Check out a book, attend a workshop, or use the digital resources.
  2. Write a Thank-You Note: A simple card or email to the library director can go a long way in boosting morale.
  3. Advocate for Funding: Attend local board meetings or support legislation that ensures libraries remain well-funded and independent.
  4. Share a Recommendation: In the spirit of the “bookseller” side of Patterson’s book, share a title that changed your life with someone else today.

Librarians have spent centuries looking out for us. Today, let’s make sure we are looking out for them. Happy National Librarian Day!

Part of a regular series on 27gen, entitled Wednesday Weekly Reader.

During my elementary school years one of the things I looked forward to the most was the delivery of “My Weekly Reader,” a weekly educational magazine designed for children and containing news-based current events.

It became a regular part of my love for reading, and helped develop my curiosity about the world around us.