Dreamers, Doers, and the Stories Yet to Be Told

It’s grant season here at MERF, and though we’ve been busy amidst our internal transitions — welcoming new board members, spearheading fresh committees, and, well, my learning the ropes as the new executive director — we’ve still managed to participate in the time-honored tradition of filling our grant stockings with every variety of statement imaginable (from financials to missions).

While the work MERF does for our community is very public, none of it could be accomplished without the generous contributions of those working behind the scenes. Certainly none of our recent grant work could have been done if not for the incredible dedication of Sarah Wilcox, whose advocacy for our students at Valley Head has given me an unequaled example of the impact we can effect. The stories she has shared have been heartwarming, and the work eye-opening. If you know me personally, then you know this experience has taken me back to something from our community’s past (par for the course for an archivist, even a part-time one). As so much of our work involves providing equal opportunities for our students, I thought it would be beneficial to revisit a bit of history to gain insight into just how far the skills developed in the arts can take a person, serving them well beyond work in just the humanities, as some might imagine.

If you haven’t heard of our “Vagabond Dreamer,” chances are you’ve likely seen the stone church he built in Mentone (the Sallie Howard Memorial Chapel, which is quite literally built around a “rock of ages”). Most, if they have heard of Milford W. Howard, know only of the church he built and not of the incredibly storied life he led — a life that, given its start, might seem unexpected.

Howard was born into poverty in 1862 on a tenant farm near Rome, Georgia. To escape his circumstances, he entertained himself, conjuring up castles from thin air, imagining droves of wild horses to herd, and forging entire worlds to shelter safely within. This penchant for creativity would remain a constant throughout his life and, somehow, his ability to imagine better worlds translated into a mind strong enough to defy quite impossible odds. It would see him learn Shakespeare by a pine-knot blaze at night after a long day’s work; have him study law, despite having only received 11 months of formal schooling; and ultimately ready him to serve in Congress (and create silent films, write books, build a school, and do far more with his life than any could have dreamt).

If you are unfamiliar with this story, I encourage you to read more on this man’s life (truly, the twists and turns were utterly unpredictable). But Howard’s journey tends to stand out not only because of these unexpected turns, but because Americans admire stories of underdogs who alone rise above their hardships, though often their advancement speaks more of luck than of merit alone.

I have often wondered just how many other rich and storied lives have gone uncelebrated simply because a student didn’t receive the same chances as their peers — that whatever spark they may have once held for the arts was snuffed out instead of nurtured. Although we treasure stories like Howard’s, it’s a bit of fantasy to believe everyone can nurture this spark alone without the care of their community. This is why I am grateful for the work done here at MERF, by dedicated people like Sarah, who strive to ensure that each story has a chance to be told and cared for and who understand that what we deprive our children of today is what we deprive ourselves of tomorrow.

Though I’ve only been serving in this role a short time, I have been blown away by the incredible support and care I have witnessed here (so much of that behind the scenes). I hope that, as we continue on past this grant season (and into the next), we will see this inspiring support for our work grow as we invest in the storied lives of tomorrow