Becky Tales

I am a firm believer in celebrations. Birthday, anniversaries, graduations, all deserve to be honored. I do not believe in celebrating death, although I am a fan of graveyard art. I don't wax sad and lonely on the anniversary of my grandmother's death. I believe in the remembrance of a well-lived life. Therefore, even though today is the anniversary of a passage-I choose to revel in the well-lived life of Rebecca Ann Lyons. There is insufficient space to relate all of my experiences with Becky. I hope others take time to share their Becky Tales with me.

I met Becky Lyons in 1998. I was a shiny, newly minted and uniformed seasonal ranger at Gettysburg National Military Park. My supervisor, Pam Neil, shared an office with Becky. Honestly, the first time I met Becky I was a tad intimidated. She sat behind a huge desk loaded with books and official-looking papers. Although her eyes seemed friendly, I knew my metal was being measured and at the appointed hour would be tested. I hoped I would not be found wanting. (She later told me people always saw her as tough, but she was really a big marshmallow on the inside.) On Pam's days off, I had permission to use her desk to study and work on my programs. During those days, Becky and I talked about life, the afterlife, and history. Or should I say HISTORY. She had an extensive and expansive background that included medieval history, a field I was at that time considering for my graduate program.

That summer I decided to develop a living history program. I realized many stories were told of the valiant men who fought and died at Gettysburg, but very few stories told of the brave women who shared that history. My program, based on the life of a Daughter of Charity, became the first program at the park to highlight the work of the religious order. Becky was versed in living history, so Pam decided I should work with Becky on my research. Pam found a position at another NPS site, so Becky officially became my supervisor. She tutored me in all things related to developing a solid, believable program. Her standard comment was always: "Word choice is everything. Think before you open your mouth." Becky and I had the opportunity to present our respective programs at Ford's Theatre, in Washington, D.C. What a tremendous honor to tell our stories on that stage. Those presentations led to the organization of the First Women's History Symposium at the park.

Soon, our relationship became a friendship. Becky and I spent time walking the battlefield, eating lunch, and talking. She liked my husband and my children-a great achievement for an unmarried woman who was an only child. We exchanged presents at Christmas and birthdays. She was my friend, mentor, and sister in so many ways. I am a better person, and a much better historian for having known Becky. When I wrote the acknowledgements for my first book, I wrote "Last but not least, I am indebted to Rebecca A. Lyons, my friend and supervisor from Gettysburg National Military Park, who passed before this project was completed. Her guidance, wisdom, and humorous insight regarding the human predicament touched many lives. She will remain a constant reminder that our words and actions matter now, and in the future."