On the Event of Rebecca's Birthday

Today is Rebecca's birthday. Although it has been almost three years since her death, I still feel her presence. I have "What Would Becky Do?" moments when pondering decisions. Sometimes, she gives a nudge, other times; I feel a smile that says, "You're on your own, kid." While she always commiserated with my problems, she always forced me to consider a positive, assertive solution rather than a complacent one.

She was never one to dress up, yet she was extremely feminine. During the time I knew her, I only saw her don make-up twice. Once, for my graduation from York College and the second; our friend Terry's wedding. That day Becky not only wore make-up, but a dress, stockings, and pearls. I still believe her appearance was cause for more conversation Monday morning around the park coffee pot than any other aspect of the event.

Yet, on a personal note, what did Becky bequeath to me? She taught me that while I should be a better historian than any man around, I also needed to have fun. I suppose that is why on our last trip to Disney World I wore my Minnie Mouse hat (the red one with the droopy daisy), on the plane, the shuttle bus at Dulles, and all the way home.

She taught me to modulate my voice during a presentation and to keep my hands at my sides when I wanted to make a point to my audience. She also showed me how to be merciful to thousands of tired, brain-dead, August visitors to Gettysburg. I learned to control my emotions and my tongue while maintaining a professional aura; something that carried over into my later jobs and my life. My offspring still remind me not to use my "ranger voice" with them.

She re-kindled my love of classic literature; especially Louisa May Alcott and Jane Austen. I still have moments when I cry while watching "Little Women." I cry not in sorrow but in victory, knowing how Becky and Bernadette fought to show the movie in the Visitors' Center. Their argument: women lived and struggled during the Civil War, let's remind people of that fact. Let's give young and not-so-young women a chance to learn the other side of History: HerStory.

I also learned life is what you make it. There comes a time when you must take control of your situation and either make changes, or stop whining.


Most importantly, I learned to always keep a red, foam clown nose in my desk drawer for those moments when I or those around me am taking life too seriously. Then you need to laugh.

Thanks, sweetie.

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."