I spent a few years in graduate school studying guerrilla warfare. I’m fairly certain that my Amazon used book purchases got me on several government watch lists. I assume you can only buy so many books on the Irish Republican Army, Che, Jesse James, and Ho Chi Minh before someone takes notice. Sorry, Suits. Nothing interesting here, just an aspiring historian and musician.
My advisor always said folks study people in history that better help them understand themselves. That’s a little unnerving when your subjects of study frequently murdered at will and destroyed for pleasure. I focused directly on guerrilla warfare for my own research projects. Growing up in the Ozarks probably caused a predisposition to the topic. There were two major points about guerrilla warfare that always intrigued me.
To wage a successful guerrilla war, all you have to do is keep fighting.
A guerrilla can keep fighting as long as they have a friendly population.
Somewhere along the front range of Colorado it started to click. Like Frank and Jesse James, I would ride into town, make as much noise as possible, and then disappear into the surroundings. Like Mosby’s Rangers in Virginia, I’ve made friends along road who willingly provide safety and shelter. Words can’t express how it feels to have a home away from home in most states that I travel. A shower, a meal, and a couch can give a person a whole new outlook on life. It makes those lonely drives a lot less lonely when I know I’ve got friends at the end of the line.
I enjoyed the extremes of graduate school, but it was taxing damn work. The late nights and ridiculous reading lists didn’t bother me. What I couldn’t stand was the aversion to creativity in the work. When I attempted to describe the countryside and surroundings of my research, I was told those weren’t important details. When it came time to hit “submit” on my PhD program application, I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to. I wanted to do things folks would call me a fool for attempting. I wanted to go see what I could do on my own and I wanted to be challenged to my core. (Sometimes when the money or the sleep just ain’t there, I remind myself that I WANTED this.)
I started writing for Mississippi Jake during my college days. After recording the first Bootleggers album, I dropped a copy off with my advisor. The next day he walked into our meeting and said something along the lines of “We are going to have to keep our eyes on this one or academia is going to lose him to folk music.”
You weren’t wrong, Larry.
-Mississippi Jake