For some reason, I can remember effectively nothing about my life before I was thirteen. However, one memory that is seared into my brain is that of being sick in like seventh grade and of my mom taking me to the Encinitas library where I checked out a biography of Stonewall Jackson with a blue cover and then just devoured it in my room’s semi-light.
And what did I take away from this experience?
Stonewall Jackson enjoyed lemons. Further, he would, for medicinal purposes, rub them all over his body, especially under his arms, to treat the racking pain that made rigorous Protestantism a sensible option.
I hear nowadays that a fair proportion of that is pure, generally-agreed-upon, falsehood, that he enjoyed lemons as much as the next guy, sure, but that is as far as it went. I am choosing to ignore that.
– Count Dolby von Luckner