• Question and answer sermon

    This is an edited transcript of the annual question and answer sermon. People in the congregation submitted questions about questions about morals, ethics, theology, or philosophy — or in less academic terms, questions about truth, goodness, meaning, purpose, etc. During the Moment for All Ages, Dr. Kate Sullivan, our Director of Spiritual Exploration, answered questions. During the sermon time, I answered as many questions as I had time for.

    The following transcript from the service was generated from the livestream recording, checked against the audio, then edited for clarity. We did not have time to answer all the questions during the service; the full list of questions follows the transcript.

    Moment for All Ages

    The following questions were answered by Dr. Kate Sullivan. The transcript has been edited for clarity. All responses in this section are copyright (c) 2026 Kate Sullivan.

    Kate: For those of you that don’t know what Jet Pig is — Jet Pig is an actual little stuffed pig with an aviator’s cap on. Jet Pig lives in a box that looks like a plane and was created by Clayton and decorated by all the kids with cool stickers. And if you would like to go visit with JetPig, please feel free at any time.

    So why do we have a thing called Jet Pig, which lives in the Atkinson room? JetPig reminds us of our values. The Unitarian Universalist Association adopted these six values last year.

    Now I might need a little help. Could a couple of kids come up and help me just for a sec?

    We’re talking about Jet Pig. People are like, what’s this Jet Pig thing? We pay attention to how you spell Jet Pig, right? We spell Jet Pig J-E-T-P-I-G. So you know how sometimes you come up with some little rhyme or mnemonic device that helps you remember things. We came up with “Jet Pig” as an instrument to help us remember our values. These kids all know their JetPig values by heart.

    J is for Justice. What comes next? E is for Equity, which is not the same as equality. T is Transformation, right? Our commitment to change and grow.

    P is for Pluralism. What does pluralism mean? Everyone’s different, and that is a good thing. Next is Interdependence, which probably you all know means: What’s happening with you is sort of happening to me. There’s no real independence. We are dependent on all things and all beings and the web of life. G for generosity, which hopefully we all practice at least a little bit every day.

    Tolerance is a virtue. Well, what do you think a virtue is, Dan?

    [Comment interjected by Dan: I don’t know, you’re the one with a PhD in developmental psychology.]

    Kate: A virtue is, in simple terms, a good thing to sort of have in your back pocket that you can use when you need to. And tolerance is a really good thing, and it relates to pluralism and interdependence because it means that we need to learn to be open to other ideas, other ways of thinking and doing in order to create the beautiful, compassionate society that we’re all hoping we find someday.

    I would say you get close. You get face to face with somebody because it’s really, really hard to hate people up close. It’s really easy to do it online. But I’d say that you sit and you take some deep breaths and you try really, really hard to be tolerant of that other person’s perspective or experience, family experience, or just ways they live that you don’t. I mean, you have to work at understanding other people’s bodies and who they are and why they are. I’d say you get up close.

    That’s the money question. I have absolutely no idea, but I think for me, anyway, little practices help. In fact, Chad and I were just talking this morning about doomscrolling and how easy it is to be swept away by negativity when you’re looking at your phone and something pops up. So restricting the stuff that really negatively impacts you I think is one way to stay hopeful.

    Then I think you just have to put yourself in the way of beauty, and of joyful people and real things. I mean, that’s what works.

    And a dog, okay? If you have a pet — a pet is like the super highway to joy. It releases oxytocin, which is our love-and-feel-good hormone. So I would say pets first, and then maybe people second. [Laughter]

    I think there’s tons of evidence that to expose kids to social media of any kind too soon — and by too soon, I mean when they’re developmentally young, before seven, eight, nine years old. You’ve got to really be on it, which is very, very hard. It’s not great, right?

    If children are scrolling, they’re not doing. And what kids need to do is learn, and kids learn by doing. You know, they’re not little empty faces that we fill with our stuff. They have to co-create their understanding of the world.

    So any limit to social media is good. And if you need it because you’re in a restaurant and kids melt down, then something like Sesame Street or Bluey — anything that helps them understand social relationships, or how to match colors, or those kinds of things.

    But I think it’s really good to restrict social media. Social media is a gift and a burden for all of us adults. It’s awesome and awful all at the same time. Everybody complains about AI, for example, but I think the onus is always on us to figure out what’s helpful and what’s hurtful and to eliminate the things that are not healthy for you, that do not make you feel good. Right? If they don’t make your soul sing, just forget about it.

    Sermon

    The following questions were answered by Rev. Dan Harper. The transcript has been edited for clarity. All responses in this section are copyright (c) 2026 Dan Harper.

    I’ve heard this quote many times, and I have to say I just don’t agree with it. For all of you who are not geeks, this is actually a well-known quote. I started out my college career as a physics major, but I’m essentially a lazy person. I dropped physics because when we got to electromagnetism optics and waves, I had to do math that took more time than I was willing to do. I mean, it was really that simple. I was lazy. So I switched to philosophy because I felt that philosophy and theoretical physics were asking exactly the same questions.

    Then, partway into my philosophy career, I had to take a course in logic, so I took an introduction to mathematical logic — And this answer is going to be for geeks; if you’re not a geek, this is going to be boring, I’m sorry; but I know a geek asked this question.

    I took a class in introduction to mathematical logic, and the whole purpose of the class was to run through Kurt Gödel’s proof of the unprovability theorem. And it was just like my mind exploded. To my mind, Kurt Gödel was doing religion. In fact, recently I did a deep dive into Gödel’s life, and he really was doing religion. He was doing religion and philosophy and mathematics, and it’s all kind of mushed together in his work. So I don’t see a strict division.

    Thus, I think Alan Turing’s wrong. I think he was also wrong with the Turing test, but we’ll leave it at that. And if none of that makes sense, who are the geeks in here? [Some people raise their hands.] Just ask one of the geeks, and they’ll explain it all to you.

    And the answer is, of course you can. It is your life and it is your choice to do with what you will. However, when you look at the scale of things, compared to the universe, we are tiny. But compared to a virus, we are quite large. And compared to an electron or a quark, we’re actually quite, quite large. So I’m not sure that talking about the scale of things gives us license to sit on the couch and watch TV all day. Of course, it depends on the TV program.

    I want to think about this more. I think this is going to turn into a sermon.

    Okay, so we’re all laughing, but if you think about who was in charge of the government in the time of Jesus, who quoted “love your neighbors” out of the Hebrew Scriptures, they were less lovable than our government. The Roman Empire was pretty horrible and extremely violent. We think: “Oh, it’s bad, we’re bombing Iran.” The Roman emperors would have been like: “Yes, that is what you’re supposed to do — and more.” They were worse. So if Jesus could say “love your neighbors” —

    Then think back to the time of the ancient Israelites, which is where that “love your neighbor” really comes from. That was also a violent time with lots of corruption. And really, outside of the ancient Israelites, almost no one had a sense of morals and morality that would apply to everybody; this was a huge innovation the ancient Israelites made.

    If the ancient Israelites could say, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” then that gives us something to think about when our time is so much better. Again, this is going to become another sermon topic. I’ll leave it at that for now.

    So much of what’s going on in the world is in direct opposition to our beliefs as Unitarian Universalists. This question actually came up at the potluck last night. We were talking about this and somebody made a similar point. And in fact, they said to me, why don’t I talk more about current events? And I said, well, first of all, the Johnson Amendment says that we ministers and clergy shall not take partisan positions from the pulpit. If I do, then this organization could lose its tax exempt 501(c)3 status. We all know about the Johnson Amendment.

    Yet almost anything that you talk about in terms of ethics and morality these days — well, Republicans will interpret it as being partisan, and people who are diehard Democrats will interpret it as being partisan. It is extremely challenging to talk about anything without people assuming that you’re taking a partisan position, even when you’re not.

    To get back to the question, which I’ll rephrase as — How do you, Dan, address current events while being sensitive to people’s different opinions?

    The first thing I do is say is that I am a proudly registered independent. I am not a Democrat. I am not a Republican. That should say to everybody: If you’re going to interpret this in partisan terms, you’re wrong. That’s the first thing I do.

    I think that is actually good for all of us to do. Even if you’re registered as a Democrat or a Republican, when you’re expressing an opinion, I think it is very wise to say, “I am not taking the Democratic Party line. I am not taking the Republican Party line. I am expressing my own opinion.” Then you can go further and say, “And I want to hear your opinion.”

    I think that’s the way that we all have to address current events in the current climate. Here again, this could be another long sermon. This is like maybe five sermons. And I have to say this is great — because right now I’m planning out sermons for next year, and I realized I had no idea what I wanted to talk about. Your questions are giving me sermon topics for the coming year.

    Well, with all these great questions, I’m really hopeful about next year’s sermons. [Laughter]

    But seriously, how do you remain hopeful? You remain hopeful by remaining in community with other human beings. We are tribal animals. I think one of the psychological reasons — and I want to ask Dr. Kate about this because she has clinical experience and is a developmental psychologist — I think one of the reasons that we’re feeling hopeless is because we are so locked into social media.

    Social media, in spite of its name, is not social. You are interacting with a device. It may feel like you’re interacting with people, but you’re not. Because while real humans enter content into social media (although increasingly, it’s AI content is taking over social media), then that content is filtered through an algorithm that is designed to reinforce your attention-seeking on that social media platform. We all know this, right?

    This means that social media is not social. It’s psychologically designed to keep you anxious. Because if you’re anxious, you will remain engaged with the social media platform. We all know that, right?

    So how do you remain hopeful? Well, social media makes me feel hopeless. I can feel my heart rate go up. Social media is not working to make me feel hopeful.

    Direct face-to-face interaction is what we need. Ben was absolutely right. [Ben had spoken earlier in the service about how much he had enjoyed the church potluck the night before.] You should all come to the church potlucks. I had more good conversations last night than I had all week, because it’s hard to find face-to-face interaction these days. For example, if you’re parents with kids, you’re taking kids to sports games, you don’t get to talk. You’re talking about the game. You’re not actually engaging.

    Last night, one of the people running for select board came just because she’s interested in First Parish. And we all had a great conversation. We could actually — instead of going to the Cohasset 143 Facebook group, that Facebook site, which is so horrible — we could actually have an open conversation.

    I think more face-to-face interaction is key. That’s how you would be hopeful. Again, another sermon series could come from this one question.

    I don’t have an answer to this question. I mean, there it is.

    I suppose we could go back to evolution. Pain evolved for a very specific reason. Pain, if something hurts you, you go away from it and it helps you survive, right? But sadness? Where does that lie in evolutionary biology? I don’t know. Still, you could say it’s just evolutionary biology.

    Nietzsche said — and as soon as I said “Nietzsche said,” well, don’t trust anything Friedrich Nietzsche says. For a whole bunch of reasons, but partly because he was writing polemics and not reasoned philosophy, which means he’s trying to annoy you. In any case, it was Nietzsche who said, “Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

    That’s wrong.

    I can tell you, as a minister for mumbly-mumble years, if it doesn’t kill you — it can weaken you, or it can strengthen you, one or the other. And what Nietzsche said, he was saying that to deliberately provoke you to say: “That doesn’t feel right.”

    Now people repeat that: “Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” I’ve heard people say that when I’m talking to families planning a memorial service. “Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” And if they want to believe that in the moment, if that’s what gives them strength, then go right ahead and believe it. But inside I’m thinking, “Nope, nope.” I’ve seen people whose spouse dies, two years later that person dies. Their sadness did not strengthen them, it did them damage. And I’ve seen other people whose spouses died who were able to not give in to the pain, to acknowledge the pain, to move beyond it and survive.

    In short, pain and sadness are complicated, super complicated.

    I think about my father. We learned late in his life that he had had a heart attack in his mid-seventies, and he didn’t even know it because he was a full-time caregiver to my mother; she was in pretty bad shape at that point. After she died, he had a rough couple of years. And then he came out of it, started dating again. That’s an example showing that sometimes you can work through the pain and sadness. But it is complicated.

    I wish Kate were still here because I’m not as aware of what the kids were responding to this year. I know a little bit about what the kids are thinking because I help out with our Ecojustice Camp, and with our OWL program. I know we’re all worried about the environment, and what’s going on in the world. I know the kids respond to honest conversation about what’s going on, and what we can do.

    This year, what really stood out for me in the sermons was something that didn’t come up in last year’s question-and-answer service. I decided to give a sermon about the ethics of AI in education. And I think I got more response from that sermon than from any other sermon I’ve preached in my whole life. So I think we’ll be talking more about AI next year, because it’s a huge topic for all of us. And it’s not simple. It’s not straightforward at all.

    My eyes are bad. I’m not sure I read this right. Coffee?

    [Comment from the congregation: “I think it might be, ‘How do I get comfy.’”]

    Well, I think we should have coffee. Because that’s how I get through a lot of stuff — I get some caffeine in me. [Laughter.]

    This goes back to the social media thing, right? How do you do this? How do you smile with delight? Not with social media. You’ve got to talk with other people. You’ve got to have that face-to-face interaction. Because if you sit at home and stew about these things, it’s not good for you.

    I’ll give you an example. People say, “Oh my goodness, it’s so much worse now than it was X number of years ago.” Well, I’m an old guy now; I’m on Medicare, so I’m officially old. But I remember back in 1979, I was sitting in a philosophy seminar, and somebody was saying, “Blah blah blah, hopeful hopeful hopeful, rainbows and unicorns.”

    I said: “There are nuclear weapons enough in the world to kill us all, and they probably will.” Because that’s what we were worried about then.

    That was the end of that conversation. The professor immediately moved on to another topic.

    And I realized that actually, you have to go the hopeful place sometimes. People don’t want to talk about the nihilism, the hopelessness. Because if you do, you shut everything down.

    So that’s what I learned as a philosophy major. Yes, if you want to just shut everything down and stop all conversation, just go straight to that nihilism place.

    But you’re probably better off saying — as the great philosopher Hans-Georg Gadamer said — {There’s about this much hope” [holding up thumb and forefinger about an inch apart]. It’s not much. But at least there’s some hope.

    Again, this is enough for another sermon.

    I have a young cousin who’s currently pursuing her master’s degree in gender studies at San Francisco State University. (Saba’s an amazing young woman, I like bragging about her.) What Saba is currently doing — and this is going to get into academic geekiness — she is very opposed to the postmodernism that currently permeates academia.

    Postmodernism says there is no grand narrative, there is no absolute truth, everything is relative. Everything is kind of what you make up. And right now, people on both the political right and the political left are fully engaged in postmodernism. They’re both saying there is no absolute truth. Whatever we say is true, is true. This is why you can have fake news, because under postmodernism, I get to decide.

    So here’s Saba studying gender studies, and she’s saying, ”No, no, post-modernism has got to go away.”

    And this relates to us because Unitarian Universalism is based on Enlightenment values. If you’re a philosophy geek, like I am, there’s currently a re-evaluation of Immanuel Kant. Kant and the other Enlightenment thinkers were saying: Individual humans have a real value. People have a value. This is the big change that happens in the Enlightenment.

    This means that A—— [pointing to someone in the congregation], you have value for who you are. Donald Trump, you have value for who you are as a human being. I may not like everything that everybody does, but there is value even in those human beings who do things I don’t like.

    Postmodernism comes along and says, We’re going to do away with Enlightenment thinking. And all of a sudden, the basis of human rights disappears. The basis of human rights is this Enlightenment thinking, that every human being is valued.

    By doing away with Enlightenment thinking, postmodernism is doing away with the grounding for human rights. It’s doing away with the grounding for our concept of justice. I think we have to go back to some form of Enlightenment thinking. And okay, yes, that’s another sermon series — but I do think we have to find some way to go back to those Enlightenment values.

    And we Unitarian Universalists have gone a little too far in the direction of postmodernism, too. We’re like: “Well, what we say is right.” As if that’s all that counts. We shouldn’t do that.

    All this also means, once again, we need face-to-face interaction. Because the only way you find out truth is through a group effort. That’s what science does. (It’s what science is supposed to do; maybe it’s not always doing it right now.) Science is supposed to say we find truth as a group effort. When it comes to truth, you don’t get to just make it up all by yourself.

    It’s getting to be time to end this service. This next question is a good one to end on.

    I have to tell you, I hate ticks so much. I cannot tell you how much. You folks know what permethrin is, right? It’s that stuff you spray on your clothes and when ticks land on the permethrin, they die. And I want them to die. [Laughter]

    At the same time, my favorite mammals are opossums. They’re so cool. They’re marsupials. They’re our only North American marsupial. How can you not love opossums?

    Opossums love to eat ticks. If it’s my favorite animal’s favorite food, I guess there must be something good about ticks. But…yeah, I guess that’s going to be yet another sermon.

    I didn’t even get to half of your questions. Thank you all for these great questions. I now have a year’s worth of sermons, thanks to your great questions.


    The full list of questions:

  • One Thing

    Sermon copyright (c) 2026 Dan Harper. As delivered to First Parish in Cohasset. The text below has not been proofread. The sermon as delivered contained substantial improvisation.

    Readings

    The first reading was the poem “Global Warming Blues” by Mariahadessa Ekere Tallie. You can hear the poet reading this poem on Youtube.

    The second reading was the poem “look at the blackbird fall” by June Jordan. This poem is available in the anthology Black Nature: Four Centuries of African American Nature Poetry, edited by Camille T. Dungy (Univ. of Georgia Press, 2009), or in Directed by Desire: The Collected Poems of June Jordan (Copper Canyon Press, 2012).

    The third reading is usually attributed to Unitarian minister and novelist Edward Everett Hale.
    I am only one
    But still I am one.
    I cannot do everything,
    But still I can do something,
    And because I cannot do everything
    I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.

    Sermon

    Right at the beginning, I should tell you that this sermon got the wrong title. I called it “One Thing,” but as you will see, a better title would have been “Ten Times One Is Ten.” I should also tell you, right up front, that while it might seem a little depressing at the beginning, this will wind up being a positive sermon.

    For the past twenty years, one of my sidelines has been doing environmental education with children and adults. Not that I’m trained in environmental education or biology, but I’ve been fortunate enough to work with, and learn from, biologists and environmental educators. The reason I wound up doing environmental education even though I wasn’t trained in it, was because I could see that humanity faces numerous ecological challenges of our own making, challenges which have prompted spiritual questioning and even spiritual crises in quite a few people.

    Let me give an example of a spiritual crisis prompted by ecological challenges. Ten years ago, I was one of the people leading a week-long ecology day camp for grades 2 through 8. We gave kids lots of opportunities to play outdoors and explore the natural world, and we even did a little citizen science with them. We also talked openly about the environmental challenges that humanity faces; we didn’t emphasize them, but we were honest with kids that humanity faced some big problems. In fact, the kids were relieved that we adults were willing to talk openly about those big problems. Children and teens are quite aware of the world’s environmental problems, but sometimes adults don’t want to talk with kids about such serious and discouraging topics.

    Toward the end of the week-long camp, while we were out walking somewhere, one of the seventh graders said to me, with a little bit of fear in her voice, “Are we going to be all right?” There were a couple of levels of meaning contained in this seemingly simple question. At an abstract level, she wanted to know if humanity was going to survive the various ecological crises we’re facing. Then at a personal level, she also wanted to know what their life was going to be like, and over the course of their life how they navigate the problems raised by global climate change, toxics in the environment, and so on. And at a spiritual level, she was facing a crisis of meaning — would she survive?

    My reply to that seventh grader was pretty much what you’d expect. I said that humanity had faced big challenges in the past, and somehow managed to come out all right. I said that in spite of the big problems we faced, I felt humanity was capable of solving those problems. In short, I tried to tell her things that would give her hope for the future.

    This exchange helped me understand the roots of the spiritual crisis many kids — and many adults — experience as we contemplate ecological problems. When we contemplate ecological problems, we wind up confronting several spiritual questions. We wind up confronting the nature of humanity — Is there some evil in humanity, some basic flaw, that has prompted us to do so much damage to other living things? Is there enough good in us to overcome the bad, so that we can solve our ecological problems? Then we wind up confronting the purpose of existence — Is it true, as some conservative Christians tell us, that the only purpose of this life is to prepare us for an afterlife? Is there some deity, or some force in the universe, that will be angered by the damage we’re doing to other living beings? And we also wind up confronting some old stories that have been told in Western culture for thousands of years, stories about how there will be an end time filled with disasters. Are those old stories true? — and before the skeptics among us say, “No of course they’re not true” — I would remind you that old stories like that can shape your behavior at an unconscious level, even if you doubt them at a conscious level. And whether or not those old stories are true, are they maybe affecting our behavior in ways that we don’t like, and maybe we want to retell those old stories so that we behave in ways we do like?

    All these are spiritual questions. They are questions that cannot be answered scientifically or logically, because they are feeling questions. Ultimately, these spiritual questions boil down to whether we feel a sense of hope for the future.

    Getting back to that seventh grader — she was more or less satisfied with the answer I gave her, but I wasn’t. I knew I had only given her a scientific and logical answer to her spiritual question, which meant that I didn’t really address her spiritual concerns. How could we address those very real spiritual questions that those kids had? After talking it over with all the adults who were running that day camp, here’s what we came up with….

    First, we decided that we needed to be more explicit about the ecological problems facing humanity. By not being specific, we made it feel as though ecological problems were huge and amorphous and beyond the capability of any one person to tackle — and when you feel powerless to address something, that can prompt a spiritual crisis. I had heard a talk given by Dr. Stuart Weiss, a Stanford-trained biologist who ran an environmental remediation company. Weiss listed five major threats to earth’s life supporting systems:

    One: Global climate change. Two: Invasive organisms, non-native plants and animals that outcompete native organisms. Three: “Toxication,” or pollution from solid wastes like microplastics, to chemical wastes like PFAS. Four: Deforestation and other land use changes that now affect three quarters of the Earth’s land area. Five: Overpopulation by humans.

    I use the acronym DOGIT to remember these — Deforestation, Overpopulation, Global climate change, Invasive species, and Toxication. Other biologists have come up with similar lists with different acronyms. The biologist E. O. Wilson used the acronym HIPPO, which stands for Habitat loss, Invasive species, Pollution, human Population, and Overharvesting. Use whatever list or acronym you prefer — the point is to get more specific about the challenges facing us.

    At the day camp, we told the campers about Stuart Weiss’s list of five major environmental challenges. Then we told them that they do not have to solve all of these challenges. All they have to do is choose one of them on which they wanted to focus their efforts. We also gave them stories about role models, people whom they could emulate who had taken on one of these big environmental challenges. So, for example, we told them about Wangari Maathai, who won the Nobel Peace Prize for starting the Green Belt Movement to help reverse deforestation in Kenya. We told them about Rachel Carson, who brought public awareness to the damage that chemical pesticides were doing to the environment. As we talked about Wangari Maathai and Rachel Carson and others, we would make it clear how each one of these people focused their efforts into straightforward and achievable projects. Wangari Maathai didn’t try to solve land use problems everywhere the world, she focused on addressing deforestation in Kenya where she lived. Rachel Carson didn’t try to tackle every kind of pollution, she focused on what she knew best, pesticides like DDT. In addition, for each one of our role models, we made sure the kids understood that these people did not work alone, but rather they worked with others to bring about positive change.

    One of the ways we reinforced this was by reciting the following short poem:

    I am only one
    But still I am one.
    I cannot do everything,
    But still I can do something,
    And because I cannot do everything
    I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.

    When talking with kids, I usually attribute this poem to Unitarian minister and novelist Edward Everett Hale even though it probably wasn’t written by him. I like to attribute it to Hale because it captures the spirit of what he believed. One of Hale’s most famous novels was titled Ten Times One Is Ten. The novel begins just after the funeral of Harry Wadsworth. Ten people who had all known Wadsworth, but who had never met before, wind up telling each other stories of the good things Harry Wadsworth had done for each of them. For it turned out that Harry Wadsworth was one of those people who quietly went around doing good things for other people. Not that the good things he did were anything extraordinary — everything he did was something any one of us could have done — but he went ahead and did them, whereas all too often the rest of us don’t.

    As they sat around listening to each other’s stories of Harry Wadsworth’s good deeds, these ten people became inspired by his actions, and they wanted to continue his legacy. They wanted to form a club to carry on his legacy, but because they lived all across the country, they couldn’t have a conventional club with bylaws and meetings and so on. Instead, they decided that each of one of them would go out and do something good in the world; then they would report what they had done to the others. And, to better capture the spirit of Harry Wadsworth, they adopted the following mottos:

    “To look up and not down,
    To look forward and not back,
    To look out and not in,—
    and
    To lend a hand.”

    Since there were ten of them whose lives had been touched by Harry Wadsworth, they set themselves the goal of each touching the lives of ten more people. Now you begin to understand why the book is titled Ten Times One Is Ten. Each of those people did something good that touched the lives of ten more people, so that ten times ten becomes a hundred. Then those hundred people went on and did things to touch the lives of ten more people, until before long it ten times a million became ten million. And the good work spread from person to person, until at last the club realized that they had reached a thousand million people (ten times a hundred million is a thousand million) — which at the time the book was written, in the late nineteenth century, was the entire population of the world. As the narrator of the novel puts it: “When ten million people have determined that the right thing shall come to pass in this world, having good on their side, they will always be found to have their own way.”

    “Ten Times One Is Ten” became a bestselling novel in the late nineteenth century. The novel proved so popular that it spawned a real-world movement of “Lend-a-Hand” clubs across the United States, devoted to making the world a better place. (These nineteenth century clubs have mostly disappeared, although when I worked at the Unitarian church in Lexington twenty-five years ago they still had a Lend-a-Hand Club, and there is still a Lend-a-Hand organization in Boston.) And you can see how the Lend-a-Hand club concept sounds like that poem attributed to Edward Everett Hale:

    I am only one
    But still I am one.
    I cannot do everything,
    But still I can do something,
    And because I cannot do everything
    I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.

    So even if Edward Everett Hale didn’t actually write this little poem, the anonymous author captured one of Hale’s most important teachings in a memorable form. Furthermore, Edward Everett Hale would go on to say, though you may be only one — ten times one is ten.

    Regardless of who actually wrote that poem, we taught it to the kids in the day camp. I wish we had also thought to teach them the motto of the club in Hale’s novel:

    Look up and not down,
    Look forward and not back,
    Look out and not in, and
    Lend a hand.

    Yet even though we didn’t teach them those exact words, we taught them that sentiment. Look up for solutions rather than getting pulled down by the problems. Look forward to the future rather than always looking back at the past. Don’t get trapped inside yourself, but look outwards to other people, for there is where you’ll find hope. And finally, of course — Lend a hand where you can.

    This is not to say that we ignored the very real phenomenon of “eco-grief.” “Eco-grief” is a term that I learned from a professor of environmental biology; she uses that term to describe the feelings of her college freshmen students when they realized the true magnitude of the environmental problems we face today. Eco-grief is a real phenomenon; most of us have some feelings of eco-grief. We should not dismiss eco-grief, but if we get trapped in our inward feelings of eco-grief, then nothing will change for the better. Go ahead and look in on your feelings of eco-grief, but remember to then turn and look out, and lend a hand.

    I’m making this sound like while we were running that ecology day camp, we considered all these matters ahead of time, and then implemented a carefully constructed curriculum to help kids maintain a positive attitude, so that they weren’t overwhelmed by eco-grief, so they could go out and change the world. Actually, what happened is that we made it up as we went along. We watched how the campers responded (and, if I’m honest, we watched how we adults responded), and then made adjustments on the fly. This took us several years.

    We knew we had succeeded by watching the campers. We got to a point where they didn’t have to ask us if things were going to be OK, because they already knew how they could contribute to make things better; that is, they were looking forward, and not back. I’ll tell you about two of our very obvious successes. One girl, who started out as a camper and went on to become a junior counselor, told us one year that she could not return to camp again because she had gotten a summer internship in local government working on environmental issues. Another girl who had been a camper then a junior counselor and was about to enter her senior year of high school, announced that she was applying to college programs in environmental science. We had other successes that weren’t as obvious, although they were just as successful. There was the camper who planned to become a high school history teacher, and who wanted to teach his students some of the history of environmental problems. There were the many campers who learned to love and enjoy the outdoors, and we knew they would grow up to become voters for whom environmental protection would be a priority.

    Our successes with these kids grew out of the basic principle that you do not have to solve all the environmental problems by yourself. Do the one thing that you can do, no matter how small. When you do that, see if you can touch the lives of other people. When you touch the lives of others, perhaps you will inspire them in turn to do just one thing to address our environmental challenges.

    This basic principle works for kids, and it works equally well for adults. We can begin by reminding ourselves that it is not up to us to solve all the world’s problems as isolated, solitary individuals. One person can’t do everything. But each one of us can do one thing to make the environment a little bit better. We can focus our efforts even more, to make it seem less overwhelming. We can each pick just one of the five major environmental challenges. Remember the acronym DOGIT — Deforestation, Overpopulation, Global climate change, Invasive species, Toxication. You are only one person, so you only have to concern yourself with one environmental challenge at a time. And for the one challenge with which you choose to concern yourself, you only have to do your part. If you choose to address deforestation, you could support your local land trust to protect natural habitats. If you choose overpopulation, you could support Planned Parenthood in teaching people about contraceptive choices to help reduce unwanted births. If you choose global climate change, you could help local governments in supporting renewable energy infrastructure. If you choose toxication, you could pick up trash whenever you go for a walk. Or if you choose invasive species, you could help remove invasive garlic mustard plants.

    All you have to do is one thing. And it can be a small thing. But when you do that one thing, see if you can touch the lives of others. See if you can bring joy and happiness to other people, helping them feel better about the world. Just as in Edward Everett Hale’s novel, if your one effort inspires ten others, then ten times one is ten; ten times ten is a hundred; ten times a hundred is a thousand; and so on until we reach eight billion people.

    I know this sounds hopelessly idealistic. I know it sounds like pie in the sky. But from my experience with that ecology summer camp, I’ve seen how eminently practical it can be. It is practical because when we inspire each other, we give each other hope. And when we give each other hope, we free ourselves — and we free our children and grandchildren — to make the world a better place….

    Look up and not down,
    Look forward and not back,
    Look out and not in, and
    Lend a hand.

  • Three Cohasset Patriots

    Sermon copyright (c) 2026 Dan Harper. As delivered to First Parish in Cohasset. The text below has not been proofread. The sermon as delivered contained substantial improvisation.

    Readings

    The first reading is from “A Narrative History of Cohasset,” written in 1898 by Victor Bigelow:

    The second reading is from the poem “Concord Hymn,” written by Ralph Waldo Emerson in 1837 to commemorate the Battle of Concord.

    Sermon

    It’s Patriot’s Day, that obscure Massachusetts holiday when the Red Sox play a home game, the Boston Marathon is run, and sometimes we get an extra day to file our taxes. But of course the real purpose of Patriot’s Day is to allow us to commemorate the start of the American Revolution, right here in our state on April 19, 1775. In honor of Patriot’s Day, I’d like to tell you stories of three Revolutionary War heroes and heroines, all of whom were part of our congregation. These are stories of how ordinary people lived through unbelievably hard times: hostile war ships right off the coast of Cohasset; men going away to war and never being heard of again; food shortages and not enough people to work the fields. And one of the questions that I’ll ask, but won’t be able to fully answer, is how the people in those days found the resilience and courage to survive hard times.

    Persis Tower Lincoln Hall

    I’ll begin with Persis Tower, the daughter of Daniel Tower and Bethia Nichols. Her family was firmly aligned with the Patriot cause. When Persis was 14 years old, her older brother Abraham took part in the Boston Tea Party. She was 15 years old at the time of the Battle of Concord and Lexington, and seven months later, at age 16, she married 20-year-old Allen Lincoln, a seaman, who was soon to go off to battle.(1)

    Allen served at least three times with the Continental forces. He did at least one stint with the local militia, defending our coast. He served in the Continental Army for three months in 1777, serving in the New York and New Jersey area.(2) And he served as a sailor, perhaps aboard a privateer; indeed, he may have been at sea much of the time during the early years of the Revolution. Many men in Cohasset went away for military service during the war, leaving Cohasset women to take on their work. Persis’s mother Bethia had the nickname “Resolution” Tower, because she was “said to have carted water in barrels from Lily Pond to water the corn [on the farm on King Street.] during a drought while the men were away in the Revolutionary War.” For her part, Persis bravely sailed a small boat through the British blockade across Massachusetts Bay to get much-needed supplies. Because of this, we remember her as a heroine of the American Revolution.(3)

    In March, 1778, while Persis was pregnant their first child, Allen was one of several seamen imprisoned by the British in Rhode Island. Allen never came home again, and there appears no record of when or where he died. When Sally, Persis and Allen’s daughter, was christened in our meetinghouse on October 18, 1778, Persis wouldn’t have known where Allen was, or whether he was alive or dead. It wasn’t until 1782 that Persis could finally settle her husband’s estate.(4)

    Allen Lincoln’s story is a reminder what prisoners of war faced during the Revolution. The total death toll among prisoners of war held by the British may have been as high as 19,000 men.(5) Persis probably never knew the exact fate of her husband, and I find it difficult to imagine the uncertainty she had to live with — raising an infant child while not knowing where her husband was.

    In 1786, Persis married James Hall, who had been a captain in the Continental Army, even serving as an aide to General Washington. Persis and James lived in the house that his father had built on Cohasset Common using timbers of the old meetinghouse, which was taken down when our present meetinghouse was erected in 1747. Three of their children died in infancy, but they received a bigger shock when their oldest child, Henry, died at age sixteen; he had gone to sea and died of yellow fever in the West Indies. Persis and James hadn’t bothered christening four of Henry’s younger siblings, but within weeks of hearing of his death, they had those four siblings christened all on the same day.(6) After all Persis had been through — Allen’s disappearance, the loss of children in infancy, Henry’s death far from home — perhaps the religious ritual of christening served as a reminder that there was hope for the future.

    Briton Nichols

    The next Revolutionary War story I’d like to tell you is the story of Briton Nichols. I told his story in a previous sermon, but I got some facts wrong, and found out some new facts, so I thought I’d tell it again.(7)

    Briton Nichols first appears in the historical record when he was 17 years old, and listed as a slave in the 1757 will of Nathaniel Nichols, Sr. The next time he appears in the historical record is on March 16, 1776, when he was thirty-seven. This was the day before the British evacuated Boston; Cohasset and other coastal towns were securing their coastal defenses against the possibility of a British naval attack. Briton served for a few days with the Hingham town militia, one of many men from Cohasset, Hingham, and Hull who helped defend the coast.

    A year later, in 1777, Briton enlisted in the Continental Army. We can only speculate why he decided to enlist at age 37. Although enslaved men would join the military to earn their freedom, Nichols was probably free by this time. The economy was in a shambles due to the war, he probably had a wife, and he might have enlisted because he needed money. He also may have believed in the Patriot ideals of freedom and liberty. Whatever his reasons, he and a contingent of soldiers from Cohasset marched together to join the fighting in Saratoga, New York.

    Ambrose Bates, one of Briton’s messmates, kept a diary during their military service. The Cohasset men reached Saratoga in early September and joined the fight against General Burgoyne. The Bates diary shows that much of their military service was filled with boredom. Several days were filled with monotonous marching back and forth from one place to another. Many days, Bates simply records, “Nothing new today.” Days of boredom were interspersed with days with more than enough excitement. On October 7 Bates recorded: “today we had a fight we were alarmed about noon and the fight begun, the sun two hours high at night and we drove them and took field pieces and took sum prisoners.” The British finally surrendered on October 16. All the Cohasset men then marched down to Tarrytown, where they saw little action. Their three month term of service ended on November 30. They marched home at a quick pace, averaging 27 miles a day, arriving in Cohasset on December 7.

    Next, in 1779 Briton Nichols enlisted for a month’s service in Rhode Island, and a month’s service in the Hudson River Valley. Then in 1780, now age forty, he enlisted for six months as part of a levy raised by the town of Cohasset. When the Cohasset men arrived in Springfield, New Jersey, the last major battle in New Jersey had already been fought, but they didn’t know that, and British troops were still active in the area. In October, he was stationed at a military base in New Jersey, part of a large force encamped on two heights above the Totowa River. Even though some of the soldiers’ clothes were in rags, and they sometimes didn’t get enough to eat, they were nevertheless an able fighting force. The British attempted only one attack on Camp Totowa, following a band of Americans who had been out on a foray; they were quickly driven back. We can imagine that perhaps Briton Nichols was sent out on one of the forays against the British, but there’s no way of knowing what service he actually saw.

    That was his last stint in the army. In traveling to and from military service, he walked the astounding distance of some 1500 miles, sometimes managing a punishing pace of 27 miles a day. After the war, Briton moved from Cohasset to Hingham, where he lived with his wife Phebe. Although Briton and Phebe never made much money, at least they kept their freedom and independence.

    I’m not sure that we today can fully understand what Briton Nichols lived through. He began life enslaved, then became free before he became a soldier. He served as a Revolutionary War soldier where he probably saw serious fighting. After the war, he lived to see slavery abolished in Massachusetts. While he never owned real estate, as other free Blacks in Cohasset and Hingham did, he at least managed to maintain his financial freedom.(8) I imagine he must have had a strong spiritual core to get through all that. Perhaps, as was true of many African Americans, he drew on both Christianity, traditional African spirituality, and the humanism that was later expressed in the blue. Whatever the source of his spiritual strength, I admire his resilience and courage.

    Noah Nichols

    The third and final person I’d like to tell you about is Noah Nichols Jr. Before I do, let me digress briefly to tell you how the lives of all three of the people whose stories I’m telling today are intertwined. Noah Jr.’s paternal grandfather, Nathaniel Nichols, was the enslaver of Briton Nichols, and Briton may have been living with one of Noah’s cousins as late as 1776.(9) Noah Nichols Jr. and Persis Tower Lincoln Hall were second cousins, sharing their great-grandfather Israel Winslow Nichols. And Persis’ first husband, Allen, was third cousin once removed to Noah’s wife Abigail. Now let’s get back to Noah.

    Noah Nichols was born on January 8, 1754, the third of thirteen children. His father, Noah Sr., had served in the French and Indian War.(10) And Noah Sr. was one of the wealthier landowners in Cohasset; in 1771, just before he died, he ranked 31 out of 123 property owners in Cohasset.(11)

    Noah Sr. died in 1771, when Noah Jr. was seventeen; leaving his wife Abigail pregnant and responsible for nine other children. By March of 1775, Noah was having sex with his girlfriend Abigail Lincoln. Their first child was born on December 15 of that year, though they remained unmarried. This may seem surprising to us today, but there was a rise in premarital sex in Massachusetts in the second half of the eighteenth century, and some 30 to 40% of all first births were conceived before marriage.(12)

    Noah and Abigail finally got married on February 28, 1776. By July, Noah was working as a wheelwright for the Continental Army at Ticonderoga.(13) As with Briton Nichols, we can’t know whether he was motivated by money or by ideals. He must have displayed leadership ability, though, for on November 9, 1776, he was commissioned as a captain in Col. Ebenezer Stevens’s artillery battalion.(14) The army had decided to create companies of skilled workmen whose trades they needed. These were called “artificer companies,” and a master artisan was placed in charge of the company, often with the rank of officer.(15)

    Now that he was in charge of an artificer company, Noah had to find skilled workers to fill the company. By January, 1777, he was back in Cohasset, and on February 2, four Cohasset men enlisted in Noah’s artificer company: his brother Bela, Jonathan Bates, Melzar Joy, and James Stoddard (James had been one of the Cohasset men who participated in the Boston Tea Party).(16)

    While in Cohasset, Noah also attended to some spiritual business. His daughter Susannah was now two years old, and hadn’t been christened yet. On February 15, Noah and Abigail presented their child to be christened here in this meetinghouse by Rev. John Brown, our Patriot minister. Noah and Abigail went further than that — they also “owned the covenant,” that is, became formal members of the church. The process of owning the covenant went like this: after a private meeting with the minister, a formal meeting of the church was convened during which the applicants for membership publicly confessed their sins. Noah and Abigail did this on February 15.(17) Owning the covenant was a serious and major commitment; many people waited until they were a good bit older to own the covenant, if they bothered doing it at all. We can thus sense a change in Noah from the young man who, before the war, didn’t bother marrying his girlfriend until after their first child was born. Perhaps some of the things Noah had seen during his military service had given him a sense of his mortality, a desire to deepen his spirituality.

    Noah was back with the army in March, 1777, marching with his company for Ticonderoga. They were stationed there when General Burgoyne’s forces attacked. In July, they retreated to Albany with the rest of the artillery brigade.(18) During the retreat, a private serving under Noah was taken prisoner by the British.(19) By mid-July, Noah was back in Cohasset for leave.(20) Then in September and October, his company was in the battles that eventually led to the defeat of the British, and was present at the surrender of General Burgoyne.(21)

    After leaving Albany, Noah was based in New Jersey and Pennsylvania for the remainder of his military service. It was probably during this time that he had a memorable encounter with General Washington. While on a forced march, General Washington ordered him to repair the wheel of a gun carriage. Captain Nichols requested permission to stop the carriage while he was doing the repairs, but the general abruptly refused. Noah had to do the repairs while the gun carriage was underway. Telling this story in later years, Noah added, “It was the hardest thing I ever did, but I did it.”(22)

    By 1779, when Noah had put in three years of military service, the pay of the artificers had depreciated badly, and because the artificer companies didn’t belong to a state unit, their officers didn’t receive the allowance given to regular officers.(23) And although Noah had received an officer’s commission, the other officers serving under him — including his brother Bela — never received their commissions, though they had been promised.(24) In early 1780, the artificer corps were reorganized under cost-saving measures.(25)

    I suspect this was the last straw for Noah. On March 26, 1780, Noah’s second child, Elizabeth, was christened, and presumably he was present for the ceremony.(26) Noah resigned his officer’s commission on April 3.(27) By 1781, all officers of the artificer corps were dismissed as a cost-saving measure.

    After returning to Cohasset, Noah resumed working as a cartwright and a housewright; when there wasn’t enough work in his chosen trade, he would take on other kinds of work like plowing.(28) In 1787, he finally received compensation from Massachusetts for the depreciation of wages he suffered from 1777 to 1780.(29) Noah and Abigail had five children in 1787, so no doubt the extra money was welcome.

    Noah was one of two highest ranking Revolutionary War veterans in Cohasset; the other being Captain James Hall. Late in life, Noah took pride in his military service, and he “was accustomed in his old age to shoulder his fire-lock, ‘And show how the fields were won.’”(30) Noah died in 1833, aged 79, still an active member of this parish.(31)

    Now that I’ve told you about these three people — Persis, Briton, and Noah — here’s what I take away from their stories. First of all, all three of them lived through very challenging times. Living in Cohasset during the Revolution meant the threat of British invasion. The war also caused economic hard times, with depreciation of currency and shortages of food and goods. With all the men away fighting, that meant more work for those who stayed home. Soldiers and sailors might wind up as prisoners of war or missing in action, leaving their families in dreadful uncertainty. Even the soldiers and sailors who returned might have seen horrors that would affect them for the rest of their lives. — And all this was on top of the normal difficulties of those times: the many children who died in infancy; the challenge of wresting a living from the rocky soil of New England, or from the often dangerous Atlantic Ocean.

    Looking back, we think of the Revolutionary generation as somehow more heroic than we are. But they weren’t. They were ordinary people just like us. Somehow, they managed to summon up the courage to get through the hard times. Some of them, like Noah Nichols, found extra strength through participating in this religious community. For others, like Briton Nichols, we’ll never know know for sure where they found the strength to get through those hard times.

    We face hard times today — if we’re honest, times today aren’t nearly as hard as they were then — but still, we face hard times. Looking back at that Revolutionary generation causes me to wonder about where I’m going to get the strength to get me through the hard times of today. The Revolutionary generation found strength in their spiritual practices, and they found strength in the connections of family and community. Perhaps those are the places we should be looking for our own strength.

    Notes

    (1) Records of First Parish in Cohasset; Mass. Vital Records.
    (2) Details of Allen’s military service may be found in Commonwealth of Massachusetts, Massachusetts Soldiers and Sailors of the Revolutionary War (Boston: Wright & Potter, State Printers, 1902), p. 798; “United States, Rosters of Revolutionary War Soldiers and Sailors, 1775-1966,” www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:Q5W9-9RDY , Entry for Allen Lincoln. Record of his imprisonment may be found in Commonwealth of Massachusetts, Massachusetts Soldiers and Sailors of the Revolutionary War (Boston: Wright & Potter, State Printers, 1902), p. 79; “United States, Rosters of Revolutionary War Soldiers and Sailors, 1775-1966,” www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:QG2M-NFW5 , Entry for Allyn Lyncoln [note the two different spellings of his name]: “Lyncoln, Allyn. List of prisoners delivered to Col. Gabriel Johonnot by Mr. Charles Waller, Commissary of Prisoners at Rhode Island, March 17, 1778; reported a Seaman.”
    (3) Victor Bigelow, Narrative History of Cohasset (1898), p. 306; p. 290.
    (4) Waldo Lincoln, History of the Lincoln Family (Worcester, Mass.: Commonwealth Press, 1923), pp. 185-186.: “August 9, 1782, Persis Lincoln of Cohasset, widow, was admitted administratrix on the estate of Allin Lincoln, late of Cohasset, deceased intestate. The inventory of his estate, dated Aug. 14, 1782, shows that he left: real estate, house and half an acre of land, £80; personal estate £26:10. (Suffolk County Probate Records, vol. lxxxi, pp. 379, 630.)”
    (5) See e.g. Edwin G. Burrows, Forgotten Patriots: The Untold Story of American Prisoners during the Revolutionary War (Basic Books, 2008), p. 317 n. 12.
    (6) First Parish records.
    (7) The story of Briton Nichols is a condensed version of a talk I gave for the Cohasset Historical Society on 28 Feb. 2026, revised 30 March based on comments by Paula Bagger and George Quintal, and further research. That talk has been deposited in the First Parish archives, and full footnotes may be found there.
    (8) His wife Phebe was not so fortunate. After Briton’s death, she sank into poverty, and died in the Hingham poorhouse.
    (9) Paula Bagger’s research (personal communication) indicates the following: In 1773, Nathaniel Sr.’s estate is finally settled on Nathaniel Jr.’s children; the land is divided up, but there is no mention of Britain Nichols. In Cohasset’s 1776 census, the household of Nathaniel Nichols 3rd (1749-1833) had one Black resident; this may or may not have been Briton, and it is not clear whether that person was enslaved or free.
    (10) Victor Bigelow, p. 279; History of the Town of Hingham, Massachusetts, vol. III [Cambridge: University Press, John Wilson and son, 1893], p.87-88.
    (11) Victor Bigelow, pp. 277-276.
    (12) Robert Gross, The Minutemen and Their World (New York: Hill, 1976), p. 217, concluded that 41% of all first births in Concord, Mass., between 1760 and 1774 were prenuptial conceptions. Karen A. Weyler, “The Fruit of Unlawful Embraces,” Sex and Sexuality in Early America, ed. Merril D. Smith (New York: New York University Press, 1998), p. 292, says that the “changing relationship between parents and children may have also contributed to the striking rise in the incidence of premarital sex during the last decades of the eighteenth century…. from 1761 to 1800, 33 percent of all first births to married women occurred before the ninth month of marriage.”
    (13) Letter dated July 11, 1776, reprinted in: Peter Force, American Archives, Fifth Series: A Documentary History of the United States of America [July 4, 1776 to Sept. 3, 1783], volume I (Washington, D.C.: M. St. Clair and Peter Force, 1848), p. 653.
    (14) Robert K. Wright, The Continental Army (Washington, D.C.: Center of Military History, U.S. Army), p. 329; also see: W. T. R. Saffell, Records of the Revolutionary War 3rd ed. (Baltimore: Charles C. Saffell, 1894), p. 160.
    (15) Erna Risch, Supplying Washington’s Army (Washington, D.C.: Center of Military History, US Army, 1981), p. 152.
    (16) Saffell, Records of the Revolutionary War, p. 160.
    (17) In the First Parish records, these events appear as follows: In records of church meetings, “1777. Feby 15. Noah Nichols, and wife Abigail”; this would have been the church meeting where they confessed their sins. In records of those who owned the covenant, “1777. Feby 15. Noah Nickols and his Abigail his wife.” Finally, Susannah’s baptism is listed on that date. Note that in the terminology of the day, “church” meant the religious organization; this was different from the business side of the congregation, which was managed by the proprietors.
    (18) Some of these details from the account of the military service of Edward Burril of Lynn, Mass., who served under Capt. Noah Nichols. See: Howard Kendall Sanderson, Lynn in the Revolution, Part II (Boston: W. B. Clarke Company, 1909), pp. 236-237.
    (19) Saffell, Records of the Revolutionary War, p. 160.
    (20) Deduced from the birth date of his daughter Elizabeth.
    (21) Sanderson, p. 237.
    (22) From the address given by Hon. Thomas Russell at the Centennial Anniversary of the town of Cohasset, May 7, 1870, reprinted in: Duane Hamilton Hurd, ed., History of Norfolk County, Massachusetts (Philadelphia: J. W. Lewis & Cop., 1884), Chapter XIX: Cohasset, pp. 219-220.
    (23) Erna Risch, Supplying Washington’s Army (Washington, D.C.: Center of Military History, US Army, 1981), p. 155.
    (24) Journals of the Continental Congress 1774-1789, vol. XV. 1779 (September 2-December 31) (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1909), p. 1388-1389.
    (25) Erna Risch, Supplying Washington’s Army (Washington, D.C.: Center of Military History, US Army, 1981), pp. 156-157.
    (26) First Parish records.
    (27) Francis B. “Alphabetical List of Officers of the Continental Army,” Historical Register of the Officers of the Continental Army during the War of the Revolution, April 1775 to December 1783 (Washington, DC, Rare Book Shop Publishing Co., Inc., 1914), p. 414.
    (28) The account book of Ambrose Nichols, covering dates from c. 1809 to c. 1830 provides these details; presumably the two brothers, pursuing the same trade, had similar experiences. See the finding aid: University of Massachusetts Amherst, Ambrose Nichols Account Book, 1809-1830, 1 volume (0.25 linear ft.) Call no.: MS 210, findingaids.library.umass.edu/ead/mums210.pdf
    (29) “Noah Nichols appears as a Captain on an account rendered against the United States by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts for amounts paid officers and men of Capt. Jeduthan Baldwin’s regt. on account of depreciation of their wages for the first three years’ service in the Continental Army from 1777 to 1780. Account exhibited by Committee on Claims in behalf of Mass. against U.S., Sept 21, 1787.” — Entry for Noah Nichols, 21 September 1787, “Massachusetts, Revolutionary War, Index Cards to Muster Rolls, 1775-1783,” https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:QGKC-WVCV
    (30) Thomas Russell, in Duane Hamilton Hurd (1884), p. 220.
    (31) First Parish records. Rev. Jacob Flint usually only recorded the name of the person who died, but in this case he noted: “June 23. Noah Nichols in his 79th year.”