History: Out of Sight, Out of Mind?

The thing I remember most about my years in history classes is how removed I felt from everything. Geographically removed, emotionally removed. My dad’s family came to the States in 1703. After stints in South Carolina and Tennessee, they went to the promise land, Texas. And then in the 1800’s, ol’ Elijah Adam Euless stowed away on a train, got to Long Beach, California, and the rest, as they say, is history. My family has 6th generation Californians- no wonder I feel removed from the original 13 colonies.

As a kid in California, I don’t remember learning much about history. I know there was something about a Gold Rush, which is helpful, because it gave the 49er football team and their cheerleaders some inspiration for names. I also know we were told about the Spanish Jesuits who came up from Latin America and built missions along the coast. We took our requisite fieldtrips to Mission San Juan Bautista and Carmel, and looked at musty, cold rooms. And that’s about all I remember. Truth be told, I probably cared more about whom I was sitting next to on the bus, and what was being served for lunch.

Then came middle school and high school. I remember learning about the Holocaust and feeling grateful to live in America. I remember being appalled and weeping at the movie Roots. Something in my spirit knew that wasn’t right. I remember learning that the Union states were good and stood for freedom, whereas the Confederacy states were bad and stood for slavery. I suppose my educated teacher explained events in elaborate detail, but all I walked away with was that cursory understanding. Now that I’ve lived in the South, I realize it’s not that simple, but it’s fascinating how people in different parts of the same country learn history in completely different ways.

I could speculate on why I didn’t care to learn about the rest of the country when I was young. Did I just think that California was better than everywhere else? Probably. Is it not? Louie Giglio said once that we in CA think the country ends at the Rocky Mountains. Spot on. In any case, I think it is sad how little many West Coast people, myself included, know about our country and its history. On the East Coast, there are plaques, monuments and sites all over the place. All the way from Boston’s Freedom Trail (which is awesome, by the way) featuring Revolutionary War artifacts and places, down to St. Augustine, Florida, a city founded in something like 1562- WAY before those schmucks landed at Plymouth… Anyway. Super interesting, and they tell part of the story of our country. I wish we had that sense of history on the west coast. If you’ve yet to visit the east coast, please do it! Learning about others not only broadens our horizons, but helps us learn about ourselves. And besides, who couldn’t use a vacation?