Standing on the Shoulders of Giants
This Sunday afternoon was a little chilly. There was about 30 minutes left until the end of the church service. The pastor was praying for various groups of people: those with upcoming birthdays, children being promoted to the next Sunday school class, and students. Then, he humorously mutters about how college students change their majors, remarking:"you switch from math to history;what is history? Go to your grandmother if you want to get history!"
Then I thought, you know...he's right. We really are standing on the shoulders of giants. Our folks have their own slices of history to share. They are our gateways to the past; we stand on their shoulders, lift windows, and are able to peek into a world we were never a part of. Though we never smelled the musty air of the 70s, we can hang on their memories and words; we can catch its scent. History is not limited to wars and politics.
It is eating breakfast in the parlor, while listening to the dial radio in the 1960s. It is holding the hems of gingham dresses whilst laughing in the daisy patch, and clutching boxy portmanteaus in funny-looking automobiles. It is tapping palm wine in the village. History has a simplicity to it. It is not HIS story. It is our story: a mosaic of experiences both seemingly insignificant, and poignantly groundbreaking.
But it is also beautiful..
Then I thought, you know...he's right. We really are standing on the shoulders of giants. Our folks have their own slices of history to share. They are our gateways to the past; we stand on their shoulders, lift windows, and are able to peek into a world we were never a part of. Though we never smelled the musty air of the 70s, we can hang on their memories and words; we can catch its scent. History is not limited to wars and politics.
It is eating breakfast in the parlor, while listening to the dial radio in the 1960s. It is holding the hems of gingham dresses whilst laughing in the daisy patch, and clutching boxy portmanteaus in funny-looking automobiles. It is tapping palm wine in the village. History has a simplicity to it. It is not HIS story. It is our story: a mosaic of experiences both seemingly insignificant, and poignantly groundbreaking.
History is heart-wrenching..
But it is also beautiful..
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| An old notebook from school days in Nigeria. Courtesy of my parents bookshelf. Well it certainly isn't like the marble composition books of nowadays! |
Photo Credits: Nigeria Nostalgia Project & Google
How will you shape history?
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