I'm not sure how often I'll be posting here. One of my brothers asked me a couple of questions about our hometown, and I realized that I'm not getting any younger, and a lot of the information that I've been carrying around in my head has never been written down, and where histories aren't kept, people create myths.
Myths are filled with larger than life figures, doing impossible deeds. They give us hope, but the wrong kind: myths are meant to convince us that there is some magic out there, that will lift us out of the mire, and make us whole. True hope, real, living hope, comes in understanding the lives of our ancestors. History is human, blood and sweat and tears. People die, and they fail, and they make mistakes, sometimes horrific mistakes. And sometimes, they do things that are quietly remarkable. Histories remind us that we weak, fallible humans are the progeny of weak, fallible humans, and that's OK: they pulled through. They even did things that changed the world.
And so can we.
I hope to tell some histories, debunk some myths, and tie the past a bit more securely to our present. I'm also going to try to limit entries to 1,000 words or less. I might as well announce I'm competing in the Ski Jump at the Sochi Olympics, but I will try.
We'll see how it goes.
