Official Newspaper of Eddy County since 1883
Official Newspaper of Eddy County since 1883
These wooden shoes from Sweden, on display at the Eddy County Museum, often make patrons say "wow." For many of us, the only references to wooden shoes we have witnessed were in cartoons, not in real life. These particular shoes date to the 1860s and were donated by Ester Lund Siebold in 1973. Courtesy photo.
It's fairly common at the Eddy County Museum that someone becomes overcome with deep emotion over a single item. Perhaps it is the Edison phonograph, a butter ladle or a collection of hatpins. When someone says, "My grandmother had one of these," they aren't just remembering. They are reaching back in time, into the histories of their elders.
Other times museum goers experience an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, especially when they see something that takes them back to their own childhood. A sparkle of delight might shine from a woman's eyes when she sees a paper doll collection or the yearbook from her senior year. This kind of recollection is rooted in the living memory. It highlights what is deeply familiar, yet forgotten in our daily lives.
For those of us who are in our 30s or 40s, we aren't likely to get that same nostalgic experience at a history museum. Our childhoods aren't yet historic. It will be 2028 before Masters of the Universe figurines will reach historic status. The Nintendo Game Boy will become a historic artifact in 2039. While we might feel incredibly nostalgic about these items, what will they tell us about history and cultural development? I think it's best to leave that question to the future historians of the 2060s.
It's an unfortunate insight that many in my generation learned about America's cultural history from visual images on television. Things like scrub boards, steam engines, butter churns and candlestick telephones exist in very few of our memories – but more so within our imaginations.
While we may have had the privilege to hear stories from grandparents, images from popular culture had already tainted our perspective. For 12 years I thought my grandpa was a real deal, rough and tough cowboy. It turned out he was a vacuum salesman with an impressive hat.
One day we will be part of a dying generation, but will we be able to serve as a bridge to the past? Do we know how a cream separator works or what kind of fuel to put in a kerosene lantern? Can we conceive how people made their own clothes or consider how valuable a gourd dipper might have been?
Luckily, we don't have to learn it all, but it is important to remember that each of us carries a unique history within us. It extends back further than we know, and is more complex than we can imagine. It's a history that we each get to cultivate and share over time.
