My View from 1958

I’ll wrap up the story called “The Route” in my next post. This week, though, I felt like taking another tangent—this time into one of my lifelong passions: American history.

I’ve been reading history books for as long as I can remember. Back in sixth grade, Mr. Anderson was our reading teacher. His class was simple—you read books, wrote short summaries, and the number of books you finished determined your grade. For some reason, one day he used me as an example of what a student should be reading. I had just finished The Swamp Fox of the Revolution, a story about Francis Marion and his small band of backwoodsmen who waged guerrilla warfare against the British in South Carolina during the Revolutionary War.

At the time, most of the girls in class were reading romance novels, which clearly didn’t impress Mr. Anderson. So, he lectured us—mostly them—about reading something “worthwhile.” That didn’t go over well. I can still hear the sarcastic “Oh, I’m sure” echoing around the room. Then, in a burst of rebellion, Kathy Gowing snatched my book and declared, “Fine, I’m going to read this one!” That lasted about two or three pages before she went back to her romances, or maybe Dick and Jane, for all I know.

In high school, I was lucky to have some truly great history teachers—Mr. Rexroth for American History and Mr. Mosley for World History and Geography. Both had an easygoing style, but Mr. Rexroth stood out because he made you live history. For one assignment, we had to dress in period clothing and give a presentation as if we were from that era. I chose John Dillinger. My grandma lent me some of my late Grandpa Vermillion’s old clothes, including a worn Fedora hat. I looked like I’d stepped straight out of the 1930s. Standing in front of the class, I told Dillinger’s story—his rise, his downfall—and I realized how much deeper you learn when you have to teach it. As Stephen Covey said, “In learning you will teach, and in teaching you will learn.”

Recently, I finally visited the local museum in my town—a trip I’d been meaning to make for a couple of years. I’m glad I did. In the basement of that old 1850s house was a hidden room behind a false wall—once used to shelter runaway slaves. It was part of the Underground Railroad. Inside were artifacts found in that space: a bottle of arsenic (to be used if capture seemed inevitable), a few small toys, and some rusted chains likely used as handcuffs. Standing there, I felt that rare and powerful sensation of living history—the kind that reaches across time and grabs hold of you.

I also just finished reading History Matters, a posthumous collection of essays by the great historian David McCullough. I’ve read many of his works—1776, John Adams, Truman, The Pioneers, The Wright Brothers, The Path Between the Seas, and Brave Companions. His central theme in History Matters is clear: history is not just a record of what happened, but a guide for how to live, lead, and think. It reminds us who we are and what we stand for.

In today’s world, where many are eager to erase or rewrite the past—and where critical thinking seems in short supply—McCullough’s voice feels more important than ever. Too many people reach for Google, TikTok, or a news clip instead of reflection, study, and understanding.

Here are some of McCullough’s major themes:

1. The Value of History
   History isn’t just a list of events—it’s a teacher. McCullough says, “History shows us how to behave. History teaches what we believe in, what we stand for. To ignore the past is not just ignorance—it’s ingratitude.”
2. Character and Leadership
   McCullough highlights leaders like Truman and Washington, whose optimism, determination, and integrity shaped the nation. Leadership, he argues, isn’t just about tactics—it’s about character and values, especially in times of crisis.
3. Seeing Through the Eyes of the Past
   We understand history best when we see it as those who lived it did, not through the filter of modern thinking. That’s why museums, living history exhibits, and honest storytelling are vital—they let us navigate our own uncertain times with the wisdom of those who came before.
4. Patriotism and Shared Values
   For McCullough, patriotism is rooted in gratitude—for what came before and for what can still be built. He said, “The freedoms and institutions we enjoy weren’t accidents—they were earned, shaped, and defended by those who believed in something larger than themselves.”

Visiting the museum and McCullough’s work renewed my passion for studying history and passing on its lessons. It’s true what they say: in learning, we teach—and in teaching, we learn. See you next time and I am sure I will finish, The Route.