History—From A Hysterical Historical Perspective

Even More Random Thoughts And Cogitations


One thing that I’ve learned over the past 46 years residing here on this lovely planet is this fact:

I DON’T KNOW SHIT FROM SHINEOLA WHEN IT COMES TO SUBSTANTIAL PORTIONS OF HISTORY—US HISTORY OR OTHERWISE.

Another thing that I’ve come to realize is that many if not most people around me know even less than I do.

A major problem, as I see it, is that our schools aren’t teaching history any more.

History curriculums are all tangled up in the political agendas of the liberal textbook publishers and the political correctness crowds, and what little factual history that actually manages to leak through the process and gets taught in a few classrooms falls on the ignorant, deaf ears of children that could care less about the lessons to be learned from studying the few successes and many failures of our ancestors.

I know that I couldn’t have cared less about history lessons when I was in school back in the 1960’s and 1970’s, but I did manage to absorb enough names and dates to supply me with a foundation to learn a good deal more about the events that preceded my appearance on the planet in 1959.

With rare exceptions, it seems that your history genes only kick in after you’ve lived through two or three decades of your own personal history and start realizing that a broad knowledge of world history might represent a good form of an “owner’s manual” for living life in general.

I wish that I could go back and take all of my classes over again, because I might come away with an appreciation of the efforts and tribulations of our predecessors that could have saved me a good deal of time and effort expended because of my ignorance to date.

The other thing that I’m learning to appreciate is the oral history provided by older people that I come in contact with.

Everything from family stories recited by my recently departed 93 year old grandmother to stories of growing up on Long Island, NY in the 1920’s and 1930’s told by my 85 year old friend Harlan “Bucky” Strader (Dartmouth Class of 1942) have slipped right past me in my day to day life and I can’t remember 1% of what I was told.

I wish that I could keep a tape recorder in my pocket and pull it out and thrust the microphone toward some of the characters that I’ve known in the past and/or still run into today.

My Uncle John—the WWII B-25 tail gunner—and “Old Man Schwaller” that lives down the street and grew up in Chicago in the 1920’s come to mind at first, but on second thought our little island is a haven for literally hundreds if not thousands of ancient individuals with amazing historical insights to relate, if someone would just listen.

Our neighborhood lost another beloved resident, 89 year old Laura, to heart failure last weekend. Although I hardly knew her, I did know that Laura was from a well-to-do local family and grew up riding a steam ship ferry from Sea Island to the mainland to attend grade school in the 1920’s and early 1930’s before the causeway connected the islands to the mainland.

She told stories of playing Golf in the UK at St. Andrews and riding horses instead of driving a car around the island and seeing the Georgia coastal islands go from the playground of industrial magnates like Morgan, Coffin, Vanderbilt, and Rockefeller to becoming the home of thousands of slightly above average Americans (all legends in our own minds) that it is today.

Ironically, I’ve set here this morning with the History Channel droning on in the background with their program addressing the potential disaster that a hurricane striking NY City would cause.

It seems to me that since Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans that the media and much of general public are continuously in a state of hysterical disarray about the potential of additional “killer hurricanes” coming grinding on shore this summer to kill women, children, and minorities is disproportionate numbers.

Excuse me while I take this opportunity to YAWN in a quite disinterested manner.

You see, using my own intimate knowledge of history, this middle aged southern Redneck has lived to be on a first name basis with a number of category two and three hurricanes in the past and all I have to say is…

“Told you so…”

What I want to know is, why is everybody freaking out?

Just like the History Channel program pointed out, “killer storms” have hit places like NY City before in the past, and ignorantly building structures and placing your coffee table, wife, children, and dog (not to mention your photo album and family heirlooms) within miles if not yards of flood plains and coast lines is just inviting disaster.

The question isn’t IF, it’s WHEN you’ll appear on CNN and FOX News.

That said, I will admit we live within about a mile and one half of the Atlantic Ocean, and in addition the salt marsh is about 100 yards away from our front door. According to the media, I should tilt my head back, throw my arms into the air, and run screaming to the nearest FEMA official to complain about my plight in life.

But I won’t, because I’ve lived within a couple hundred miles of the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic my entire life (much of the time within 100 miles or less) and hurricanes are just part of life—not a news event or a government relief program in the making to me.

Gosh darn it people, anyone with any sense should realize that it’s just a matter of time until we get nailed here on St. Simons Island, and the fact that Miami missed Hurricane Andrew by 50 miles and Charleston, SC missed Hugo by 30 miles just makes the probability of a major strike imminent in the next ten or so years a no-brainer.

Get ready, because if the Bird Flue and the sharks and the alligators don’t get you, the next “monster storm” probably will.

Regardless of what form my ultimate demise takes, I’m going out kicking and screaming.

I just want to die of or for something other than cancer or old age...how about you?