Years ago, when I was a little girl, I loved to listen to my grandmother. She would tell me her stories, born in 1899, she came from an other century, that was like magic for me. Her stories were simple. She told me one story about red shoes that she bought from her first self earned money. She worked as a secretary at her uncles Paint Factory and had to quit her job once she got married. She loved to tell me about her honeymoon in Paris in 1928. The beautiful vibrant capital of France, Paris was the interwar Utopia. In another story she shared her fear, as a mother of five children, in the second world war. For a couple of months she and her family lived in the basement, while their house was in the frontline. Those were special stories not only because my grandmother was telling them. It told me how life was in her generation.
My father, born in 1930, was my other favourite storyteller. Most of his childhood was in the war and his child perspective gave a different war story. With his father and older brother he went to see the English soldiers in a village nearby. They had not realized that there was still a fight going on. The sound of the guns, he remembered them all his life. That was in September 1944, they needed to wait for the liberation of the Netherlands till may 1945. My father would also proudly tell me about his grandfather who came from Germany to a small town in the Netherlands early 1886, to start his own shop. Selling fabrics and yarns, or making clothing for the farmers in that area. As a child I got to play in the shop’s attic and look at the original interior. I loved it. I could just sit there dreaming about how it could have been when my great-grandfather was working there. A third story father often told me was about his fascination for Roman history. As a volunteer he worked at a local Roman museum. An old roman bridge had been found in the river near the village. I learned about the people, who lived at the same place 2000 years before I did.
As a child I loved to listen to those stories. It felt as an opportunity to look into another world and learn from the world around me. I developed a preference for museums, architecture, art and historical sites. I like to know things about places or people of the past. As an American novelist, James Baldwin, once said ‘ People are trapped in history and history is trapped in them.’ .
A lot of people will pull grumpy faces whenever they hear the word history because they think it its boring and it is of no use. I’m convinced that it is not. I can think of a hundred reasons why it is fascinating, and here are five I want to share with you right now.
First of all, History is the guide to understand our society. How can we understand society today without understanding what created it? The events and people that shaped who we are today are important. Studying History allows us to develop critical thinking skills that make us ask questions to develop a more informed view of the world around us.
Secondly, it makes you understand Change. What did my father, his brother and my grandfather see at the river near that village in September 1944? Were the English soldiers taking over, did it mean the end of the war? In the global context we know that the events leading up to both World Wars help us understand how a small event can set off a large series of changes. History gives us the opportunity to see how daily life has changed over the years, and what goes into the fostering that change.
The third reason, history is fascination. It intrigues people to know where they came from. This is why I loved listening to my grandmothers stories. We want to know what blood runs in our veins. That is why programmes like ‘Who do you think you are?’ are so popular and more than 10 countries copied this British genealogy documentary series. Knowing the history of your family is very important to some people in finding a sense of identity.
A fourth reason I want to bring in, is that history inspires us. Hearing the stories of those before us can inspire us to take action in our own lives. The Paris-stories of my grandmother made me want to go there. My great-grandfather with his clothing atelier made me want to try it myself. My ancestors came to the Netherlands and worked their hardest for a better life, inspires me to work my hardest to provide a good future for my family. Our past can have a huge impact on our future and we need that inspiration to teach us that.
The fifth reason is that history teaches us warning signs. Knowing what events led up to a large occasion helps us better predict and influence our future. We pray that another Holocaust will never happen to any group of people ever again. But because of our suffering, we have learned the warning signs leading up to such a horror. Society has been able to take these warning signs and fight against them when they seem them in the present day. A Spanish philosopher called George Santayana (1863-1952), who lived most of his life in the USA, once said : ’Those that do not learn history are doomed to repeat it’.
History is more than the living record of nations, leaders and wars. It is also the story of you and me, us. It is packed in with tales of how someone stood up for what they believed in, or died for love, or worked hard to make their dreams come true. All those things are concepts we can relate to. History is in every one’s interest, there is not one truth when looking back. Studying history will make you a better person. You will have a better understanding of the world and what shaped it into the world it is today. You will understand the suffering, joy, and chaos that were necessary for the present day to happen.
A simple habit that I have, has made me realise that history is part of my spirit. Every time I go to a new place, on my way there I’m not only looking forward, but also looking behind me every once in a while. I want to see the view and remember it, just in case I get lost and I need to find my way back. The habit of looking back makes me feel confident to go further. I want to share stories of my, or anyone’s family . Those will explain history and inspire us in daily life. Like my grandmother’s and my father’s storytelling did and still do to me.
I spy with my historical eye 