More accurately, I guess it wasn’t really history that I hated. It was the way we would review a thick textbook and be tested on names of people who did things I didn’t care about, in places I didn’t know, at times which didn’t matter to me.
Not caring about the dates, places and people, it wasn’t surprising that I didn’t do well on history exams. I suppose it’s human nature to dislike the things we’re not good at, to enjoy forgetting the things we can’t remember.
I recalled my other history classes. Normally, as the lectures droned on, I was busier daydreaming about the future than focused on the past.
I was not unlike most adolescents. It was at a time in my life when the girls across the room trumped the courageous women of history – no matter what they had achieved. It was a time when the bully in the schoolyard seemed much more significant than some foreign dictator or dead politician.
I came into the class expecting more boredom, anticipating continued frustration. But this teacher was different.
When he spoke of historical people, he introduced them in such a way that I could almost imagine meeting them in the neighbourhood.
When he explained events, he described them in a way that I could almost imagine being there.
This was no rote recitation of names, dates and places. He introduced us to people we could care about, situations we could hate, dilemmas we could feel. As we speculated and argued about how we would have acted in similar circumstances, he took the opportunity to introduce even more of the historical context.
That year at Central High, my perspective toward history changed. I started to understand importance of looking backward.
I remembered that history teacher again this week as I made my first visit to the Manitoba Archives.
I’m trying to find some old pictures of life in the West End for a large display in a building we’re renovating. I’m looking for early 1900’s pictures of homes, businesses, churches and schools. Snapshots of kids at play, of people at work. By the way, if you have some good old West End pictures, please give me a call at 775-4929.
I mentioned this to George, a friend from church that reminded me of my old teacher – the one that kindled within me a respect for history.
George spent many years researching and guiding the restoration of some of the important historical landmarks in and around Winnipeg. The first time I talked with him about his work, I quickly discovered that his passion for history transcended his occupational responsibilities.
I couldn’t think of a better friend with whom to travel to the archives.
It felt like I was entering a museum filled with invaluable exhibits. There were two levels of security. One as we entered the building, and another as we approached our destination. Drawers of index cards and shelves of binders provided links into banks of filing cabinets filled with old pictures. There were other cabinets with news clippings, posters and oversize prints.
Once inside, we were met by some of George’s friends. Folks with a similar respect for our heritage. One of them, Randy, had found an amazing picture of a building we’re renovating on Ellice Avenue.
As I searched the files for pictures, I found some great snapshots of Winnipeg’s history. I’m already excited about returning to the Archives.
While there, I also caught some of the discussion between George and Randy. They reminisced about old times and old buildings, some restored and others lost.
I could understand their disappointment with politicians and bureaucrats that had auctioned off architectural jewels for cinderblock boxes built to maximize profit.
As I listened, I realized it’s about more than buildings. It’s about the way we respect or disrespect our heritage.
I remember watching a movie in the 70’s where a guy laughed as he ripped off the rear view mirror in his car. “When you’re traveling this fast,” he quipped, “what’s behind you doesn’t matter.”
That’s a silly attitude toward rear view mirrors, and a downright dangerous attitude toward history.
In life, as in architecture, you can never move so fast that your past can’t catch up to you.
Our historians are more than the keepers of bygone names, dates and places. They do more than provide pictures of old buildings. They provide an important lens through which to interpret the present.
We need to listen when they talk.
Rev. Harry Lehotsky
514 Maryland Street
Winnipeg, Mb R3G 1M5
(204) 775-4929
lehotsky@escape.ca