I’ve been thinking recently about history education – mostly about what’s lost as an interdisciplinary approach morphs history into God-knows-what. But that’s neither here nor there; a tiny memory surfaced the other day.
I must have been 10 or 11 – we went to see a local fiddler, advanced in years, perform at the fire hall. After he was done, we were free to go up and talk to him. I asked him about another local musician who played with him years ago. He said, “Oh… he’s dead and gone.”
I remember thinking, “I can’t do anything about who’s dead, but I’ll decide who’s gone.”
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