The Presidential Question

Everyone seems to have a favorite president. It's like having a favorite color or food, or a favorite sports team. You feel an inexplicable and rather insipid loyalty to someone you've probably never met -- someone who may have died before your grandparents were even born. It's a personal connection to the past that most people probably never give a second thought. Why should they?

My favorite president was a master of language, a student of philosophy, the architect of the Louisiana Purchase, and a Founding Father. Thomas Jefferson is widely seen as the main author of the Declaration of Independence, which is the draw I think he possesses for me. The words themselves are eloquent yet raw, direct yet inconspicuous; he was clearly brilliant. But, it least for me, the power of the words, not the words themselves, is more incredible:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

He must've had some idea that these words had a certain potential, but did he know that one day everyone in America would be able to recite them? Above all, that is his mystic quality for me. Through his language, he lives on -- somewhat disguised and somewhat ignored, because, for most, his words are more known than his name. In addition, he was just a cool guy. I mean, he had every job under the sun, and he was basically a literary genius. Oh, and he doubled the size of the country literally overnight (no big deal, right?).

Being the history nerd I am, I tend to judge other people on who their favorite president is. It's not so much judging in the pejorative sense, I just think I gain insight about people from their answers. So, don't be shy. Who's your favorite president?

And if you're also interested into the aesthetic nature of presidental favorites, check out this article by Clinton Cargill!

< Histrophile >

The Land Before Time: Iran

What happens when history works in reverse? What happens when history doesn't just repeat itself, and the world doesn't just stay the same -- what happens when time reverses and history comes back from the past to manifest itself in the present? No, I'm not crazy. I'm not talking about a sci-fi movie that involves a very athletic and attractive young actor traveling through the centuries on a time machine. I am talking about real places in the world today -- places like Iran.

In Reading Lolita in Tehran, Nafisi recalls a conversation she had with her daughter at one point in the 1990s. Her daughter was complaining about school and Nafisi told her basically to get over it. But Nafisi's daughter response is curious for many reasons. She told her mother that she could never understand how she, Nafisi's daughter, felt because her mother was never punished for wearing the wrong color shoelaces when she was in school.

First off, it's a rather wise remark for a quite young person to come up with. But, more interestingly, the roles seem to be reversed. The daughter -- the younger person from the newer generation -- is expressing exasperation at the ignorance of the mother -- the older person -- in regards to growing up in an unstable, oppressive society.

Since the start of the Iranian Revolution in 1979, the nation has unilaterally become a different place, a place that almost seems to be thrust backwards in time. For example, the portraits of current leaders of Iran more resemble portraits from the Iranian leaders of the 1500s and 1600s than they do the leaders of the 1970s. The nation, in many ways, has become reactionary. New out, old in.


So how does this new generation, who has grown up with the Islamic Republic of Iran, relate to their parents and grandparents, people who lived through times much more liberal, much more open, more lavish, much more free? Is it possible that they would feel more of a kinship to their ancestors from the pre-modern Iran?

Also, one last thing to think about: are there any other societies that have, in recent times, had this sort of history reversal occur? If so, I'd like to hear, because I was unable to think of any others.

< Histrophile >

British Booty: The Rosetta Stone

In English class, we have been discussing the role of museums in society. One of the things my teacher brought up about a week ago was the British Museum in London and how she really doesn't like it. To her it seems like a huge treasure chest -- Britain's booty from their loot of their their vast number of colonies. This idea intrigued me because I've been to the British Museum, and I can remember hating it for other reasons. Mainly it was huge and my history-buff parents (what a surprise, right?) would not leave. Oh, and I was like nine. So I decided to do some research into the British Museum to see where all of their pieces really come from, and if my teacher was correct in using the treasure chest metaphor.

The simple answer -- they're stolen.

The Rosetta Stone has been biting at my interest for a while, and I knew that the British Museum is its current home, so I dove into the history of it for a bit, a few days ago, and what I found out is fascinating (to me at least), but not all that surprising.

Basically, it was also stolen. But it's somewhat special. The Rosetta Stone had the immeasurable pleasure of being stolen not once, but twice. In 1799, it is widely accepted that Napoleon discovered the stone while digging reinforcements into the French Fort Julien, in Egypt. Although, I hope it to be rather obvious that Napoleon was not in fact the one with his hands in the dirt and the sweat seeping through his shirt. Ergo, it was some unnamed soldat français who actually rediscovered the Rosetta Stone. But I was not able to find the name of any specific soldier, so he shall continue to be unnamed -- a small example of how people only remember the big guys (of course I mean that metaphorically, not literally, because Napoleon was, in stature, quite small) and the winners.

Which bring us to the role of the British. They're the winners. They tend to win. They like to win. And it is the basis of much of their national identity. So, in true British fashion, George III's army defeated the French in Egypt, in 1801, and took what they said was theirs, including the Rosetta Stone. France finally accepted its fate -- essentially the seizure of all its archeological and historical discoveries -- by signing the Capitulation of Alexandria, along with the British and Ottomans, in August of 1801.

Most people would probably agree that the British and French stole the stone from Egypt, and that Egyptians have the right to want it back (although they tend to be rather preoccupied at the moment; the return of the Rosetta Stone is not exactly on their radar). But who, of the two Europeans, is more at fault? The French for taking it in the first place, or the British for not returning it upon seizure and continuing to hold it 200 years later? Do we, as citizens of the world and students of history, have a bias against certain nations, or empires, or peoples because of what they've done in the past? Because the British are often seen as "the conquerors" with "the empire," do they always have to be the most at fault? And how do these biases based on events and patterns affect the way we see, not only history after the fact, but history before the fact, as well as modern issues?

For more on this historical tale, check out this article!

< Histrophile >

A Break from the Usual

June 15, 1215 -- the day King John signed the Magna Carta. October 12, 1492 -- Christopher Columbus and his crew set foot on land in the Americas. June 28, 1914 -- Archduke Ferdinand, heir to The Austro-Hungarian throne, is assassinated, essentially beginning World War I. August 6, 1945 -- the day the United States drops an atomic bomb on Hiroshima, Japan. September 11, 2001 -- possibly the worst day in the history of the modern United States.

It may be cliché to say, but everything in history starts on one day. The stories of those days are told over and over again. Over time, it comes to feel likes they're not even real. They never really happened. Even if they're true, they're just stories. It's almost impossible to realize that one day, 600 years ago, Christopher Columbus, the man who we drew pictures of in first grade and whose ships we made models of in fifth grade, actually stepped foot onto land in the Americas for the first time -- radically altering the course of history forever. It may be even harder to realize that for Columbus, that day -- October 12, 1492 -- was just another day. Sure it was special, he thought that he had found a water route to India! But it was just 24 hours of his life. Like I discussed last week, he didn't foresee the pilgrims arrival, or the Triangular Trade, or kids in classrooms signing songs about his three ships.

Usually I profile a person, or group of people, or event in every post. But this week I had to react to another post I've read. So I went on a quest through my Google Reader account. I was going to find a post about something historical, comment historically, and make a very profound historical statement. But, instead, I ended up reading a bunch of posts from a blog that gives you what happened on "this day in history." And obviously that blog filled my mind with these thoughts I've just expressed in a mildly eloquent, but somewhat ranting, fashion.

I don't know exactly why I love history so much. And I get even more lost when I try to visualize ways to transfer my love to others. But I can always say this: today, you could be making history.

< Histrophile >

The Tallest Man On Earth - The Wild Hunt (Live)

The Big Three & Their Legacy

Over the summer my brother, who's a total hipster (but refuses to admit it), gave me a bunch of new music, and I absolutely fell in love with an artist who goes by "The Tallest Man On Earth." Tallest Man's second album is called The Wild Hunt, and the song with the same name is my favorite piece he's released. The line that actually makes me salivate every time I hear it because it is just so good is, "And I plan to be forgotten when I'm gone."

Being the historian I am, that line has planted a little seed inside of my brain. And, I guess in some ways, that seed has grown into this blog post.

A pillar of my personal philosophy is that people from the past affect us every day of our lives. From Ray Kroc's empire on every street corner to the bigger things, like the laws set forth by the founding fathers, to the smaller things, like whoever decided my high schools colors would be green and gold. No matter if we recognize it or not, we see them everywhere we go. They may not be alive, but they're present. We somehow remember them, even if we never knew who they were.

I am now going to make a claim.

There are three people who have had the most monumental impact on the world. They will never be forgotten. They can never be forgotten as long as the human race exists. Period.

Jesus, Confucius, and Muhammad.

But my question is what would they say if they knew? How would they all react to know that they have, pretty much alone, changed the religion, and the art, and the architecture, and the family structures, and the philosophy, and the daily ritual, and the societal norms, and the food — and the everything — of the world forever?

Do people truly ever understand the impact they will have long after they die? How could Jesus have known that people all across the world would someday know the story of his birth? How could Confucius have known that China, Japan, Korea, and the entire east Asian region would, almost 3000 years after his death, still base their lives around his school of thought? How could Muhammad have known that almost 2 million people a year would retrace his steps to Mecca?

The answer is they couldn't have known. Obviously. But did they want to be remembered? Did they actually aim to change the world? Did it matter to them? Should we care that we (probably) will never be remembered in the same way that Jesus, or Confucius, or Muhammad are?

My personal view on creating a legacy for yourself is rather cynical and existential, so I won't bore you with the details. But I will say this: to The Tallest Man On Earth — I really do love that line.

< Histrophile >

"Average Zhou": The True Background

Due to popular disdain towards my utilization of a certain Chinese history pun in my very first post, I have decided to post this short blurb to give credit where credit is due. Back in my Freshman year, my World History teacher, Mr. Williams, made the pun "Average Zhou". Ergo (one of my all-time favorite words), that little joke I made is not mine. This is a shout-out to Mr. Williams -- You are a punny person, way punnier than me.

< Histrophile >

A Scottish Queen Who Knew How to Pick 'Em

Most people have a best friend when they're younger. And over the years, people tend to grow apart or make new friends, and those bonds can tear or splinter. I consider myself lucky when I say that I've had the same two best friends since I was a little kid. And I don't consider myself naive when I say that I truly believe we will remain best friends for the rest of our lives. Our bond is that strong.

Friendship is an interesting thing to talk about, because it is actually a culmination of things like affection, trust, respect, and even love. Throughout history, friendships have made and destroyed peoples careers, families, and even lives. There are so many good examples of friendships in history that have gone wrong and turned out with hate, and greed, and carnage that it can seem as though all the famous friendships end out bad. For example, think Henry II and Thomas Becket.

But my all-time favorite historical friendship (an odd classification, I know) is a five-way relationship (possibly a quintship?) that didn't end in murder or the stealing of a crown . Mary Queen of Scots had four friends — all named Mary, as well — who lived with her throughout her childhood in France during the mid-1500s. The four other Mary's — Mary Seton, Mary Fleming, Mary Livingston, and Mary Beaton — were chosen to be the Queen Mary's companions when she was very young for rather political reasons. However, they grew to be an extremely tight-knit group. Their relationship far surpassed a mini-Queen and her mini-ladies-in-waiting; they were best friends. And they continued to be close for the rest of their lives, even after most of them got married and became Duchesses and Countesses. Mary Seton even stayed with Mary (the Queen) while she was imprisoned, all the way until Queen Mary's execution.

My first question, as a girl who has been though Middle School, is how could all five girls get along so well? Some may say that it is obvious this friendship has been wrongly glorified; they didn't really like each other, the Four Marys were all jealous of the Queen Mary, etc. But all the historical evidence points to the five of them actually being ridiculously close friends. Which begs me to ask the question: are there some friendships that are just that extraordinary? And am I a part of one of those myself?

I'm seventeen, and I'm a senior. Ergo, I'm going to college next year. My two best friends and I are not applying to any of the same schools. Not one. We've already had a few, oddly emotional conversations about leaving each other next year. Being the optimist I am, I'm placating my anxiety by choosing to believe that there are extraordinary friendships, and that I have one. Going to college is a terrifying experience for the most psychologically stable of us — the classes, the parties, the people, the professors, the homework, the papers, the roommates, the laundry. But what most people struggle with the most, like my friends and me, is leaving behind the support system you have been carefully crafting since Kindergarten and before. Leaving behind the people you know. The people you love. But, over all else, we fear losing touch, being out of sight and out of mind.

But honestly, if Mary Queen of Scots and her Four Marys could do it in the 16th century, we should be able to stay connected in the age of Facebook and texting. Right...?

< Histrophile >

Meet me: Histrophile

I’m pretty sure that “histrophile” isn’t a real word. I think I just made it up. But the more and more I think about it, the more and more I realize that it is a great word to describe myself - a great way to brand my blogging avatar on the internet - because it clearly outlines what this blog is going to be about.

I hope that the name “histrophile” denotes that I love history, because I do. I’ve been enamored with it ever since I can remember. And there is one very embarrassing, but very illuminating story I must tell to illustrate my adoration for everyone in the blogging community who doesn’t know me personally.

In the living room of my house, we have floor to ceiling book shelves covering one of the walls. When I was in elementary school - I was probably eight or nine - I dragged a kitchen chair and two laundry baskets into the living room, stacked them one on top of the other, and climbed to the very top of the tower so that I could retrieve A History of the British Monarchy to read. It may come as no surprise that I proceeded to lose my footing and plummet to the ground from the top of the second laundry basket. But, I got to read the entire book, (in secret because my mom told me I wasn’t allowed to) so I think of it as a tradeoff.

This blog is a year-long, out of the box, sort of open-ended assignment for my high school English class. I chose to use history as my “lens” for three reasons. First, the obvious, as I’ve already articulated too many times, I love history. Ergo, writing a blog about it will bring me some personal happiness. The second reason is that I am a senior this year, and my “plan” at this point in time is to study history in college in hopes of becoming a history teacher or professor. If I am going to be teaching students about history later in life, I need to learn how to make it relevant and informative and interesting for the average Zhou (Chinese history pun…) who isn’t the history nerd that I am. Writing this blog will, with any luck, help teach me to do just that. The third and final reason is that I think history is a window into the past and a message for the future. I am a strong believer in the ideology that history is perpetually relevant and should never be forgotten. And blogging is a way I can broadcast that to the world.

Future posts will follow a somewhat kitschy, yet somewhat helpful, structure. I plan on each post being centered around a short profile of some historical person, or group of people, or event. Then I plan on relating that person, group of people, or event to something modern - be it a current event in the news, a social issue, a topic brought up in a novel or movie, etc.

My wish for this blog is that it will become the breeding ground for intellectual and worldly discussion - a place where people can virtually come to bump heads and have discourse on historical and modern topics. I may only be 17 years old, but I hope people will find my thoughts reflective, analytical, and original. Most of all, I hope that choosing history to focus on for this blog won’t cause me to take a tumble and fall flat on my face as it did many years ago.

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