“Stories are for joining the past to the future. Stories are for those late hours in the night when you can’t remember how you got from where you were to where you are. Stories are for eternity, when memory is erased, when there is nothing left to remember except the story.”~ Tim O’Brien
The HT turns 141 this week, which is the kind of milestone that really makes you stop and think about the past and the future.
When the first issue of this newspaper was published in 1885, Mark Twain had just published Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. The Washington Monument had just been dedicated. The Statue of Liberty was arriving in New York Harbor in hundreds of pieces, waiting to be put together. Louis Pasteur was giving the world’s first successful rabies vaccine to a 9-year-old boy. Coca-Cola didn’t exist yet!
And here in Meeker, Mr. Lyttle decided to start a newspaper.
So, that’s the past. This week, I’ve also found myself pondering where we will be in another 141 years. This is partly because, as I have probably mentioned entirely too much, we are going through a period of grief and loss. This is when my dark and twisty really likes to shine, so thanks for bearing with me. I hold onto hope that there are brighter days ahead.
Now back to our imagination. In 141 years, it will be 2167. You and I and everyone we’ve ever known will be deader than a door nail (unless the whole cryogenesis thing works out. I have my doubts).
What will remain of us?
In the past, bits and pieces of our story were recorded on tangible items. First there were tablets (as in, the rock kind), scrolls (not the thing you do with your thumbs), and then paper.
Now, most of our stories are living in a “cloud.” Nothing against clouds, but I can’t help but feel a little trepidatious about it.
There are parts, of course, that are fantastic. For example, I can create a newspaper without having to pull each individual piece of lead type out, line it up, stamp it down, repeat, repeat, repeat. I can take a photograph without having to make people sit perfectly still and cross my fingers that the shot turns out (anyone who has tried to take a family photo with kids knows this is an impossible feat).
These are great and amazing things, but at the same time, I worry that if we are not very, very careful, today’s technology will take all of the time and energy and talent and tenaciousness it takes to tell a story and make it seem meaningless. Commonplace. Easy to erase.
Just like human connection, stories need to be anchored to something tangible to be truly remembered. Something that isn’t subject to the whims of a social media overlord or the push of the Delete button. I really, truly think that’s print.
After all, there are some things you just can’t get from a cloud.