Today we surround ourselves with things "historic" for many reasons. Many communities experience conflict over attempts to preserve historic neighborhoods. Some people collect antiques as investments. To others, old objects provide a sense of emotional attachment. These things may also help us appreciate the craftsmanship of yesteryear.

What do we mean when we call something "historic?" One common definition describes human societies as "historic" after they have abandoned oral traditions and adopted written records. These early records can include chronicles, business inventories, or genealogies. Given that definition, then anything before that time is called "pre-historic."

One of the most enjoyable aspects of life is speaking before schools, churches, social groups, and retirement communities throughout Centre County. Two questions often pop up, especially among younger listeners: "Why bother studying history? What impact could history possibly have in my life?"

Every educator’s job is to infuse students with a passion for his subject. The word "history," after all, comes from the Greek word for "inquiry." But passion in the history field begins with asking questions about our experiences and surroundings. Nothing escapes the process. "Why are fossilized seashells found in these mountains?" "Are there really Indian burial mounds around here?" "What does the course of this road tell us about the people who constructed it and how its use has changed over time?" "Why is this house shaped the way it is and why were these materials used?"

Objects and ideas only make sense when we interpret them by placing them within a context: "What can this tool tell us about its time and place of origin?" "How have our perceptions of popular democracy changed?" The unfortunate conflict in deciding public policy arises when we confuse "historical" with "unchanging." The most rewarding part comes when the answers to our questions begin skewering our personal preconceptions.

Years ago, my wife asked her father, "Hey, Pop, if your parents could come back, what would they think of people today?"

My father-in-law thought long and hard. His parents were born when Rutherford B. Hayes was President. "They would think people were out of their minds!" he exclaimed. "People spend good money to hang dirty old barn wood and tools in their living rooms? Oxen yokes, manure forks, scythes, and cradles. And they probably don’t even know how to use them!"

Every day historians strive to see the world with new eyes. Armed with some answers, guided by a critical thought process, and tempered with an appreciation for the role of human folly, we look for connections and long-term patterns of behavior.

Last year I was in a restaurant and noticed a vintage early-60s Cadillac hanging from the ceiling. I asked the waiter if he thought, while growing up, that he would ever work in a place with such an ornament as a focal point.

""Nah," he replied with a chuckle.

"What do you think your grandchildren will be hanging in their living rooms?" I asked. "Ever wonder what stuff they’ll drag to the Antiques Roadshow?"

"I don’t know," he said. The grin grew on his face. "What?"

"Weed eaters, lawn mowers, and plastic milk jugs. Why not? Think about it. What will happen when we come up with a material that’s even cheaper and more versatile than plastic? Tupperware will be tomorrow’s Fiesta Ware and carnival glass. Heck, you may want to save that plastic sandwich bag. You never know how much it will bring some day. Might even triple in value if a sandwich is still in it."

It is especially gratifying to see junior and senior high school students participating in the National History Day in Pennsylvania competition held every May at Penn State. Young people from all over the Commonwealth learn that collecting objects and information is only a first step. The goal is for them to learn the difference between identifying an object or event (the "what") and interpreting its relevance to their own lives (the "so-what?")

The process helps these budding historians weigh, sift, and measure the evidence at hand. They learn to see why things are the way they are and to appreciate the role of change. This leads to better questions, and, in turn, to better decisions. When we cultivate this ability and carry it over into life’s myriad pathways, we all benefit as members of the world community.

Bruce Teeple is a free-lance writer, speaker and local historian and is writing a book about Prince Farrington. He lives in Aaronsburg, Centre County and can be reached at mongopawn44@hotmail.com