Where Did It Begin?

I think about heritage more days than not. Ideas surrounding what we inherited from the past (and the heritage we will leave to the future) fill my head. So much so that in the busiest stage of my life, I decided to start writing again. The desire for others to realize we can live better, steward better, and create something far more wonderful to leave our children is pushing me in new directions, professionally and personally. Writing out where my interest in all this came from has helped me understand myself a bit better. Sharing it here. 

When Did This Passion Start?

I thought it was in Greenland. In 2021, I had the opportunity to attend Greenland Science Week and travel around this Arctic country. While there, I interviewed and connected with Greenlanders as a part of a small team. My work was meant to focus on tangible heritage (think, really old sites and archaeological artifacts). This is what archaeologists typically care about. But what really captured my attention was actually something else.

I discovered the intangible past. I had always respected its importance but did little to learn more about it. And I certainly didn’t realize it was just as (if not more) impactful. Intangible heritage includes traditions, knowledge of craft, ancient practices, longstanding rituals...things that require an understanding of something we cannot physically touch. Like artifacts and heirlooms, they too are passed through time, but in a very different way. Their survival across generations is dependent on very different factors (soil chemistry not a major concern here). This type of heritage clearly connected communities in Greenland. It provided meaning and happiness in a way I don't think physical artifacts do. In a harsh environment like the Arctic Circle, intangible heritage also provided the knowledge of how to survive (and thrive) in an extreme environment.   
​
It was in Greenland I got to explore the meaning of both tangible and intangible heritage at a new level. I could see just how meaningful they both were, especially in the face of significant future change.

This is where I thought my passion for heritage beyond artifacts, history beyond academic study, was born. 

Boarding the plane to Greenland in October 2021

But recently I started to wonder if that’s the whole truth.

I spent most summers of my 20s in Romania, an Eastern European country I still insist is the best kept secret in Europe. Romania is a land of stunning beauty, filled with rich heritage and tradition. Medieval mountain and plain towns dot idyllic countrysides. Places look ancient, but that doesn’t mean you can’t easily find air-conditioned hotels and excellent wifi. Modern industries coexist with antiquated ones. Cars share the road with horse-drawn carts, both willing to stop for a hitchhiking grandma (surprisingly common).
​
Romania helped me see how lovely keeping the old ways can be. While poverty is an unfortunate explanation for some of the traditional ways, there was also a culture-wide desire to elevate these links to the past. There was a clear interest in protecting heritage, tangible and intangible, while still building a modern economy. During my years in Romania, I could see the past and the present trying to merge in a way that really impacted me.

While I spent most of my time in Romania, work in the region allowed me to experience the heritage of places like Hungary, Croatia, and Russia as well. Their shared history as former Eastern Bloc countries resulted in a slower conversion to modernity. This had some pleasant (if unintended) results, preserving even more historical spaces and lifeways than the Western side of the continent. My time in these places very much shaped my ideas and love of heritage. 

So... I really can't say my passion started years later in the Arctic. 

A 2016 photo I took in Romania

Greenland and Romania are obvious answers for where my deep interest in heritage was activated. Likewise, I could point to other places I visited as a student or archaeologist (excavations on a Spanish island, the Swedish countryside, the Ohio River Valley; travel to Greece and Italy). But as I explore my own history, I think my interest actually started far earlier. I wonder whether my love was born much closer (and less exotic): the two places my parents were born.

Growing up, I spent a lot of time visiting relatives where my ancestors had set down roots. This was a small town on the Pennsylvania border of New York State for my mother's side. On my father’s side, it was the North Country, the farthest reaches of New York State before you enter Canada. I loved traveling to these places and not just to visit family. There was something older in both, something that felt decidedly different.

I do think that, even as a little kid, I was aware my family had lived in these places for generations. That creates a clear feeling of connection. But other elements of small-town life drew me in as well, those that reflect how people lived for generations. Mom-and-pop stores thrived. Businesses like Ted Clark's Busy Market feature more prominently in my childhood memory than a grocery store should. These places had true downtowns, neighbors known to each other, and overall strong communities. These characteristics that have defined small towns and Rural America for generations were noticeable to me, even as a kid. I loved them.
​
So perhaps it was there that my interest was born. In these places where the past ways were still prominent.

Where I couldn't go for a drive without being shown my great-grandparent’s farmhouse or the spot of my great-grandfather's prohibition bar.

Where neighbors and friends had decades of connection.

Where kids at the community pool knew your family had so many generations in one place, they could charge your grandma's tab at the snack shack without anyone noticing.

Where businesses were so loved they never needed to update ascetically. It felt like stepping back in time when you passed through their doors.

While others might see these places as too stuck in the past, I loved them. I think this is where it all started for me, something I truly didn’t appreciate until recently.  

My family planting new growth on old family land in the North Country. Heritage from the past shaped to ensure heritage for the future.

Final Thoughts.

Reflecting on where it all began is interesting (if only to me). But regardless of why or where, this is the work I am meant to do. I want to encourage people to look back, while they are looking forward. I want to keep building a life and a career that prioritizes a return to things forgotten or abandoned and find ways to combine them with the modern world. This was the focus of so much of my past work and will remain a priority for my future.
​
I think heritage is a solution for so many problems. It's a path that can bring individuals and entire communities great happiness. In a world where the future is at our doorstep, and everything threatens to change, I am here to push back a bit. 

I want to remind people, companies, local municipalities, anyone who will listen that we have inherited much and have the capacity to protect and promote it.

This doesn’t mean we should halt development. We can protect heritage and we can build it. Modernity AND tradition, the latter inspiring the former and making sure change feels good to the humans who will live with it. If we put heritage and history on the table and amplify what humans have already created, the world will feel more aligned.  Plow ahead without considering this heritage, however, will leave us lost. We will continue on disconnected from who we are and where we came from. Not much good can come from that.

Luckily, there’s another way.

Lead photo: an Adirondack sunrise from this spring. Heading to the mountains often causes spontaneous reflections on life and work.