How Very Lucky We Are

Today’s draft will be left in the hands of David McCullough, one of the greatest American historians of our time.

I accidentally found a book of his at Barnes & Noble yesterday that I didn’t know existed— perhaps because it had been released exactly ten days prior.

It’s called History Matters, and it’s a collection of essays written throughout his life, centered around the importance of history and why we should learn it to understand our current times.

McCullough passed away at the age of 89 three years ago. But his legacy lives on through his works and through his people, including his daughter and his longtime researcher, who edited this book in honor of his life.

As a great historian and an even greater storyteller, David McCullough left us works I feel fortunate to have picked up. Yet, the release of this book feels almost preordained: at a time when I believe learning history is important now more than ever, and at a time when I’m incredibly passionate about history, having access to History Matters makes me feel like I’m on the right track.

As someone who’s becoming a storyteller, I see this book as encouragement on the path I’ve chosen, giving me permission to do what I said I would do. In my case, I’m someone who lives in two closely connected worlds: the American world and the Mexican world.

At first, I saw myself as an outsider in both worlds, having neither a place to fit in nor a home, but now I’ve realized I’m actually the connector between them. I have the power to translate stories and discover new ones.

There’s too much history to let it pass by. Such stories need to be shared.

As I finished the first chapter of McCullough’s posthumous book, I confirmed that my feelings were right: it almost feels as though this book arrived at my feet for a reason, at this very point in my life when I needed it most. His words serve not only as history but as a reminder, even a charge, to carry the stories forward.

“There’s no secret to making history come alive. Barbara Tuchman said it perfectly: “Tell stories.” The pull, the appeal, is irresistible, because history is about two of the greatest mysteries— time and human nature.
How lucky we are. How lucky we are to enjoy in our work and in our lives the possibilities, the precision and reach, the glories of the English language. How lucky we are, how very lucky we are, to live in this great country, to be Americans— Americans all.”

Reading those words, I couldn’t help but think: how lucky I am, too, to be alive at this moment, standing between two worlds, given the task of telling their stories before history passes them by.