My love affair

I have been married for just over 18 years now, but since 1998 I have also been having a torrid affair. Her name is Clio.
Now hold on, if you are gasping in shock or shaking your head judgmentally. Clio is a figure from Greek Mythology, she is the Muse of History.
I didnt know I loved history untill 1998 when I attended my first Mountain Man rendezvous, and I was instantly hooked.
I think that I would have discovered this about myself much sooner in life if I had ever been under the care of a good History teacher, but unfortunately I never was. In my opinion a good history teacher is someone who loves, lives and breathes history, but is also engaging enough to keep young minds interested. I vaugely rememebr Mr. Barker in Jr. High tring to get us to memorize the Mayflower Compact but his horrible toupe was just to distracting. Mr. Thomas in High school seemed a nice enough sort but his heart just wasnt in it, I think he was really a wrestling coach or somthing.
I think the seeds of my obsession were there early on, if only I'd had a teacher recogninze it and help me see it, too. In the sixth grade I formed the "Crooked Arrow Archaeology Club" with two other classmates and we wrote a letter to President Carter asking for the Government to fund a trip for us to visit the ruins in Mesa Verde, Arizona. I told the other two members that we were a shoe in, because Carter seemed to be giving money away to everyone, after all they were saying the country was broke, werent they? I even told them that we would be provided with machetes to hack our way through the jungles of Arizona and New Mexico just like Indiana Jones.
Jimmy sent us a letter telling us the gob'ment didnt have a program like that, but he did send us a really nifty autographed photo of himself. The photo was not as interesting as machetes so the other two members drifted away and quit the club.
Anyway, once I realized where my passion lay I was already married with two children, and by now its probably way to late in my life to persue a degree in my field. But nontheless, I still consider myself a historian. When you spend as much of your life as I do studying the subject, is hard not to.
With me, history has actually become something of an obsession. I somtimes feel more connected to people who lived 200 years ago to people I know today.
The famous historian Stephen Ambrose, author of Undaunted Courage and Band of Brothers,among others, once camped out next to the grave of Meriwether Lewis. In the middle of the night a police officer arrived and told him he would have to move on. He is reported to have said "Officer, you've got to understand; I'm in love with this man." The cop let him stay.
Now some people, in particular a certain venerable yet crumudgeonly cabinet maker I happen to know, may say that this is further proof that Lewis was gay;(Even though there is no historical support for this popular theory), but I simply see it as proof that Ambrose might just understand where I am coming from. There is a "Creed of Living History" that says is part, "I cannot seperate what has happened in the past from my own life, because to me it seems as though it just happened last week.". I get that. These people are as real to me as anyone that I might bump into at work today, some of them more so.
History just isnt something I do, it's what I am.
To seperaste me from history would be like cutting off my arms and legs. This might seem freakish to some of you, but I know quite a few freaks just like me who like nothing more than to dress, talk, and live as though we were in another time. At some public "living history" events I have attended, I have seen the public walk thorugh with a confused look on thier face, as though they are wondering why in blue blazes these people are acting like it is the year 18something. Well guess what, public? We on the other side in old, smoky smelling clothes, with bacon grease on our fingers and black powder on our lips, are just as confused about you. We are wondering why in blue blazes you don't do it?