I was in the eaves of my house the other day. I don't go in there very often, but I keep
old furniture in there, and had some items I wanted to tuck away. I should've looked first, but I went in head
first and got a faceful of spider webs.
Ick, ack, yuck!
I swept it out and stored the furniture, plus discovered
about 100 years of Grandpa's National Geographics. I thought back to lazy days on his porch, listening to old folks
talk about the usual things while I looked at African women's breasts, Indian
women's nose rings, Eskimo's harpoons, South American pyramids, and Russian
mummies.
My sister thought the nose ring was very cool and wanted
one. Dad said something decisively
prohibitive. I said it wasn't very
practical since it had a golden chain looped to an earring. Picture climbing a tree with a chain hanging
out of your face! What if you got in a
fight and your opponent had a ring? I
vividly imagined a bleeding nose and decided this kind of jewelry was
foolishness. Sis understood suffering
for beauty. I rejected the
concept. If the number of people with
nose rings these days mean anything, more people think like Sis these days. She was clearly a trend setter.
I know I'm not alone in having my world expanded by National
Geographic. I looked into the eyes of
people far away and felt their humanity even though I lived in a lily white
area and the only black person I'd met was Santa Claus. I saw women archeologists, deep sea divers,
anthropologists, and animal watchers and knew I could grow up to be whatever I
wanted to be.
A friend of mine rejected a job offer with National
Geographic. As a photographer, how
could he possibly walk away from such an opportunity?! "I didn't want to lay on my belly in a
swamp for weeks just to get the perfect photo of an alligator staring me in the
eyes." Well, I suppose that makes
sense. But still, I'm glad somebody is
willing to do it. My world was larger
and more inclusive because of their sacrifices.
I talked with someone about selling Grandpa's magazines
once. I was told everyone saved their
National Geographics, so there really isn't much value to them. Financial value that is, because I still
value being able to look at them.
They're beautiful and they make me 10 years old again on Grandpa's front
porch with the delicious aroma of Grandma cooking lunch wafting in. I'd be willing to sell the
really early magazines before photos though.
There's also something beautiful in the fact that many
people saved their collections. I'm
glad so many appreciated expanding their worlds through the work of scientists,
writers, and photographers. It was
worth a faceful of spider webs in my eaves to remind me of their efforts.
There's been much talk of bigotry and chauvinism this week. Maybe more people need to
dust off their pile of National Geographics and look into the eyes of people
who might look different, but are humans with feelings, hopes, and dreams?
