Popular media in the 70’s and early 80’s did not uniformly reflect a kaleidoscope of cultures - the most prominent and consistent staple being a popular family comedian who shall no longer be named. The watershed moment came in 1977, when ABC aired the mini-series “ROOTS”, based on the personal genealogy research of author Alex Haley.

Everybody watched that. I felt kind of exposed the day after each episode, coming to school and having my pre-the-invention-of-the-internet classmates ask me follow-up questions, because I didn’t know my family history past who was at the table at Thanksgiving Dinner.

The book and the television event sparked a flurry of interest in family trees, where soon many folks discovered that history was a dangerous playground: relative after relative was newly discovered, the names stacking to create a game of DNA “JENGA”, piled higher and higher until CRASH!, they hit a super embarrassing fourth uncle that did something incredibly illegal or stupid.

But Alex Haley’s family was brave and engaging and excellent television; while the show was clearly a dramatization of informed yet imagined scenes, no one assumed (as they might today) that he just made the whole thing up. It was an historical drama.

I mean, I was only ten, but it never occurred to me that anybody could “make up” history, because there were black and white movies of it happening, and pictures, and books, all the way back to stone tablets. History could be interpreted, maybe re-told, but you couldn’t “make up” something that already happened! That was absurd. Even with a TARDIS.

History is pretty straightforward: right after any event happens, we immediately tell the story of it, then move forward in time, away from the event, until only that story remains.

I assumed that the world had come to terms with history: it wasn’t always fun, necessarily, but you couldn’t just ignore it. That would be like saying “yesterday didn’t happen”.

Which would be nuts.

While the basics of American l’arnin’ are readin’, writin’, and ‘rithmatic, it turns out the most important field of study could indeed be history, which perhaps didn’t make the opening lineup due to its lack of a “r” sound at the beginning. (Art is also missing from the list, which is incredibly mysterious as it sits firmly within the “r” sound family.)

In terms of societal hubbub, writing and math cause less trouble than reading, which has always been a flashpoint in some parts of the world (who is allowed to, what are they allowed to, etc.). Yet, of all common core curriculum, currently the study (or even mere mention) of HISTORY can spark the most deeply intense and fury laden reactions, culminating in the surprising idea that we might not need it at all. Amnesia as generational therapy.

“How bad was it?”

“I… I can’t remember!”

“Well, that’s you sorted then. Two hundred dollars.”

Imagine that… History, taken permanently out of play, just warming the bench with Art. And Science (who’s also missing that “r” sound).

I mention this because here in the States it’s the 100th anniversary of Black History Month, the celebration of which inspired the establishment of this very column. I have, by virtue of my age, celebrated all Black History Months and 10 Negro History Weeks, back before 1976.

The whole thing was started by Carter G. Woodson, prominent scholar of the early 20th century, who absolutely loved history. He studied it in both high school and university, eventually joining the prestigious American Historical Society, though he couldn’t attend the meetings in person. And by couldn’t, I’m implying that he wasn’t allowed to. And by implying, I’m actually just telling you that they wouldn’t let him in the front door or even on the stoop in front of the front door, because it was 1915 and he was African-American by heritage and tonal hue (they did let him pay the full dues, though).

Unsatisfied with this experience, Mr. Woodson started his own historical society, founded an academic Journal (that’s still being published to this day) and wrote many history books.

This man, whose parents had been slaves, became the second African American to get a PhD from Harvard (W.E.B. Dubois was the first, if you’re playing along at home). Carter G. Woodson, widely known as the father of Black history.

Never heard of him. They absolutely never told us about him in school. I knew SO many things about the peanut, but honestly, nothing of Mr. Woodson.

Stories only work when we hear them.

Categories of Black History Month stories that I DID hear:

* The First Black [insert profession or achievement here] This was never my favorite group of stories because it was depressing; clearly reflecting what the experience of being Black felt like - demonstrating that it was exceptional to be able to do what someone else had already done if one considers that the first achiever had NOT been burdened with the experience of being Black. It always reminded me of the description of the often under-appreciated Ginger Rogers, who “always perfectly performed every single dance move that Fred Astaire did, only backward and in high heels” (yaas queen).

* Perseverance. This was the family staple - tales of men and women who might not have been able to take many steps forward, but stood their ground and didn’t move back. I was taught that this was a key element of our family crest, along with gratitude, humor, and kindness.

* Inventors. The BEST. All the household objects and incredible machines and technologies that Black people had engineered - a lot of those objects the direct result of the experience of being Black; less money, contacts, and resources meant they had to be super clever. Now I identified with this - still do: the closest I ever came to being in a society of Black Mad Scientists is when I was asked to speak at the 50th anniversary of MIT’s Black Union. Four literal rocket scientists were in the audience… from NASA. It was like Wakanda up in there.

But the most important category was

* Family. My grandmother was filled with cautionary tales. Between the long lists of who not to meddle with and who not to talk to and who to watch out for were glimpses into how she and my grandfather forged their identities in direct opposition to their given societal roles. Then my mother told me all about growing up with siblings through the 40’s and 50’s, which was fascinating, and always made me super extra happy to be an only child.

That first Negro History Week must have been rough. But without someone determined to tell those stories they would have been lost forever. Yet after a full century, such stories still need to be protected.

What happens when a segment of society becomes disconnected from history and disinterested in legacy? Are they truly free from the past? And how far back does that go? Does that mean that everyone is going to forget the thing that happened when you were seven years old and stop bringing it up at family functions? Do we forgive parking tickets after a year or so?

ROOTS will be 50 years old next year, and due to its subject matter the show might spark deep controversy if it was aired today: not so much because it’s Black as that it depicts history.

Maybe we could call it “hist’ry”. At least it would have the apostrophe.

In 1977, Alex Haley rolled through Kansas City on his book tour and stopped at our church because he was (big surprise) related to someone there. After church there was a reception at the relative’s house, and he signed books, and he took photographs with people.

My mother found the picture of me, my grandfather, and him. I was wearing my Sears™ Optical Department glasses and an exciting new shade of beige and I wanted to be an author. Here I was, standing with an author who had written a real (and really thick) book. I was a little overwhelmed.

But I would never give up who I was then, and all that’s happened since. I recognize that I owe the fruit of my labor to the stability of my own roots, and the journey from there to here, where I’ve learned from my mistakes and built a narrative for not only my future, but someone else’s.

That kid turned out ok.

Though I should get writing -

…I think I owe him a book.

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