“It was great, except we couldn’t find the picture of the eight-legged pig.”
Yes, this actually came from my mother’s mouth last week. My parents had just returned from a boat cruise of the Ukraine and, ever the history buffs, they started by recounting their favorite part – the museums.
As my mom went on about deformed farm animals, my dad nodded, but I just stared, dumbfounded.
That’s because I was four years old when Chernobyl exploded.
I knew the broad strokes of the 1986 disaster, but my high school history texts didn’t go past World War II, and certainly didn’t include graphic photos of the nuclear explosion’s impact on people, crops and animals. I also had no idea that the Soviet Union kept mum about the meltdown until a radioactive plume arrived over Scandinavia.
The day after I saw my parents, I was listening to an NPR story on Iran’s nuclear power ambitions while doing my morning yoga. In Downward Dog, it hit me: When American leaders think about nuclear power, the Chernobyl disaster – consciously or unconsciously – is part of what they’re thinking about. The incident came in the formative years of many of their careers. Not having the memory to frame my worldview put me at a distinct disadvantage in understanding and reporting on the politics the issue today.
It’s not the first time that my age, combined with my poor knowledge of history, has left me floundering as a young reporter.
Washington is a town of historians. Politicians love to place themselves in the footsteps of great leaders. In learning strategy, military officers study battles from generations ago and frequently explain contemporary challenges through a retrospective lens. From NGO presidents to CIA officials, I can tell you, no interview is safe from historical harkening.
Which is why I’m brushing up.
For all you overstretched young reporters out there, here are some clever ways to slip those history lessons in, while having a little fun and improving your journalistic skills along the way:
- Read “Assassination Vacation,” then take one of your own. With her “This American Life” brand of wry humor, Sarah Vowell makes the granular details of presidential assassination hilarious in “Assassination Vacation.” The book chronicles her trips to just about every site related to America’s first three presidential murders: Abraham Lincoln, James Garfield and William McKinley. When you’ve turned the last page, grab a map and a quirky best friend and plan your own morbid historical getaway.
- Shuffle your Netflix list. Wouldn’t you love to justify your TV on DVD habit by calling it research? The Tudors may be your Sunday night candy, but it could also come in handy on that Monday morning interview. Check out this list of history-based films.
- Pick your passion, then trace it back. I’ve got a fashion designer friend who can’t turn down an exhibit on period clothes. She might go for the trends and the patterns, but she walks out knowing about the people and the eras that produced them, too. Find the thing that sparks your curiosity and dig in.
- Make friends at the American Legion hall. For some on-the-ground perspective, hear it from the vets. When I needed some local voices for a story on an oil refinery last winter, I wandered into an American Legion hall on a Saturday afternoon. Three hours later, I had the color for my article, but also an earful of stories that made Vietnam more real than ten hours with a text book.
- Hunt out the ghouls. Once you hear the story about a ghost of a British soldier running the halls of Congress, you won’t soon forget that the British burned the Capitol building when they invaded Washington in 1814. The ghosts may not be real, but most of the history you get on a ghost tour is. Here’s a list of tours in DC.
- Look to your own forefathers. Politicians and military leaders learn from their predecessor, and so should you. Reading the great journalists of yesteryear will not only sharpen your own reporting skills, it will also bring you up to speed on the top issues of their day. Try this collection of New York Times Pulitzer-winning stories from the 20th century.