Recently I was doing more research for my current work-in-progress the is set in 1867. (Yes, it’s drafted. Yes, I’m heavily into editing. And yes, I’m still researching arcane issues.) I came across a tidbit of information I hadn’t focused on before, and it got me thinking about how 1867 wasn’t that long ago, at least by some measures.
In a list of events that happened in 1867, I read that Laura Ingalls Wilder, author of the Little House books about pioneer life, was born that year. I think the first book in the series, Little House in the Big Woods, took place in 1871, when she was four years old. I read that book and the rest of the series when I was about seven or eight, and her books colored my early perceptions of life on the frontier, which in some ways influence my novels today. (There are debates over Wilder’s depictions of Native Americans and her descriptions of some events, but there is no doubt that she had great influence on many people’s views of pioneer life.)
Laura Ingalls Wilder died in 1957 at the age of 90. I was alive in 1957 (though not yet able to read). Our lives overlapped by a little less than a year, but our lives did overlap. That means there is only one degree of separation in our life spans.
I wrote several years ago about there being two degrees of separation between me and the Oregon Trail. My great-great-great-grandfather, Permenus Petronius Hooker, took the Oregon Trail in 1848, and his life overlapped with that of my great-grandfather, Thomas Benton Hooker. My life overlapped with my great-grandfather’s—hence, I am two degrees of separation my family’s history on the Oregon Trail.
As I ponder these connections, I realize that time is relative—in more ways than that in which Einstein theorized. We can say that the century and a half since 1867 is a long time, or we can say that someone born in 1867 had a pretty direct influence on my life. We can say that the early days of the Oregon Trail were roughly 175 years ago, or we can say that I knew a relative who knew another ancestor who traveled that trail and filed an early land claim in Oregon. In the overall length of human existence, the era since the settlement of the American West is but an eye-blink in the past.
And time is relative in other directions as well. Wouldn’t we all say that life has changed immeasurably since March 2020, just two and a half years ago? Even if we are returning to “normal” activities now, the way we think about our safety in public places will never be the same. And the world changed even faster—in the space of hours—for Americans on September 11, 2001.
As a writer of historical fiction, I feel the relativity of time whenever I work on my books. I see how similar people of the 19th century were to how we are today. Writing about the past illuminates the present.
When do you feel connections to times long ago?
A historical fiction writer myself, I realize that people are people no matter when they live. Oh, yes, there’s a difference in speech, culture, dress, activities, and a myriad of other things, but everyone has a fear, a flaw, a want, can get wounded, may believe a lie, has reasons for doing things, and values.
All true! People haven’t changed much throughout recorded history. Thanks for the reminder.
Theresa
I didn’t realize Laura Ingalls Wilder had such a long lifespan. Her books sparked my interest in frontier history. I’ve got a fascination with the Civil War and Victorian era. Can’t explain it but when I tour a battlefield or historic site, I want to bridge time and interact with what occurred then.
My husband is the one in our family with the interest in battlefields. I’ve made several treks to Civil War battlefields and various forts. The only one I really enjoyed was Gettysburg. That was really well done, in terms of helping visitors visualize what happened.
Theresa
Steven Pinker, among others, might disagree about whether human nature changes. (See, for example, The Better Angels of Our Nature.)