History major here. Working on a research paper about local immigrant communities in the 1920s. Been digging through the university archives for weeks. Old newspapers. Census records. City directories. Good stuff, but dry.
Then today, I found a box of personal letters. Donated by someone's family years ago. Never been digitized. Probably never been read by anyone outside the family. And inside, a letter from a young immigrant to his mother back in Italy. Dated 1923.
He writes about the cold. About missing her cooking. About the job at the factory that pays "more than a year's work back home." About hoping to save enough to bring his little sister over. About being lonely but hopeful. So hopeful.
I sat in the archive reading it and literally had tears in my eyes. This person. Real. Alive once. Scared and hopeful and lonely. And I'm the one holding his words 100 years later. Holding his story.
This is why I love history. Not the dates and names and events. The people. The tiny moments. The letters no one was supposed to read.
My research paper just got a lot more personal. And a lot more meaningful. Anyone else ever had a moment like this with a primary source? When history stopped being abstract and became real?
Then today, I found a box of personal letters. Donated by someone's family years ago. Never been digitized. Probably never been read by anyone outside the family. And inside, a letter from a young immigrant to his mother back in Italy. Dated 1923.
He writes about the cold. About missing her cooking. About the job at the factory that pays "more than a year's work back home." About hoping to save enough to bring his little sister over. About being lonely but hopeful. So hopeful.
I sat in the archive reading it and literally had tears in my eyes. This person. Real. Alive once. Scared and hopeful and lonely. And I'm the one holding his words 100 years later. Holding his story.
This is why I love history. Not the dates and names and events. The people. The tiny moments. The letters no one was supposed to read.
My research paper just got a lot more personal. And a lot more meaningful. Anyone else ever had a moment like this with a primary source? When history stopped being abstract and became real?