Don’t let history die, write it down

Two guys with 30 years between them — who’ve only recently met — said almost the exact same thing to me. Mike McCormick, assistant superintendent at Oakmont (Pa.) CC said to me about the restoration of the course, “I felt like I was a part of history.”

A week later, discussing a future issue of the magazine, Golfdom contributor Karl Danneberger, Ph.D., said to me, “The good thing about getting old — if you can remember things — is you become a part of history.”

The coincidence struck me because I’ve been thinking about history lately, with Oakmont on the verge of hosting its ninth U.S. Open. I was thinking about the history I’ve seen, the history I’ve seen and forgotten and the history that’s died.

First, the history I’ve seen: I rolled through the gates at Oakmont CC last month to get to work on this month’s cover story. The last time I was there was for my first U.S. Open, when Oakmont hosted the tournament in 2007.

Some memories came back right away… even the parking lot brought back memories. Hard to believe that was my first U.S. Open. I’ve been to four of the last five Opens, but Oakmont will always be my first.

It felt like old times visiting with John Zimmers Jr. and Dave Delsandro. I feel lucky to have survived in this industry long enough to “come back” to Oakmont, even though it had been only nine years since its last U.S. Open.

The history I’ve forgotten? It comes back in flashes, sometimes telling stories over beers, but most often when I go back and read past stories, particularly blog posts.

I went back and re-read the blog posts I wrote in 2007 when I was at that U.S. Open reporting for my previous employer. (You can check out those posts by clicking over to gcm.typepad.com and clicking on June 2007.) At the time I was writing about whatever I could, because it all seemed so important. And then time fades away and it seems trivial, until I come back and I’m suddenly happy I took the time to write it all down back then.

Delsandro mentioned to me that from time to time he still reads those old blog posts as a reminder of what they accomplished. It’s cool for me, to paraphrase McCormick and Danneberger, to be a part of history — at least Oakmont’s history.

And what about the history that dies? I think about how many of the interesting stories my dad told me when I was growing up, about him playing high school basketball in Indiana in the 1960s, or working in the old steel mills in the 1970s. Those stories mostly died with him, unless my sister and I try to cobble them together when we’re with each other. Even then, the tales lack detail, they’re half forgotten.

Which brings me back to the blog and writing these things down. It might seem trivial at the time, but in hindsight, the stories, the emotions, the details are valuable, especially in hindsight.

The same can be said about any day, for any of us. What might seem like a trivial thought today could strike us as profound 10 years later.

Have you ever come across an old to-do list and shaken your head at what was on it? About a third of the list is still haunting you, a third you laugh at because it’s a distant memory you’re happy to be done with it, and the last third seems completely trivial.

That’s the way it goes for me, at least.

It’s my job to write things down. But even if it wasn’t, I can’t help but see the value in it.

Don’t let your history die. Take the time—write it down.