Living History: When You Realize You’re the History Lesson

I was just trying to get my leg stretched out—who knew I’d end up feeling like a walking history book?

Let me explain.

One of the joys (and I use that word loosely) of having MS is dealing with spasticity, which for me is especially bad in my right leg. My knee doesn’t like to bend, and my hip has a personal vendetta against me, constantly pulling me forward like it’s trying to catapult me into next week. So, to keep myself moving, I go to physical therapy—not just for strengthening, but for regular stretching sessions, which, in my case, is basically convincing my body to loosen up like it’s not made of iron rods.

Now, I became really good friends with the therapist who was helping me with these stretching exercises. We always had great conversations about sports, music, and just life in general. We had a lot in common, which made the whole process much more enjoyable (or at least distracted me from the fact that he was basically wrestling my leg into submission).

Because we connected so well, I assumed we were about the same age. You know how it is—you bond over shared experiences, reminiscing about old-school music and wild times, and you just figure, Yeah, this guy gets it. We’ve been through the same era.

Well… I was about to get a reality check.

The Moment I Realized I Was the History Channel

One day, during one of these stretching sessions, I started talking about my military service—about traveling the world, being stationed in Germany before the wall came down, and my time in Saudi Arabia during Desert Shield and Desert Storm. As I spoke, I noticed something. My therapist had gone completely silent. No jokes, no input, just listening intently.

Now, I figured I must have really hooked him with a great story, so I stopped and asked, “What’s wrong? You don’t remember these events?”

And that’s when it happened. He looked at me and said, “Oh, I remember reading about them in school.”

… IN SCHOOL.

As in, textbooks. History class. As in, he wasn’t even born yet.

At that moment, I swear I felt my bones creak a little louder.

I had spent all this time thinking we were peers, reminiscing about a shared past—meanwhile, this man was out here studying my life in his high school history class.

I laughed, but deep down, something shifted. Not only had I officially crossed into the “historical figure” category, but I had also unknowingly done what every generation before me had done—assumed that my experiences were universal. That everyone just knew what it was like to see major world events firsthand. But the reality was, to him, I was basically a primary source, like some wise elder telling stories of the olden days.

History Repeats Itself (And Now I’m a Part of It)

Funny enough, I’ve been on the other side of this experience too.

At my new independent living facility, I often have meals with people in their 90s and even a few who have hit the triple digits. And they talk about their lives the same way I talked to my therapist—like we’ve all lived the same history.

To me, things like airplanes, cars, telephones, and television have always been here. But to them? These were brand-new, groundbreaking inventions that changed their world. I listen to their stories about life before television was in every home, before commercial flights were a thing, and I realize…

This is exactly what happened with my therapist.

He assumed the world was always the way it is now, just like I did with the people who came before me. And just like them, I’m now at the point where I get to pass down the stories of “the way things used to be.”

The Silver Lining of Slowing Down

MS has slowed me down in a lot of ways, but maybe that’s not all bad.

I used to be so caught up in the fast-paced rhythm of life that I never really listened to the generations before me. But now, I get to hear firsthand accounts of what life was like before all the things I take for granted.

And maybe, just maybe, my therapist got a little taste of that same realization from me.

Of course, this also means I’ve officially reached the point where I can start saying things like, “Back in my day…” and “You kids don’t know how good you have it!” But hey, I’ll own it. At this rate, I might as well start telling stories about life before the internet like I walked 10 miles to school in the hot Jamaica sun… uphill… both ways.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go stretch out my ancient, battle-hardened leg and contemplate how long it’ll be before someone asks me what it was like to live before smartphones.

Because let’s be real—that day is coming.