My first real exposure to world culture outside of my Adirondack woods came from reading The Story of Civilization, an 11-volume set of books co-authored by Will Durant and his wife, Ariel.
Beginning with volume one, The Life of Greece, written in 1939, through the final 1975 book, The Age of Napolean, my reading of this great series of books provided my first window into the subjects of art and history.
When I learned of Will Durant’s death on November 8, 1981 it caused me to reflect on the impact the series made on me.
I cannot begin to describe what I learned, so it is better said in Durant’s own words:
“I wish to tell as much as I can, in as little space as I can, of the contributions that genius and labor have made to the cultural heritage of mankind—to chronicle and contemplate, in their causes, character and effects, the advances of invention, the varieties of economic organization, the experiments in government, the aspirations of religion, the mutations of morals and manners, the masterpieces of literature, the development of science, the wisdom of philosophy, and the achievements of art.”
These books were the secret start of my personal journey to better understand the roots of the greater world.
They gave me a blessed leg-up when I began studying art and history at the university level and defined my quest for the world in stories that are true to the human condition.
I was fascinated by the unending story of us at a time that I was trying to understand my own self.
I poured over these books like they were some code I had cracked that would give me the answers I needed to understand who I was.
I think many of my schoolmates were also trying to understand the world as each headed down his or her own path.
My friend Paul Metzler was doing the same through music bringing in classic music that didn’t fit the 1980’s pop culture to try and understand his own existence.
Many others tested the boundaries parents and society had placed on them while searching for their true selves.
Some were testing their physical strengths. Others, such as my friend Kim Fox, were finding their voice in a certain style of music to play and share.
We were all trying to find ourselves, together in friendship while we diverged.
But on that November day when I heard of the passing of Mr. Durant, the mentor I had never met, I realized our journey was to be a short one.
I mourned his loss, just as Paul cried over the loss of John Lennon, and Kim wrestled to stand on the shoulders of mentors whose voices gave her strength.
I’m sure we had little understanding of each other’s journeys at that moment, but we supported and respected each other’s paths, growing up Adirondack.
Mitch Lee, Adirondack native & storyteller, lives at Inlet. ltmitch3rdny@aol.com