In high school, I slept through history class and aced it. In college, I told my honors advisor that I would take science classes instead of history. He argued with me, insisting that history was so easy and on and on. I didn’t care. I’d had enough classroom naps.
Fast forward a few years, and a friend of mine lent me The Frontiersman, by Allan Eckert. My husband—who does not, I should not, think of reading as a hobby or as a fun-to-do evening activity—whipped through it in a week. I finally picked it up and couldn’t put it down.
That was my first taste that I’d been misled in my belief that history was boring. Over the course of the next several years, I realized something stunning:...READ MORE