by Paul Caputo
When the Philadelphia Phillies won the World Series in 2008, I felt like I had accomplished the feat myself. After a lifetime of rooting for a team that had experienced what can politely be described as minimal success, I surprised even myself with the intensity of my reaction to their claiming the ultimate prize. Watching the last few outs in my living room in Colorado, I cringed, sweated, and ultimately cheered along with close to 50,000 fans in Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia, 1,800 miles away. Here was my favorite team in my favorite sport—a team that had heretofore won the World Series only once in its 125-year history—accomplishing something I never thought I would see in my adult life.
My wife, who is completely baffled by my affinity for team sports, stopped asking long ago why I allow myself to be affected so deeply by millionaire strangers playing a game in their pajamas. This is a good thing, because there’s no rational way to explain it. But when the final out was recorded, I thought of my father, who raised us on baseball in what is largely a football town; my sister, a lifelong fan; and my brother, who was actually in the stands when it happened. I thought of my friends in what I still think of as “back home”—as well as countless strangers in the stadium or elsewhere in the greater Philadelphia area—hugging, high-fiving, and crying tears of joy.
I thought, too, of the place itself. Citizens Bank Park debuted in 2004 and has been home to relatively good teams since its inception—unlike now-defunct Veterans Stadium, where I suffered through countless losses throughout my youth and young adulthood. As with most new ballparks, it’s a beautiful place in terms of aesthetics and architecture, whether you care about the game or not. But if you’re a fan, stadiums are like cathedrals, and standing in their shadows evokes memories of deeply emotional experiences shared with thousands of like-minded individuals.
In August 2008, just two months before the Phillies won the World Series, I took a guided tour of Citizens Bank Park. Obviously, many of the people who take tours of stadiums already have emotional and intellectual connections to the place, so the guide’s challenge is more to facilitate a meaningful experience than to create those connections.
Of course, much of the thrill of the pregame tour was being on the field while larger-than-life superstars took batting practice, but even empty rooms in the depths of the stadium brought a thrill. At each stop on the tour, our guide gave us minimal information and let us simply soak it in.
Two months later, when fireworks popped and the players celebrated their championship on the field, I watched on TV, remembering what the stadium looked like when I saw it from home plate during that tour. Whenever players and managers take questions during interviews in the media room, I remember the brief moment I stood behind that podium, trying to imagine flash bulbs popping and reporters shouting questions.
When Harry Kalas, Phillies announcer for literally my entire lifetime, passed away suddenly in 2009, one of my first thoughts was of visiting the broadcast booth where he worked his magic. I’ll forever remember a headset labeled “Harry” and our guide’s simple statement, “Harry Kalas sits here.”
In the field of interpretation, it’s easy to think of traditional natural and cultural resources like parks, museums, and historical sites when we talk about creating emotional and intellectual connections. But sports are a huge part of our heritage, not just in the United States but worldwide.
Many of us have some connection to something related to sports, whether we play or spectate, whether it’s professional, college, amateur, or just an informal game played by children in a neighborhood. This issue of Legacy addresses the interpretation of sports, from a Mesoamerican ballgame with origins more than 3,500 years ago to contemporary youth baseball leagues, from the marshes of a New Jersey-based birdwatching event to the skies over New Mexico interpreted in the Anderson Abruzzo Albuquerque International Balloon Museum.
NAI Art and Publications director Paul Caputo can be reached at pcaputo@interpnet.com. Send letters to the editor for publication to legacy@interpnet.com.
Note about the cover: Visit www.interpretationbydesign after March 8, 2010, for a discussion on the ethics of the Photoshop techniques used on the cover of this issue.
The front cover of Legacy includes the slogan, “The magazine of the National Association for Interpretation.” It’s sometimes too easy for me, sitting at my desk at our national headquarters in Colorado, to lose myself in the everyday details of deadlines, page layout, and editorial responsibilities. Several times a year, though, when I attend NAI workshops or conferences, I am reminded that this magazine is a reflection of a larger community.
by Paul Caputo
by Paul Caputo
In these tough economic times, it seems that everything you read begins with the phrase, “In these tough economic times.” Understandably, we have become consumed by the financial crisis that has dominated headlines, wreaked havoc on the job market, and devastated the global economy. It seems that everything we do is defined in terms of “surviving” the economic downturn—a term that can be taken literally, as interpretive organizations, sites, and programs, not to mention the livelihoods of those who oversee them, are endangered.
When Legacy first announced the theme for this issue, we heard some variation of the following question on more than one occasion: “What do you mean by public history?”
This issue of Legacy focuses on the interpretation of rivers. At first glance, you might imagine that, because rivers are a natural feature, this issue would focus on natural heritage. But the opposite is the case. As authors proposed articles for this issue, it became abundantly clear that when we think of rivers, we don’t just think of the veins of rushing (or sometimes trickling) water that dissect our maps. We think of the people who lived along the shores, depending on rivers for sustenance, transportation, or whatever else affected their lives or livelihoods.
When I first became involved with NAI back in 2002, I was struck by how fully the definition of interpretation could be applied to my chosen field of visual communications. The description of a “communication process that forges emotional and intellectual connections” can certainly be applied to graphic design in its many manifestations (print, web, multimedia, etc.). NAI defines interpretation as a mission-based communication process that forges emotional and intellectual connections between the interests of the audience and the meanings inherent in the resource.
“Of all the things that confuse human beings, perhaps nothing trips us up so much as what it means for something to be simple or complex.”
Legacy: What’s Different
by Paul Caputo
One significant difference with this issue is that thematic feature articles, which were until recently written by freelance journalists and other professional writers, are now written by your peers—interpretive professionals writing about interpretation. Themes through late 2010 are posted online, so I encourage all of our readers to visit Legacy’s page on NAI’s website, www.interpnet.com. (Click on “Publications,” then “Legacy Magazine.”) If you have a story that you’d like to share as it relates to an upcoming theme, please e-mail me your idea.
Columns that do not relate to the theme are listed under “Departments” on the contents page and include such topics as frontline interpretation, inspiration, media, planning and design, technology, and training, among others. Readers will recognize some familiar faces in this and future issues. The regular columnists you’ve come to know over the years, like Alan Leftridge, Kris Whipple, Kirk Mona, and Jon Hooper, to name a few, will continue to appear in the departments. And you’ll see new faces in this and future issues. Again, if you have a topic that fits one of Legacy’s departments or would like to propose a new department, please e-mail me.
It’s a different magazine now than it was a year ago, so it looks different, too. Those who are interested in this sort of thing will notice small design changes throughout the magazine and a significant change in the cover design. (Those who are really interested in this sort of thing should visit NAI’s newest website, www.InterpretationByDesign.com, for more on the changes.)
Most importantly, Legacy continues to strive to meet the needs of NAI members. The first goal of the magazine is to be a useful resource for interpreters, to advance the field of interpretation by sharing ideas and discussing important issues in the field. (You can share your own ideas and discuss issues on Legacy’s online companion, www.onlinelegacy.org. Every article you read in this issue will appear online over the course of the next two months, and you don’t need a username or password to comment.)
NAI’s strength is in its diverse and unique membership, and I hope you will consider the value of making your voice heard, either in this magazine or online.