Personal story about loving historyfrom @wyattderman

Transcript

I've been living in England for two months and two days, and this is what nobody warned me about. I'm becoming a history nerd bad. Without the kids, just the nerd, but the energy of the dad gets worse than it sounds. It started small. I walked past a plaque saying thirteen eighty in better. Oh, that's it. That was the whole thrill. A date on the wall. I have my own business. I have interests. And I stood in the street alone, deeply moved by a no here's the problem. Once you feel it once, you chase it like a toxic relationship. Now I'm reading every plaque like it owes me money. I gasped at a door yes. A worse. The door did not gasp back. And as a nerd dad, I cannot keep the nerd facts inside. Went to dinner yesterday with some friends. It was lovely. Great atmosphere. Until I looked over under the candlelight and whispered, you know this pub predates the Tudor dynasty? They did not know that. They did not want to know that. But I'm a man possessed no. I pointed things. That's older than America. That wall seemed plagged. They're trying to enjoy a glass of wine, and I'm over here narrating the structural history of the ceiling beams, like some haunted tourists nobody booked. And now I have opinions. I have a favorite century. I mean, who has a favorite century? It's me. I do. It's the fourteen hundreds. Don't get me started because I will get started. I rank buildings now. I walked past a perfectly nice Georgian townhouse and went, oh, a bit recent. Built in 1740. Tier become a man who's disappointed in architecture for being young. There's no coming back from this. My father would be proud, and that's the scariest part. Here's the thing that nobody warns you about. We treat caring about stuff like it's embarrassing. Like the cool move is to be bored, to have seen it all, to not be impressed. Then you feel something from a wall built in 1487, and you realize that being easily amazed isn't childish. It's the whole point.