Whoever Opens Washington County's Time Capsule in 2076 Better Get the Whole Damn Story.

I got a question for the people who open Washington County's time capsule in 2076: what version of us are y'all actually gonna find? The real one? Or the nice, cleaned-up version we put on display because nobody wanted to include the uncomfortable shit?

According to Steven Cohen's September 29 report for DC News Now, Washington County dedicated a time capsule at Marty Snook Park with photographs, letters, artifacts, and memorabilia. It's supposed to stay closed until 2076. That's a cool idea. Fifty years is a long time. But the part I'm thinking about isn't the ceremony. It's what actually counts as history.

Stop acting like regular lives aren't worth remembering.

I'd put a grocery receipt in there. A bus schedule. A picture of a family on Jonathan Street with everybody's names written on the back. Maybe somebody's paycheck. A kid talking about what school is like. A parent explaining what groceries cost and how far that paycheck really goes. None of that sounds like the kind of thing somebody gets an award for, but it would tell the next generation more about us than another collection of smiling people in suits.

And yes, I'd want Black Hagerstown represented as more than a footnote. Not only when something terrible happens or somebody becomes the first Black person to hold a title. I'm talking about ordinary friendships, businesses, neighborhoods, parents, traditions, music, and the way people actually lived. That's our history too.

Save the stuff we still haven't fixed.

Put our complaints in there. The cost of living. The buildings we've watched change. The jobs people wish paid better. The reasons some folks stayed and others couldn't. I'm not saying the actual capsule left any of that out—I haven't seen a complete inventory. I'm saying history gets dishonest when all we preserve is the part that looks good.

I think about how many old pictures we have where nobody remembers the names anymore. That's somebody's whole life reduced to 'I think that's your great-uncle.' We don't have to wait for the county to bury a time capsule to do better. Write the names down. Save the voices. Keep more than one copy.

In 2076, I hope they don't just find out Washington County was here. I hope they find out who the hell we were.