#localhistory — Public Fediverse posts

Check out our latest episode of the EdTech Situation Room: Ep 373 “Digitizing Local History” - with special guest Kern Kelley!
https://edtechsr.substack.com/p/edtechsr-ep-373-digitizing-local

Also on YouTube:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=309m5kMHL3I

#AI #history #edtech #MediaLit #digitize #LocalHistory #edtechSR

Check out our latest episode of the EdTech Situation Room: Ep 373 “Digitizing Local History” - with special guest Kern Kelley!
https://edtechsr.substack.com/p/edtechsr-ep-373-digitizing-local

Also on YouTube:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=309m5kMHL3I

#AI #history #edtech #MediaLit #digitize #LocalHistory #edtechSR

Check out our latest episode of the EdTech Situation Room: Ep 373 “Digitizing Local History” - with special guest Kern Kelley!
https://edtechsr.substack.com/p/edtechsr-ep-373-digitizing-local

Also on YouTube:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=309m5kMHL3I

#AI #history #edtech #MediaLit #digitize #LocalHistory #edtechSR

Check out our latest episode of the EdTech Situation Room: Ep 373 “Digitizing Local History” - with special guest Kern Kelley!
https://edtechsr.substack.com/p/edtechsr-ep-373-digitizing-local

Also on YouTube:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=309m5kMHL3I

#AI #history #edtech #MediaLit #digitize #LocalHistory #edtechSR

Check out our latest episode of the EdTech Situation Room: Ep 373 “Digitizing Local History” - with special guest Kern Kelley!
https://edtechsr.substack.com/p/edtechsr-ep-373-digitizing-local

Also on YouTube:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=309m5kMHL3I

#AI #history #edtech #MediaLit #digitize #LocalHistory #edtechSR

Buxton Museum – From Closure to New Beginnings

Pull up a chair and let me put the kettle on, because this is one of those stories that feels close to home in more ways than one – Buxton has a way of doing that, doesn’t it? The mist rolling down over the hills, the limestone underfoot, the sense that if you dig even a little you will find something older than you expected. Sometimes a fossil, sometimes a story, and sometimes, if you are very lucky, something shaped by human hands thousands of years ago.

Buxton Museum and Art Gallery has always been the place where all those different layers come together. Not in a grand, untouchable way, but in that quietly fascinating, slightly eccentric way that local museums do so well. You could walk in out of the Derbyshire drizzle and find yourself standing in the middle of 360 million years of history, from ancient seas to Roman roads to the tools of people who once walked these same hills with flint in their hands and purpose in their stride.

The museum itself has roots deep in the late nineteenth century, when Buxton was not only a spa town but a place of folklore, culture and curiosity. Like many civic museums of the Victorian and Edwardian era, it was born from the idea that knowledge should be shared, that history and science should not belong solely to scholars but to everyone. Its long time home in the Peak Buildings on Terrace Road became a kind of anchor point for that vision, holding collections that told the story of the Peak District in all its strange and beautiful complexity.

And what a story that is.

The Peak is one of the richest prehistoric landscapes in Britain, a place where Mesolithic hunters once tracked game through woodland that no longer exists, where Neolithic communities raised monuments that still puzzle us, and where Bronze Age burials quietly mark the passing of lives long forgotten. The museum’s archaeological collections have always been central to telling that story, and tucked within them, the lithics collection carries a particular kind of magic. I know this because I, along with my good friend Bob, were once part of the team that sorted them.

There is something about lithics that stops you in your tracks. These are not decorative objects or curiosities. They are tools, shaped with intent, held in real hands, used in moments of survival. When you handle them, even through gloves and careful procedure, there is a flicker of connection. The angle of a blade, the precision of a strike, the quiet evidence of skill passed from one generation to another. The work of curation – sorting, cataloguing and understanding museum artefacts – is meticulous and often unseen, but it is the foundation on which everything else is built. Without that work, the stories remain silent.

Over the years, the museum grew into something much broader than a simple collection of ‘things’. It became a place that told the entire story of the Peak District, from deep geological time through to modern social history. Visitors could move through the corridors from fossils and Blue John stone to Roman jewellery, medieval relics and the industrial heritage that shaped the town itself. It was a place where everything connected if you took the time to look.

A turning point came in 2017 with the redevelopment of the Wonders of the Peak gallery, a project that brought new life and energy into the museum. Funded in part by Arts Council England, it transformed the way the collections were displayed, making them more immersive, more accessible and more engaging for a wider audience. Suddenly, this quiet local museum was drawing over 30,000 visitors a year, hosting exhibitions, workshops and even collaborations with institutions like the British Museum. There was a sense that little old Buxton’s story was not just local after all, but part of something much, much bigger.

The museum also began to shift in how it invited people in. Gone was the stuffy, old fashioned sense that everything must be observed at a distance. In its place came a more hands on approach, encouraging curiosity, exploration and connection. Families, researchers, school groups and the simply curious all found something to hold onto there, whether literally or figuratively.

And then, as so often happens with buildings that have stood a long time, reality intervened. Structural concerns with the Peak Buildings led to the museum’s closure in 2023. It is difficult to overstate how much that changed things. This was not just a case of locked doors. It was the temporary loss of a space that had quietly held the town’s memory for generations.

Behind the scenes, an enormous amount of work began almost immediately. Over 100,000 objects had to be carefully packed, documented and moved into secure storage. Each one handled with the same care it had received on display, perhaps more so, because now it had to endure uncertainty. Staff adapted, shifting their focus to outreach and temporary displays, with Buxton Library becoming a kind of lifeline for keeping the museum’s presence alive in the community.

The community, for its part, did not stay quiet.

In 2024, hundreds of people turned out in support of the museum, a reminder that this was never just a place tourists visited but something woven into everyday life. When a museum like this closes, even temporarily, it leaves a gap you can feel.

Now, in 2026, the story is shifting again, and there is a cautious sense of movement. Funding from Arts Council England has supported plans for a new temporary home near Buxton Library, with exhibition spaces, a shop and areas for activities and education. It is not a permanent solution, but it is a vital step, a way of bringing the collections back into public view and restoring that connection between people and place.

At the same time, Derbyshire County Council has committed to finding a permanent new location within the town centre as part of wider regeneration plans. It is an ambitious goal, and one that will take time. There are practical challenges, funding considerations and the delicate balance of honouring what the museum has always been while allowing it to evolve into something that can serve future generations.

Public consultation has become a key part of that process, with residents invited in 2026 to help shape what the museum should look like and how it should function. That feels fitting. This has always been a shared space, built not just by curators and councils but by the people who visit, contribute and care about it.

There are still questions, of course. Timelines are uncertain, and the move to a permanent home may take several years. Temporary arrangements will bridge that gap, and there will likely be moments of frustration along the way. But what stands out most is not uncertainty, but resilience.

Even now, the work continues. Collections are being researched, conserved and understood in quiet rooms rather than public galleries. Stories are still being pieced together. Knowledge is still growing.

And somewhere, carefully wrapped and waiting, are those lithics. Silent, patient, carrying the imprint of lives lived thousands of years ago. The fact that they have been handled, sorted and interpreted by people who care deeply about them adds another layer to their story. It becomes a chain of connection, from the original maker to the modern curator, from ancient landscape to present day Buxton.

When the museum opens its doors again, whether in a temporary space or a new permanent home, it will not simply be returning to what it was. It will be stepping into something new, shaped by everything it has been through and by the people who refused to let it fade quietly away.

And if you stand there, looking at a piece of worked flint under soft gallery lights, you might just feel it. That sense of continuity. Of hands across time. Of stories waiting patiently to be told again.

Buxton Museum – From Closure to New Beginnings

Pull up a chair and let me put the kettle on, because this is one of those stories that feels close to home in more ways than one – Buxton has a way of doing that, doesn’t it? The mist rolling down over the hills, the limestone underfoot, the sense that if you dig even a little you will find something older than you expected. Sometimes a fossil, sometimes a story, and sometimes, if you are very lucky, something shaped by human hands thousands of years ago.

Buxton Museum and Art Gallery has always been the place where all those different layers come together. Not in a grand, untouchable way, but in that quietly fascinating, slightly eccentric way that local museums do so well. You could walk in out of the Derbyshire drizzle and find yourself standing in the middle of 360 million years of history, from ancient seas to Roman roads to the tools of people who once walked these same hills with flint in their hands and purpose in their stride.

The museum itself has roots deep in the late nineteenth century, when Buxton was not only a spa town but a place of folklore, culture and curiosity. Like many civic museums of the Victorian and Edwardian era, it was born from the idea that knowledge should be shared, that history and science should not belong solely to scholars but to everyone. Its long time home in the Peak Buildings on Terrace Road became a kind of anchor point for that vision, holding collections that told the story of the Peak District in all its strange and beautiful complexity.

And what a story that is.

The Peak is one of the richest prehistoric landscapes in Britain, a place where Mesolithic hunters once tracked game through woodland that no longer exists, where Neolithic communities raised monuments that still puzzle us, and where Bronze Age burials quietly mark the passing of lives long forgotten. The museum’s archaeological collections have always been central to telling that story, and tucked within them, the lithics collection carries a particular kind of magic. I know this because I, along with my good friend Bob, were once part of the team that sorted them.

There is something about lithics that stops you in your tracks. These are not decorative objects or curiosities. They are tools, shaped with intent, held in real hands, used in moments of survival. When you handle them, even through gloves and careful procedure, there is a flicker of connection. The angle of a blade, the precision of a strike, the quiet evidence of skill passed from one generation to another. The work of curation – sorting, cataloguing and understanding museum artefacts – is meticulous and often unseen, but it is the foundation on which everything else is built. Without that work, the stories remain silent.

Over the years, the museum grew into something much broader than a simple collection of ‘things’. It became a place that told the entire story of the Peak District, from deep geological time through to modern social history. Visitors could move through the corridors from fossils and Blue John stone to Roman jewellery, medieval relics and the industrial heritage that shaped the town itself. It was a place where everything connected if you took the time to look.

A turning point came in 2017 with the redevelopment of the Wonders of the Peak gallery, a project that brought new life and energy into the museum. Funded in part by Arts Council England, it transformed the way the collections were displayed, making them more immersive, more accessible and more engaging for a wider audience. Suddenly, this quiet local museum was drawing over 30,000 visitors a year, hosting exhibitions, workshops and even collaborations with institutions like the British Museum. There was a sense that little old Buxton’s story was not just local after all, but part of something much, much bigger.

The museum also began to shift in how it invited people in. Gone was the stuffy, old fashioned sense that everything must be observed at a distance. In its place came a more hands on approach, encouraging curiosity, exploration and connection. Families, researchers, school groups and the simply curious all found something to hold onto there, whether literally or figuratively.

And then, as so often happens with buildings that have stood a long time, reality intervened. Structural concerns with the Peak Buildings led to the museum’s closure in 2023. It is difficult to overstate how much that changed things. This was not just a case of locked doors. It was the temporary loss of a space that had quietly held the town’s memory for generations.

Behind the scenes, an enormous amount of work began almost immediately. Over 100,000 objects had to be carefully packed, documented and moved into secure storage. Each one handled with the same care it had received on display, perhaps more so, because now it had to endure uncertainty. Staff adapted, shifting their focus to outreach and temporary displays, with Buxton Library becoming a kind of lifeline for keeping the museum’s presence alive in the community.

The community, for its part, did not stay quiet.

In 2024, hundreds of people turned out in support of the museum, a reminder that this was never just a place tourists visited but something woven into everyday life. When a museum like this closes, even temporarily, it leaves a gap you can feel.

Now, in 2026, the story is shifting again, and there is a cautious sense of movement. Funding from Arts Council England has supported plans for a new temporary home near Buxton Library, with exhibition spaces, a shop and areas for activities and education. It is not a permanent solution, but it is a vital step, a way of bringing the collections back into public view and restoring that connection between people and place.

At the same time, Derbyshire County Council has committed to finding a permanent new location within the town centre as part of wider regeneration plans. It is an ambitious goal, and one that will take time. There are practical challenges, funding considerations and the delicate balance of honouring what the museum has always been while allowing it to evolve into something that can serve future generations.

Public consultation has become a key part of that process, with residents invited in 2026 to help shape what the museum should look like and how it should function. That feels fitting. This has always been a shared space, built not just by curators and councils but by the people who visit, contribute and care about it.

There are still questions, of course. Timelines are uncertain, and the move to a permanent home may take several years. Temporary arrangements will bridge that gap, and there will likely be moments of frustration along the way. But what stands out most is not uncertainty, but resilience.

Even now, the work continues. Collections are being researched, conserved and understood in quiet rooms rather than public galleries. Stories are still being pieced together. Knowledge is still growing.

And somewhere, carefully wrapped and waiting, are those lithics. Silent, patient, carrying the imprint of lives lived thousands of years ago. The fact that they have been handled, sorted and interpreted by people who care deeply about them adds another layer to their story. It becomes a chain of connection, from the original maker to the modern curator, from ancient landscape to present day Buxton.

When the museum opens its doors again, whether in a temporary space or a new permanent home, it will not simply be returning to what it was. It will be stepping into something new, shaped by everything it has been through and by the people who refused to let it fade quietly away.

And if you stand there, looking at a piece of worked flint under soft gallery lights, you might just feel it. That sense of continuity. Of hands across time. Of stories waiting patiently to be told again.

Buxton Museum – From Closure to New Beginnings

Pull up a chair and let me put the kettle on, because this is one of those stories that feels close to home in more ways than one – Buxton has a way of doing that, doesn’t it? The mist rolling down over the hills, the limestone underfoot, the sense that if you dig even a little you will find something older than you expected. Sometimes a fossil, sometimes a story, and sometimes, if you are very lucky, something shaped by human hands thousands of years ago.

Buxton Museum and Art Gallery has always been the place where all those different layers come together. Not in a grand, untouchable way, but in that quietly fascinating, slightly eccentric way that local museums do so well. You could walk in out of the Derbyshire drizzle and find yourself standing in the middle of 360 million years of history, from ancient seas to Roman roads to the tools of people who once walked these same hills with flint in their hands and purpose in their stride.

The museum itself has roots deep in the late nineteenth century, when Buxton was not only a spa town but a place of folklore, culture and curiosity. Like many civic museums of the Victorian and Edwardian era, it was born from the idea that knowledge should be shared, that history and science should not belong solely to scholars but to everyone. Its long time home in the Peak Buildings on Terrace Road became a kind of anchor point for that vision, holding collections that told the story of the Peak District in all its strange and beautiful complexity.

And what a story that is.

The Peak is one of the richest prehistoric landscapes in Britain, a place where Mesolithic hunters once tracked game through woodland that no longer exists, where Neolithic communities raised monuments that still puzzle us, and where Bronze Age burials quietly mark the passing of lives long forgotten. The museum’s archaeological collections have always been central to telling that story, and tucked within them, the lithics collection carries a particular kind of magic. I know this because I, along with my good friend Bob, were once part of the team that sorted them.

There is something about lithics that stops you in your tracks. These are not decorative objects or curiosities. They are tools, shaped with intent, held in real hands, used in moments of survival. When you handle them, even through gloves and careful procedure, there is a flicker of connection. The angle of a blade, the precision of a strike, the quiet evidence of skill passed from one generation to another. The work of curation – sorting, cataloguing and understanding museum artefacts – is meticulous and often unseen, but it is the foundation on which everything else is built. Without that work, the stories remain silent.

Over the years, the museum grew into something much broader than a simple collection of ‘things’. It became a place that told the entire story of the Peak District, from deep geological time through to modern social history. Visitors could move through the corridors from fossils and Blue John stone to Roman jewellery, medieval relics and the industrial heritage that shaped the town itself. It was a place where everything connected if you took the time to look.

A turning point came in 2017 with the redevelopment of the Wonders of the Peak gallery, a project that brought new life and energy into the museum. Funded in part by Arts Council England, it transformed the way the collections were displayed, making them more immersive, more accessible and more engaging for a wider audience. Suddenly, this quiet local museum was drawing over 30,000 visitors a year, hosting exhibitions, workshops and even collaborations with institutions like the British Museum. There was a sense that little old Buxton’s story was not just local after all, but part of something much, much bigger.

The museum also began to shift in how it invited people in. Gone was the stuffy, old fashioned sense that everything must be observed at a distance. In its place came a more hands on approach, encouraging curiosity, exploration and connection. Families, researchers, school groups and the simply curious all found something to hold onto there, whether literally or figuratively.

And then, as so often happens with buildings that have stood a long time, reality intervened. Structural concerns with the Peak Buildings led to the museum’s closure in 2023. It is difficult to overstate how much that changed things. This was not just a case of locked doors. It was the temporary loss of a space that had quietly held the town’s memory for generations.

Behind the scenes, an enormous amount of work began almost immediately. Over 100,000 objects had to be carefully packed, documented and moved into secure storage. Each one handled with the same care it had received on display, perhaps more so, because now it had to endure uncertainty. Staff adapted, shifting their focus to outreach and temporary displays, with Buxton Library becoming a kind of lifeline for keeping the museum’s presence alive in the community.

The community, for its part, did not stay quiet.

In 2024, hundreds of people turned out in support of the museum, a reminder that this was never just a place tourists visited but something woven into everyday life. When a museum like this closes, even temporarily, it leaves a gap you can feel.

Now, in 2026, the story is shifting again, and there is a cautious sense of movement. Funding from Arts Council England has supported plans for a new temporary home near Buxton Library, with exhibition spaces, a shop and areas for activities and education. It is not a permanent solution, but it is a vital step, a way of bringing the collections back into public view and restoring that connection between people and place.

At the same time, Derbyshire County Council has committed to finding a permanent new location within the town centre as part of wider regeneration plans. It is an ambitious goal, and one that will take time. There are practical challenges, funding considerations and the delicate balance of honouring what the museum has always been while allowing it to evolve into something that can serve future generations.

Public consultation has become a key part of that process, with residents invited in 2026 to help shape what the museum should look like and how it should function. That feels fitting. This has always been a shared space, built not just by curators and councils but by the people who visit, contribute and care about it.

There are still questions, of course. Timelines are uncertain, and the move to a permanent home may take several years. Temporary arrangements will bridge that gap, and there will likely be moments of frustration along the way. But what stands out most is not uncertainty, but resilience.

Even now, the work continues. Collections are being researched, conserved and understood in quiet rooms rather than public galleries. Stories are still being pieced together. Knowledge is still growing.

And somewhere, carefully wrapped and waiting, are those lithics. Silent, patient, carrying the imprint of lives lived thousands of years ago. The fact that they have been handled, sorted and interpreted by people who care deeply about them adds another layer to their story. It becomes a chain of connection, from the original maker to the modern curator, from ancient landscape to present day Buxton.

When the museum opens its doors again, whether in a temporary space or a new permanent home, it will not simply be returning to what it was. It will be stepping into something new, shaped by everything it has been through and by the people who refused to let it fade quietly away.

And if you stand there, looking at a piece of worked flint under soft gallery lights, you might just feel it. That sense of continuity. Of hands across time. Of stories waiting patiently to be told again.

Buxton Museum – From Closure to New Beginnings

Pull up a chair and let me put the kettle on, because this is one of those stories that feels close to home in more ways than one – Buxton has a way of doing that, doesn’t it? The mist rolling down over the hills, the limestone underfoot, the sense that if you dig even a little you will find something older than you expected. Sometimes a fossil, sometimes a story, and sometimes, if you are very lucky, something shaped by human hands thousands of years ago.

Buxton Museum and Art Gallery has always been the place where all those different layers come together. Not in a grand, untouchable way, but in that quietly fascinating, slightly eccentric way that local museums do so well. You could walk in out of the Derbyshire drizzle and find yourself standing in the middle of 360 million years of history, from ancient seas to Roman roads to the tools of people who once walked these same hills with flint in their hands and purpose in their stride.

The museum itself has roots deep in the late nineteenth century, when Buxton was not only a spa town but a place of folklore, culture and curiosity. Like many civic museums of the Victorian and Edwardian era, it was born from the idea that knowledge should be shared, that history and science should not belong solely to scholars but to everyone. Its long time home in the Peak Buildings on Terrace Road became a kind of anchor point for that vision, holding collections that told the story of the Peak District in all its strange and beautiful complexity.

And what a story that is.

The Peak is one of the richest prehistoric landscapes in Britain, a place where Mesolithic hunters once tracked game through woodland that no longer exists, where Neolithic communities raised monuments that still puzzle us, and where Bronze Age burials quietly mark the passing of lives long forgotten. The museum’s archaeological collections have always been central to telling that story, and tucked within them, the lithics collection carries a particular kind of magic. I know this because I, along with my good friend Bob, were once part of the team that sorted them.

There is something about lithics that stops you in your tracks. These are not decorative objects or curiosities. They are tools, shaped with intent, held in real hands, used in moments of survival. When you handle them, even through gloves and careful procedure, there is a flicker of connection. The angle of a blade, the precision of a strike, the quiet evidence of skill passed from one generation to another. The work of curation – sorting, cataloguing and understanding museum artefacts – is meticulous and often unseen, but it is the foundation on which everything else is built. Without that work, the stories remain silent.

Over the years, the museum grew into something much broader than a simple collection of ‘things’. It became a place that told the entire story of the Peak District, from deep geological time through to modern social history. Visitors could move through the corridors from fossils and Blue John stone to Roman jewellery, medieval relics and the industrial heritage that shaped the town itself. It was a place where everything connected if you took the time to look.

A turning point came in 2017 with the redevelopment of the Wonders of the Peak gallery, a project that brought new life and energy into the museum. Funded in part by Arts Council England, it transformed the way the collections were displayed, making them more immersive, more accessible and more engaging for a wider audience. Suddenly, this quiet local museum was drawing over 30,000 visitors a year, hosting exhibitions, workshops and even collaborations with institutions like the British Museum. There was a sense that little old Buxton’s story was not just local after all, but part of something much, much bigger.

The museum also began to shift in how it invited people in. Gone was the stuffy, old fashioned sense that everything must be observed at a distance. In its place came a more hands on approach, encouraging curiosity, exploration and connection. Families, researchers, school groups and the simply curious all found something to hold onto there, whether literally or figuratively.

And then, as so often happens with buildings that have stood a long time, reality intervened. Structural concerns with the Peak Buildings led to the museum’s closure in 2023. It is difficult to overstate how much that changed things. This was not just a case of locked doors. It was the temporary loss of a space that had quietly held the town’s memory for generations.

Behind the scenes, an enormous amount of work began almost immediately. Over 100,000 objects had to be carefully packed, documented and moved into secure storage. Each one handled with the same care it had received on display, perhaps more so, because now it had to endure uncertainty. Staff adapted, shifting their focus to outreach and temporary displays, with Buxton Library becoming a kind of lifeline for keeping the museum’s presence alive in the community.

The community, for its part, did not stay quiet.

In 2024, hundreds of people turned out in support of the museum, a reminder that this was never just a place tourists visited but something woven into everyday life. When a museum like this closes, even temporarily, it leaves a gap you can feel.

Now, in 2026, the story is shifting again, and there is a cautious sense of movement. Funding from Arts Council England has supported plans for a new temporary home near Buxton Library, with exhibition spaces, a shop and areas for activities and education. It is not a permanent solution, but it is a vital step, a way of bringing the collections back into public view and restoring that connection between people and place.

At the same time, Derbyshire County Council has committed to finding a permanent new location within the town centre as part of wider regeneration plans. It is an ambitious goal, and one that will take time. There are practical challenges, funding considerations and the delicate balance of honouring what the museum has always been while allowing it to evolve into something that can serve future generations.

Public consultation has become a key part of that process, with residents invited in 2026 to help shape what the museum should look like and how it should function. That feels fitting. This has always been a shared space, built not just by curators and councils but by the people who visit, contribute and care about it.

There are still questions, of course. Timelines are uncertain, and the move to a permanent home may take several years. Temporary arrangements will bridge that gap, and there will likely be moments of frustration along the way. But what stands out most is not uncertainty, but resilience.

Even now, the work continues. Collections are being researched, conserved and understood in quiet rooms rather than public galleries. Stories are still being pieced together. Knowledge is still growing.

And somewhere, carefully wrapped and waiting, are those lithics. Silent, patient, carrying the imprint of lives lived thousands of years ago. The fact that they have been handled, sorted and interpreted by people who care deeply about them adds another layer to their story. It becomes a chain of connection, from the original maker to the modern curator, from ancient landscape to present day Buxton.

When the museum opens its doors again, whether in a temporary space or a new permanent home, it will not simply be returning to what it was. It will be stepping into something new, shaped by everything it has been through and by the people who refused to let it fade quietly away.

And if you stand there, looking at a piece of worked flint under soft gallery lights, you might just feel it. That sense of continuity. Of hands across time. Of stories waiting patiently to be told again.

Buxton Museum – From Closure to New Beginnings

Pull up a chair and let me put the kettle on, because this is one of those stories that feels close to home in more ways than one – Buxton has a way of doing that, doesn’t it? The mist rolling down over the hills, the limestone underfoot, the sense that if you dig even a little you will find something older than you expected. Sometimes a fossil, sometimes a story, and sometimes, if you are very lucky, something shaped by human hands thousands of years ago.

Buxton Museum and Art Gallery has always been the place where all those different layers come together. Not in a grand, untouchable way, but in that quietly fascinating, slightly eccentric way that local museums do so well. You could walk in out of the Derbyshire drizzle and find yourself standing in the middle of 360 million years of history, from ancient seas to Roman roads to the tools of people who once walked these same hills with flint in their hands and purpose in their stride.

The museum itself has roots deep in the late nineteenth century, when Buxton was not only a spa town but a place of folklore, culture and curiosity. Like many civic museums of the Victorian and Edwardian era, it was born from the idea that knowledge should be shared, that history and science should not belong solely to scholars but to everyone. Its long time home in the Peak Buildings on Terrace Road became a kind of anchor point for that vision, holding collections that told the story of the Peak District in all its strange and beautiful complexity.

And what a story that is.

The Peak is one of the richest prehistoric landscapes in Britain, a place where Mesolithic hunters once tracked game through woodland that no longer exists, where Neolithic communities raised monuments that still puzzle us, and where Bronze Age burials quietly mark the passing of lives long forgotten. The museum’s archaeological collections have always been central to telling that story, and tucked within them, the lithics collection carries a particular kind of magic. I know this because I, along with my good friend Bob, were once part of the team that sorted them.

There is something about lithics that stops you in your tracks. These are not decorative objects or curiosities. They are tools, shaped with intent, held in real hands, used in moments of survival. When you handle them, even through gloves and careful procedure, there is a flicker of connection. The angle of a blade, the precision of a strike, the quiet evidence of skill passed from one generation to another. The work of curation – sorting, cataloguing and understanding museum artefacts – is meticulous and often unseen, but it is the foundation on which everything else is built. Without that work, the stories remain silent.

Over the years, the museum grew into something much broader than a simple collection of ‘things’. It became a place that told the entire story of the Peak District, from deep geological time through to modern social history. Visitors could move through the corridors from fossils and Blue John stone to Roman jewellery, medieval relics and the industrial heritage that shaped the town itself. It was a place where everything connected if you took the time to look.

A turning point came in 2017 with the redevelopment of the Wonders of the Peak gallery, a project that brought new life and energy into the museum. Funded in part by Arts Council England, it transformed the way the collections were displayed, making them more immersive, more accessible and more engaging for a wider audience. Suddenly, this quiet local museum was drawing over 30,000 visitors a year, hosting exhibitions, workshops and even collaborations with institutions like the British Museum. There was a sense that little old Buxton’s story was not just local after all, but part of something much, much bigger.

The museum also began to shift in how it invited people in. Gone was the stuffy, old fashioned sense that everything must be observed at a distance. In its place came a more hands on approach, encouraging curiosity, exploration and connection. Families, researchers, school groups and the simply curious all found something to hold onto there, whether literally or figuratively.

And then, as so often happens with buildings that have stood a long time, reality intervened. Structural concerns with the Peak Buildings led to the museum’s closure in 2023. It is difficult to overstate how much that changed things. This was not just a case of locked doors. It was the temporary loss of a space that had quietly held the town’s memory for generations.

Behind the scenes, an enormous amount of work began almost immediately. Over 100,000 objects had to be carefully packed, documented and moved into secure storage. Each one handled with the same care it had received on display, perhaps more so, because now it had to endure uncertainty. Staff adapted, shifting their focus to outreach and temporary displays, with Buxton Library becoming a kind of lifeline for keeping the museum’s presence alive in the community.

The community, for its part, did not stay quiet.

In 2024, hundreds of people turned out in support of the museum, a reminder that this was never just a place tourists visited but something woven into everyday life. When a museum like this closes, even temporarily, it leaves a gap you can feel.

Now, in 2026, the story is shifting again, and there is a cautious sense of movement. Funding from Arts Council England has supported plans for a new temporary home near Buxton Library, with exhibition spaces, a shop and areas for activities and education. It is not a permanent solution, but it is a vital step, a way of bringing the collections back into public view and restoring that connection between people and place.

At the same time, Derbyshire County Council has committed to finding a permanent new location within the town centre as part of wider regeneration plans. It is an ambitious goal, and one that will take time. There are practical challenges, funding considerations and the delicate balance of honouring what the museum has always been while allowing it to evolve into something that can serve future generations.

Public consultation has become a key part of that process, with residents invited in 2026 to help shape what the museum should look like and how it should function. That feels fitting. This has always been a shared space, built not just by curators and councils but by the people who visit, contribute and care about it.

There are still questions, of course. Timelines are uncertain, and the move to a permanent home may take several years. Temporary arrangements will bridge that gap, and there will likely be moments of frustration along the way. But what stands out most is not uncertainty, but resilience.

Even now, the work continues. Collections are being researched, conserved and understood in quiet rooms rather than public galleries. Stories are still being pieced together. Knowledge is still growing.

And somewhere, carefully wrapped and waiting, are those lithics. Silent, patient, carrying the imprint of lives lived thousands of years ago. The fact that they have been handled, sorted and interpreted by people who care deeply about them adds another layer to their story. It becomes a chain of connection, from the original maker to the modern curator, from ancient landscape to present day Buxton.

When the museum opens its doors again, whether in a temporary space or a new permanent home, it will not simply be returning to what it was. It will be stepping into something new, shaped by everything it has been through and by the people who refused to let it fade quietly away.

And if you stand there, looking at a piece of worked flint under soft gallery lights, you might just feel it. That sense of continuity. Of hands across time. Of stories waiting patiently to be told again.

✍️ A organização do X Congresso de História Local acolhe propostas de comunicações até ao dia 31 de Julho. A decorrer no Porto, o tema deste ano é "História local hoje: escalas, territórios, arquivos, comunidades e governação".

ℹ️ https://ihc.fcsh.unl.pt/events/x-congresso-historia-local/

#Histodons #LocalHistory #HistóriaLocal #CFP

90% of Local History Data Was Staff's 'How to Quit' Search Cache

Decades of 'how to resign' searches on archives PC, now cultural heritage.

https://alt.andpaper.net/en/articles/20260423-local-history-memory-crash/

#AltAndPaperEN #Resignation #LocalHistory

90% of Local History Data Was Staff's 'How to Quit' Search Cache

Decades of 'how to resign' searches on archives PC, now cultural heritage.

https://alt.andpaper.net/en/articles/20260423-local-history-memory-crash/

#AltAndPaperEN #Resignation #LocalHistory

The image featured in this post adorns a postcard sent from Pancevo to Vienna back in 1934. At that time, today's Freedom Square (better known as Limeni Park) was called King Alexander Square, and the street was known as Vojvoda Putnik Street.

🔎 View the photograph:
https://uliceistorije.rs/sr/fotografija/100593803138

❤️ Support our work and the preservation of Pancevo's cultural heritage:
https://pansej.org.rs/донирајте

(Translated from Serbian by Claude)

#history #localhistory #streetsofhistory #pancevo #serbia

started #wikipedia articles on two more women with #folklore #localhistory interests: Isabel Gordon Carter (1897-1988) was an anthropologist who recorded folk songs and stories of the Southern Appalachians: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isabel_Gordon_Carter Anna Medora Brockway Gray (1851-1931) was a physician and local historian of Michigan's Upper Peninsula: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anna_Medora_Brockway_Gray Both were alums of Albion College. @wikiwomeninred #Michigan #Tennessee

started a #wikipedia article about Nevada anthropologist, local historian, Grace Dangberg (1896-1985): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grace_Dangberg @wikiwomeninred #CarsonValley #Washoe #localhistory #Berkeley #anthropology

There's something special about seeing how places change, even over a relatively short period of time.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ccvK2OrCJ3Y

#dtoakville #filmphotography #photography #travel #localhistory #believeinfilm #shootfilmbenice

Пре два дана сам започео израду нове верзије сајта за чување културно-историјског наслеђа Панчева. Овога пута, пројекат се шири и визија је да овај сајт буде централни сајт за више градова. Објављиваћу свој напредак овде.

#localhistory #urbanhistory #builtheritage #historicpreservation #digitalheritage #serbia #pancevo #balkans #streetsofhistory #uliceistorije #улицеисторије #панчево #србија

City Beautiful Blog takes a look at Chelsea — one of Manhattan's most layered neighborhoods. The Oreo was invented in what is now Chelsea Market. The Hotel Chelsea sheltered Mark Twain, Bob Dylan, and Leonard Cohen. The land under London Terrace once belonged to the author of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas. And the High Line transformed an abandoned freight rail line into one of the city's most celebrated parks.
#NYCHistory #Architecture #NYC #LocalHistory #UrbanDesign
https://citybeautifulblog.com/chelsea-highlights/

Gateway to Olsberg’s industrial history

Entrance to the ‘Maxstollen’ in the ‘Briloner Eisenberg’.

March 2005 (Hans Martin Köster)

#DoorsDay #Olsberg #Brilon #Eisenberg #BrilonerEisenberg #Maxstollen #Sauerland #Hochsauerland #Mining #History #IndustrialHistory #LocalHistory #Snow #Industry #Bergbau #Geschichte #Industriegeschichte #Heimatgeschichte #Schnee #Industrie

Entrance to the underworld

Entrance to the 'Allerheiligenstollen' in the 'Briloner Eisenberg'.

February 2003 (Hans Martin Köster)

#DoorsDay #Olsberg #Brilon #Eisenberg #BrilonerEisenberg #Allerheiligenstollen #Sauerland #Hochsauerland #Mining #History #IndustrialHistory #LocalHistory #Bergbau #Geschichte #industry #Industrie #Industriegeschichte #Heimatgeschichte

The Waldorf Astoria began as a calculated social insult. William Waldorf Astor built a luxury hotel next to his aunt's mansion just to annoy her. City Beautiful Blog traces the full story, from that Gilded Age family feud to FDR's secret railway platform beneath the Park Avenue building. A well-told piece of New York history.
#NYCHistory #GildedAge #Architecture #NewYork #LocalHistory
https://citybeautifulblog.com/the-waldorf-astoria-on-park-avenue/

Join Internet Archive and Partners for the National Summit on Local News Preservation

https://web.brid.gy/r/https://blog.archive.org/2026/03/23/nationalnewssummit/

Did you know the Hudson River feels the ocean's tidal pull all the way to Troy, 153 miles north of New York Harbor? Michelle Young of Untapped New York explains why that makes ice on the Hudson flow both north and south — sometimes within the same day. A short but genuinely interesting read for anyone who has ever watched the river in winter.
#HudsonRiver #NewYorkHistory #NYC #LocalHistory #Estuary
https://www.untappedcities.com/cities-101-why-is-the-ice-on-the-hudson-river-flowing-both-ways/?ref=daily-newsletter

On this day in 1581/2, Christopher Chevers died. The Journals show a drawing of a stone from Macetown Castle, Co. Meath, bearing his coat of arms and that of his wife, Anne Plunket: https://tinyurl.com/chev1581

The original drawing on which this was based, by George Victor Du Noyer, is at the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland: https://rsai.locloudhosting.net/items/show/22416

Learn about the Journals at https://MemsDead.com

#OTD #Genealogy #IrishGenealogy #LocalHistory #IrishLocalHistory #Heraldry #Meath

On this day in 1581/2, Christopher Chevers died. The Journals show a drawing of a stone from Macetown Castle, Co. Meath, bearing his coat of arms and that of his wife, Anne Plunket: https://tinyurl.com/chev1581

The original drawing on which this was based, by George Victor Du Noyer, is at the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland: https://rsai.locloudhosting.net/items/show/22416

Learn about the Journals at https://MemsDead.com

#OTD #Genealogy #IrishGenealogy #LocalHistory #IrishLocalHistory #Heraldry #Meath

On this day in 1581/2, Christopher Chevers died. The Journals show a drawing of a stone from Macetown Castle, Co. Meath, bearing his coat of arms and that of his wife, Anne Plunket: https://tinyurl.com/chev1581

The original drawing on which this was based, by George Victor Du Noyer, is at the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland: https://rsai.locloudhosting.net/items/show/22416

Learn about the Journals at https://MemsDead.com

#OTD #Genealogy #IrishGenealogy #LocalHistory #IrishLocalHistory #Heraldry #Meath

City Beautiful Blog has put together a guide to NYC's most beautiful restaurant interiors, and the history behind each space is as compelling as the design. A railroad tycoon's pantsless office inside Grand Central. The sheepfold that became Tavern on the Green. Aaron Burr's carriage house in the West Village. Fraunces Tavern, where Washington said farewell to his officers. Worth reading slowly.
#NYCHistory #Architecture #NYC #LocalHistory #HistoricPreservation
https://citybeautifulblog.com/nycs-restaurants-with-beautiful-interiors/

Happy St. Patrick's Day! ☘️

Donaghanie graveyard in Clogherny, Co. Tyrone, is named after a legend about St. Patrick using a horse to drive a monster out of a lake!

The Irish word péist was used to describe the monster - see its definition: https://teanglann.ie/en/fgb/p%C3%A9ist

And hear how it is pronounced: https://teanglann.ie/en/fuaim/p%C3%A9ist

Find out more about Donaghanie in the Journals: https://tinyurl.com/donaghanie

Learn about the Journals at https://MemsDead.com

#StPatricksDay #LocalHistory #IrishLocalHistory

My latest #localHistory post looks at my hometown's biggest park, Collins Park, long a center of community along the #MohawkRiver. As some old pictures show, it was sometimes hard to tell apart from the river during floods. I also found a surprise (short-lived) race track once on the grounds of the park.

https://hoxsie.org/2026/03/16/collins-park-and-lakeview-park/

#ScotiaNY #Schenectady #histodons

NEATH LEGEND: Hollywood’s first Welsh Oscar winner honoured with blue plaque at childhood home

The tribute was unveiled at the house on Dalton Road where the legendary actor lived from the age of four.

Milland, who was born Alfred Reginald Jones in 1907, remains a titan of the silver screen and was once Paramount’s highest-paid star.

The installation follows a special exhibition at Melincryddan Community Hall on Friday, March 6, which brought together relatives, fans, and local dignitaries.

Organised by the Neath Antiquarian Society, the event marked the 80th anniversary of Milland’s historic Academy Award win for his role in The Lost Weekend.

He was the first Welsh actor to ever scoop an Oscar, a feat that cemented his place in cinematic history alongside greats like Grace Kelly and John Wayne.

The plaque was successfully nominated by the Neath Antiquarian Society through Neath Port Talbot Council’s Blue Plaque Scheme.

It serves as a permanent reminder of a man who told the world he was from Neath, even at the height of his global fame.

Jonathan Davies, Chair of the Neath Antiquarian Society, hailed Milland’s “varied and lasting” career which spanned more than 55 years.

“From romantic leads to comedy, horror, Broadway Theatre and his own TV shows, I don’t think there are many other careers in Hollywood that have been as varied or lasted as long,” he said.

“Over the course of 55 years, he won everything; Oscar, Grammy, Cannes Film Festival, the lot.”

The actor’s incredible journey saw him serve in the Royal Horse Guards before a chance meeting with an American actress convinced him to try his hand at acting.

His 1929 debut in The Flying Scotsman led to a contract with MGM and a move to Hollywood that would change his life forever.

Milland went on to star in classics such as Alfred Hitchcock’s Dial M for Murder and the terrifying spy thriller Ministry of Fear.

Despite his stardom, he never forgot his roots, famously being “lionised” in Cardiff in 1946 and touring Neath by car during a visit in 1947.

Councillor Cen Phillips, Cabinet Member for Nature, Tourism and Wellbeing for Neath Port Talbot Council, said the plaque celebrates a key part of the area’s “incredible cultural legacy.”

The ceremony was attended by Milland’s relatives and local residents, including the current tenant of the house on Dalton Road.

Funding for the 2026 Commemorative Blue Plaque window will open from April 1 to September 30 for new nominations.

The scheme is part of the council’s wider Heritage Strategy, supported by the National Lottery Heritage Fund to restore and celebrate local history.

Man, this place has *everything*

#historicalMaps #OldMaps #SanbornMaps #ScotiaNY #LocalHistory

ROCK THIS TOWN RETURNS WITH A NEW ERA OF MUSIC HISTORY

Rock This Town: A New Wave premiered Friday, Feb. 26, 2026, to a sold-out crowd at The Princess Original Cinemas in Uptown Waterloo. The documentary is a follow-up of sorts to 2022’s Rock This Town which told the story of the music scene in Kitchener Waterloo during the 1960s and ’70s.   

A New Wave recaps the music of the 80s and goes through the venues, promoters and stories that made up that period in the region’s cultural history.   

At its best, A New Wave feels like cozying up with a couple of Kitchener Waterloo Main stays to reminiscence on a bygone era. The height of the documentary comes from interesting tales on bands like The Psychedelic Furs, Echo and The Bunnymen and Teenage Head. Venues pop up and close, record store parties and late nights at Pop The Gator and The Backdoor paint an engaging picture of a nightlife in a city that has shifted.   

While many things change, many also stay the same. Watching the movie, some similarities became evident. The film recalls a venue that occupied The Huether Hotel, at the time called Upstairs At The Kent. The film recalls that the Adlys family had some extra space, and the young, eager concert promoters made use of this space to host their own rock shows.   

Recently, youngsters have once again found some unused space at The Huether Hotel, hosting DIY concerts in the basement of the hotel. Thirty years and the only thing that has changed is rock music has walked down a couple of flights of stairs at the Huether.   

 Rock This Town: A New Wave suffers from trying to tell the general story of pop music in the 80s from a broader lens. While this material is important to give context to concert going in KW, it felt shallow and beyond the scope of the film. The film shines when the story gets specific. Let’s hear about the time Iggy Pop wouldn’t let any non-female reporters over the age of 22 interview him at Bingemans, and not the general story of the British punk scene beginnings. There are other documentaries that focus on those topics.   

Seeing a film like this in the place that it is focused on is a special kind of experience. Kitchener Waterloo, and generally Canadian film making has been lucky in recent years to receive this kind of treatment. Seeing the film in a packed theatre brought back memories of seeing Blackberry in Waterloo filled with ex-RIM employees. It was clear the film meant something to the people sitting in the audience.   

Audiences would gasp when shots of King Street would reveal the Walper Hotel, and people could be seen leaning over to exclaim to a family member “I was at that show”. A testament to the important work a documentary like this does could certainly be seen in the excited faces of theatre goers as they left the film.   

One such attendee stopped Gary Stewart, the producer of the film, in the lobby.  

“I was at that Clash show—how did you even get them,” they said.  

“Well, I called up their booker, and they agreed to come to Kitchener. No Mick Jones, which was a drag, but it was still great to do The Clash,” Stewart said.   

Stewart sees technology, and the overwhelming level of options available for entertainment today as the primary reason that concert going has suffered as a past time. He also cites the rising cost of living as an additional factor in the lack of concert culture.  

“Going to a concert was sort of a badge of honor. Music was just so big, and the hairstyles and clothing. And in the late 90s early 2000s, tech started driving the culture. We were one of the places in the world that really drove tech with U of W and Blackberry and that whole story. And that really changed things,” he said.   

“There are lots of options, but it’s also a lot more expensive. It’s not unusual to spend 200 bucks to go see a concert…It’s really changed,” Stewart said.  

Overall, Rock This Town: A New Wave does exactly its job. The film is a must-see for anyone that experienced music in this town at that point in history.   

The stories are poignant and fun, and the archival footage of bands and concerts are beautiful. The whole team has done a great job and it’s clearly a labor of love to the town  the scene in which they were involved.    

“Support your local artists. Try new things,” Stewart said.  

Happy International Women’s Day!

Relignaman "women's graveyard" is near Carrickmore, Co. Tyrone. The Journals tell the story associated with its origins: https://tinyurl.com/relignaman

Learn about the Journals at https://MemsDead.com

#IWD2026 #LocalHistory #IrishLocalHistory #Tyrone

What sets Tottenville History Comes Alive apart? The "Imagine" sections let you experience history: what you'd see, hear, feel in 1680 or 1776. Journalism meets historical research meets experiential learning.
Two volumes are available covering 17th-18th centuries. If this approach to local history worked for you, Amazon reviews help it reach more readers.
#HistoricalNonfiction #TottenvilleHistory #StatenIsland #ExperientialLearning #LocalHistory
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FT1GQPPJ

I will be giving a talk at the next monthly meeting of the Balwyn Historical Society.

The topic will be on the huge floods that devastated Victoria in 1934 with a focus on how it affected Balwyn and the surrounding areas.

The talk will be held on Thursday 12 March at 7:30pm at the Balwyn Library at 333 Whitehorse Road in Balwyn.

More information here: https://members.philipmallis.com/upcoming-talk-at-balwyn-historical-society-12-march-2026/

Hope to see you there!

#Melbourne #LocalHistory #MelbourneEvents

Smithsonian: Smithsonian Launches Regional Collaboratives, a National Initiative To Strengthen Community Partnerships Across the Country. “The Smithsonian will work alongside local partners to align expertise, collections, research and educational resources to create projects that span from traveling exhibitions, conservation training and research partnerships, to civic education and youth […]

Smithsonian: Smithsonian Launches Regional Collaboratives, a National Initiative To Strengthen Community Partnerships Across the Country. “The Smithsonian will work alongside local partners to align expertise, collections, research and educational resources to create projects that span from traveling exhibitions, conservation training and research partnerships, to civic education and youth […]

Smithsonian: Smithsonian Launches Regional Collaboratives, a National Initiative To Strengthen Community Partnerships Across the Country. “The Smithsonian will work alongside local partners to align expertise, collections, research and educational resources to create projects that span from traveling exhibitions, conservation training and research partnerships, to civic education and youth […]

Smithsonian: Smithsonian Launches Regional Collaboratives, a National Initiative To Strengthen Community Partnerships Across the Country. “The Smithsonian will work alongside local partners to align expertise, collections, research and educational resources to create projects that span from traveling exhibitions, conservation training and research partnerships, to civic education and youth […]

#1206 C.W. Bracken - A History of Plymouth and Her Neighbours. S.R. Publishers Ltd, Wakefield, County History Reprints, 1970, facsimile reprint of 1931 edition.

#CWBracken #SRPublishers #Plymouth #Devon #LocalHistory #BookOfTheDay

Dropped some #zines off at Mindset Boardshop in Sarasota. The owner, Ryan, just moved here a year ago, is into #PunkRock and sometimes uses the parking lot behind his shop as a place for bands to play. I’m so excited to share this stuff with folks in town who have no idea about Sarasota’s #PunkPast.
#ParadiseLost #skateboarding #Florida #LocalHistory #OralHistory #PrintMedia #IndependentPublishing

On my #Localhistory blog, I explore some of the history of the 1730 building that houses the cutest little library in the world (in my estimation), and one of the places that fundamentally shaped me. Here's the story of Scotia, NY's Abraham Glen house:

https://hoxsie.org/2026/02/18/the-abraham-glen-house-the-scotia-public-library/

#ScotiaNY #scotia #schenectady #histodons #libraries #PublicLibraries

Working through updates to our ghost signs book* I was reminded of this one that proved somewhat elusive back in 2020/21. Can anyone find out any more?

Here's its current entry, with its transcription by @RoyReed in the alt text for what is his photo.

Hodgins

Clues to the provenance of this sign have been hard to come by, although Collis Removal Service was here in 1934. Possible Hodgins in the area are two Thomas Hodgins, father and son, who were coal traders for at least twenty years from around 1891.

Chesson Road W14 (corner of Turneville Road): https://maps.app.goo.gl/4nanDHm2gETwp2u69

*The book is to be reissued in a new compact format. Here is the information about the first edition: https://ghostsigns.co.uk/book.

#Ghostsigns #Hodgins #London #W14 #LocalHistory #AskFedi

For lovers of maps and/or Victorian history, I wrote up some notes about exploring georeferenced maps from the State Library of Victoria. https://updates.timsherratt.org/2026/02/12/exploring-georeferenced-maps-from-the.html #localHistory #spatialHistory #ozHist

I'm considering launching a Tottenville History publication on Medium, a space for personal stories, family histories, and memories that bring our neighborhood's past to life. This wouldn't just be my voice telling our story; it would be all of us contributing to a richer, more complete historical record. If you have a Tottenville story to tell, I want to hear about it.

#TottenvilleHistory #StatenIsland #LocalHistory #CommunityVoices #PublicHistory

https://medium.com/@AngieMangino/im-considering-starting-a-tottenville-history-publication-on-medium-5f250263db41?sk=871d39a159620a9ec1923446cdbf3cef

Today a bit of #Advertising for the new issue of "Hessischen Genealogie ( #Hessian #Genealogy ), the journal of @HfV_eV, #Familienkunde Nassau and GFKW:

https://shop.odw-verlag.de/Hessische-Genealogie-1-2026

It includes “#Lampertheim emigrants to #Chillicothe”, an article by me about the #History of the #Migration of around 400 #Refugees from my #Hometown to the former #Capital of #Ohio, #USA.

#FamilyHistory #Hessia #Germany #America #Emigration #GermanEmigration #LocalHistory #GermanSettlers #HistoricalResearch

I'm reading through the 1974 Bedford Record centenary edition, and this article on our county's traditional pasty, the Bedfordshire Clanger, is interesting.
#LocalHistory #Bedfordshire

Happy St. Brigid's Day! The Journals record how this day was commemorated in Ballycallan, Co. Kilkenny, in the late 19th century: tinyurl.com/stbrig

Learn about the Journals at MemsDead.com

#StBrigidsDay #Brigid #IrishHistory #LocalHistory #Kilkenny #OTD

I'm considering launching a Tottenville History publication on Medium—a collaborative space for residents, genealogists, teachers, history enthusiasts, and writers to contribute their stories. Personal memories, family histories, genealogical discoveries, historical research, teaching resources. If you have a Tottenville connection and a story to share, I'd love to hear from you.

#TottenvilleHistory #StatenIsland #LocalHistory #Genealogy #PublicHistory

https://medium.com/@AngieMangino/im-considering-starting-a-tottenville-history-publication-on-medium-5f250263db41?sk=871d39a159620a9ec1923446cdbf3ce