Fellow Feature: The Smallest Gift for the Greatest Generation

The following was submitted by 2022-2023 Public Broadcasting Preservation Fellow, Catherine Cubera.

There is a quote that says, “Make visible what, without you, might perhaps never have been seen.”

As I reflect on the last year of my life, this quote has become a mantra of sorts that helped me navigate the highs and lows of working as the 2022-2023 PBPF Fellow at the East Tennessee PBS Station in Knoxville, Tennessee.

Lucky for me, my mentor told me that the station had a series of local World War II oral histories. I couldn’t wait to get started…but “wait” is exactly what I had to do.

Through a series of events, such as an unavoidable delayed delivery of essential equipment, I began my time at the station several months into what should have been the start of my fellowship. I will admit that this feeling of being behind never quite left me throughout the entirety of this experience; but as I reflect on it now, I have more gratitude for the bumps in the road along the way.

If I am being brutally honest with this blog post, I must admit that I spent much of this fellowship with a terrible amount of anxiety. I wasn’t prepared for the intimidation that came along with handling priceless, irreplaceable material.

What if a tape breaks while it’s in the middle of digitizing? What if I somehow override the recording and lose the video?

In hindsight, I realize that these fears sound silly; but for many of us just entering the profession, and certainly for me, the weight of imposter syndrome and my fears that I wasn’t capable of accomplishing the goals set before me were crippling.

Again, I was lucky to have a mentor who reassured me that it was highly unlikely that I would damage a tape. And even if the worst did happen (and my tape deck ate a tape as a midafternoon snack), it would still be alright.

So, I dove in anyway, simply because the only way out was through. And I’m grateful that I did. Because if I hadn’t, the unique World World II stories of forty-three men and women would still be in the dark.

This may be a tiny collection, but its tales are varied and rich.

There was so much to be unearthed here.

Within them, you will hear many stories. Stories of battle wounds and Purple Hearts. Stories of Pearl Harbor and the Battle of the Bulge. Stories of prisoners of war and segregated troops. Stories of medics and nurses. Stories of fallen friends and brothers in combat. Stories of letters sent and received from home. Stories of far-away lands across the globe, reaching from the trenches of Europe, to the beaches of the South Pacific, to the deserts of North Africa.

These digitizations aren’t perfect. Some of the videos have audio or light issues. Some of the videos experienced an automatic magnetic stopping when I was close to the end of the tape, interrupting the flow.

But now, with their imperfections and all, these videos will be available to the public in a way that they were not before.

So, at the end of this experience, I have asked myself: What did I learn? I have learned to not let perfect be the enemy of good.

I have learned that the only way to become comfortable with a new skill is simply by doing, even when you’re unsure of your steps along the way.

I have learned that even when it’s uncomfortable, it’s important to ask questions, ask for help, and ask for what you need. You are your own best advocate.

I’ll admit that I learned these lessons the hard way.

But, there were also profound victories to be found in this experience alongside its struggles.

One of the most surprising outcomes of this fellowship was what came at the end of it. This summer, I knew that there was one more World War II oral history that needed to be recorded and preserved: my beloved Grandmother’s.

As we sat at her kitchen table, a gathering place that has hosted over sixty years of meals and conversations for our family, I set up my iPhone and began to record.

At a spry (and still feisty) ninety-six years old, my Grandmother regaled me with stories of her life as a young teenager in World War II. She described meeting my Grandfather when he was home on leave from the Navy and of his experiences in the Pacific.

As she described what life was like for her during those war years, I realized that without the PBPF Fellowship, I most likely would never have been inspired to initiate this priceless interview. But because of it, I have now heard stories from my Grandmother that will stay with me forever, as will the precious memory and experience of interviewing her about her life.

I know that there will come a day when I am no longer able to ask my Grandmother these questions. And that’s the bittersweet beauty of capturing an oral history: the stories captured will live on long after their owners are no longer here to tell those stories themselves.

That’s one of the reasons the work done by the PBPF and its partners is so integral for preserving cultural heritage for the next generation. Every digitized tape is another step towards the goal of preserving our shared history.

If I could give any advice for future PBPF fellows out there, this is the lesson that I encourage you to embrace:

Although you may experience setbacks and struggles throughout your fellowship, remember that through your station placement and work, you are in a unique position to safeguard and preserve priceless stories.

And like me, that history you learn to preserve may just be your own. “Make visible what, without you, might perhaps never have been seen.”