Monday Moments with M. G.: Columbus Day, Regional Stories, and the Author’s Frame

How place, perspective, and the choices of a writer shape the stories we inherit

Welcome to Monday Moments with M. G. This week, Columbus Day offers an opportunity to think not only about history, but also about how history is written. A national observance may appear to tell one shared story, yet its meaning changes from region to region. The same is true for an author’s work: every story is shaped by where the writer stands, what the writer places inside the frame, and what remains just beyond its edges.

Like Writing a Book, the Story Depends on the Frame

Writing regional history is much like writing a book. An author must decide where the story begins, whose point of view guides the reader, which events become turning points, and what context belongs on the page. Beginning with Columbus at sea creates one narrative arc; beginning with Taíno communities before the ships appear creates another. The facts may overlap, but the frame changes what readers understand as the central story.

Good book writing also requires research beyond a single source or viewpoint. A writer listens for voices that earlier accounts minimized, studies the setting, checks inherited assumptions, and shows how the past continues to affect the present. In the same way, telling the history of Columbus Day responsibly means treating place as more than scenery. The region helps determine the characters, conflicts, silences, and consequences that give the story its meaning.

A Fuller Story Is Not a Smaller One

A fuller story does not require choosing one community’s history at the expense of another. Recognizing the harm that followed European arrival does not require erasing Italian American history. Honoring immigrant resilience does not require overlooking Indigenous experience. Like a well-researched book, mature public memory can hold more than one truth at a time while remaining honest about power and consequence.

The most useful question, then, may not be, “Which story wins?” It may be, “What does this region teach us to notice?” Answering that question requires turning to local museums, tribal cultural centers, historic sites, oral histories, family traditions, and community archives, where one date becomes many different commemorations. These sources also remind us that Indigenous peoples are not confined to the past and that immigrant heritage is more complex than a single symbol.

History is never told from nowhere. It is shaped by coastlines and migration routes, by homelands and neighborhoods, by who was welcomed, who was displaced, and who preserved a story long enough for others to hear it. On Columbus Day—and on Indigenous Peoples’ Day—the history of the region does more than provide background. It shapes the meaning of the day itself.

From the Page: Antiquities

As he finished the sweep, including their luggage, he began to talk. “You choose whichever room you wish. I’ll move your luggage for you. I wanted it all left in here so that no one would know whether we slept together or apart, or in which room, for security reasons. Thank you for trusting me with this decision.”

She stopped for a moment. “Greg, do you believe we could be in this much danger just trying to find these shabti?”

“Jennifer, I don’t know, but I fear the missing couriers were murdered. If they wanted them that bad, they would go to any lengths to keep us from finding them.” Greg said as he worked his way to the bar and a sparkling water.

“What would you like to drink? I know it is early morning here, but I’m on New York time, and it’s been a couple of hours since we had hydration.”

“I know it sounds crazy, but I’d like coffee, or an espresso if it’s available. Most people, it keeps them awake, but it just doesn’t affect me that way; I can drink it day or night.”

“One espresso coming up,” Greg said as he turned to start processing the beans and making foamy cream for the top of her steaming cup.

“Jennifer, I am expecting company shortly. How soon will depend on when they can be sure they have entered the hotel without being seen. I am giving you the choice to stay for this meeting or stay in another room unseen. I can hook up a camera so you can see and hear the meeting if you would like to be kept from being seen.”

Jennifer thought about what he was saying for another minute. He was serious about the danger here, and he was trying to protect her; she knew that. But these were her clients, and she needed to be present.

“I want to be there. I know that you are trying to protect me and keep me safe, but these are my clients, and I have to be involved.”

He wished it had been different, but it was exactly what he expected of her. As he handed her the steaming espresso, he decided to add to his protection plan.

“Jennifer, you know that I am here to help, but also to protect you. I am hoping that you will understand my reasons for what I am about to say…”

Jennifer looked at him with suspicious eyes. He had to get this out; their time to resolve this was short. “Jennifer, Cairo is modern and ancient all at the same time. It is Egyptian, International, and Arab. I know that you have traveled here before on your own, but never with these huge stakes. Given these kinds of risks, I propose that we boldly let the entire world know we are engaged. It will provide me with more access to you. It will allow me to be near you and be protective without question.”

Jennifer felt her stomach drop into her espresso. What was he trying to do? She felt betrayed. She felt angry. Did he think that she was incapable of protecting herself?

Her anger building, Greg looked into her maple-syrup eyes and saw dark, bittersweet chocolate pools forming as her new color, and knew she was furious. How to douse the fire? “Jennifer, I’ve been thinking about this since I realized that I believed the couriers were murdered. I wasn’t sure until I watched the bellhop look you over, but I am worried about your safety this trip. It’s the only way I can come up with to keep you near at all times so I can do my best work and help find the shabti and protect us both.”

Jennifer’s eyes said she was listening to him; she didn’t like it, but he had made a reasonable case for them to be together. Another logical solution to a complicated issue, and she could think of no other logical option.

“On one condition, you treat me as a partner…full partner. We make decisions together; we take risks together, and you don’t dictate to me.”

“When I can, I will absolutely follow those guidelines. I would anyway. But if it’s your safety or finding the shabti, I will make decisions, and I expect you to follow my lead!”

Jennifer quietly exploded. “I am not going to do as I am told! I am not going to go along just because I am female and you make the rules. It is not happening.”

“Jennifer, Mia dolcezza, my sweet, I am not trying to control or own you, but if it is a matter of safety and danger…there will be no discussion; you will do as I ask. Otherwise, we both might end up dead! Do you understand?” he said with a fierceness, a possessive tone she suddenly got. He wasn’t kidding; they might be in perilous danger.

“Okay, I will do my best. But Greg, we are partners, agreed?” she said, her voice icy and trying to contain the frustrated anger.

“Agreed.” He said as her eyes started to return to their syrupy color.

In this scene from Antiquities, Cairo is more than a backdrop. Its modern, ancient, Egyptian, international, and Arab identities shape the danger Greg and Jennifer perceive, the roles they believe they must play, and their debate over protection, partnership, and control. As the author, I chose this regional frame because setting changes what characters notice and how readers understand their choices. Columbus Day is framed in much the same way: its meaning shifts according to where the story begins, whose experience guides it, and which voices are given authority. Whether we are writing fiction or remembering history, the frame never merely surrounds the story—it helps create its meaning.

This Monday’s Moment

Whether we are considering a public holiday or opening a novel, we should ask: Where does this story begin? Whose region defines the map? Which voices guide us, and which ones must we seek beyond the familiar account? Authors make these choices sentence by sentence. Communities make them through monuments, school lessons, ceremonies, and the names they give to days.

This Monday, I am reflecting on the responsibility shared by writers and readers: to recognize the frame, to look beyond it, and to remain open to a fuller story. Regional differences do not necessarily divide the truth. Often, they show us how much of the truth becomes visible only when we are willing to view it from more than one shore.

Until Next Time,