"Jon's Fishing License" seems a misnomer. Clearly printed on the license is the name, "Jack Zove." Doesn't the license belong to him?
Assuming a simple answer to ownership of an identifying document, such as a license, passport or birth certificate, is tempting. "Whose name is on it?" While an obvious starting point, the very nature of objects, and history, renders such an assumption a false lead the moment the document is created, and the probability increases with time. Knowing how much time has passed is a critical key to verifying ownership of a legal document issued to a specific person. Asking questions can determine if the object still belongs to whom it was issued. How many years have passed? Is the number less than a human lifetime? Or simply, is Jack Zove still alive?
A Google search provides three hits; all tie the name to memorial gifts to organizations in Philadelphia. While not proof of the death of our Jack Zove, they are reasonable leads. Another search indicates a death certificate exists for a Jack Zove of Pennsylvania. We could pay the fee to obtain that record and solid proof. As it is, we know that Mr. Zove is deceased, who owns his license, and why because we know the story of the object. (Or at least, I do, and you will too, with time.) While one of the challenges of this project is navigating the line between story and history, for now, we will stay focused on our goal of using historical method, not story, to define the license.
We need to also ask what the license's surroundings tell us. In whose possession does the object live? In this case, Jon's, because Jon brought the object to a Storytelling Session hosted by First Person Arts in a quest for objects and stories for the First Person Museum project. How it was or is it used? Seeing the back would show if there was a trout sticker, but still wouldn't prove that he did such fishing. Is there wear on the license? Is it dirty? Scuffed? In a case for pinning to a fishing vest? While these questions can indicate use, we still don't know how Mr. Zove used it. Without proof, the assumption that he used it to fish is still an assumption. What about how Jon uses the license? At this point, unless we use the story, we are limited to what we know about how he does not use it. Jon does not use the license to fish, because PA Lifetime Fishing licenses are only issued to individuals over 65. We have a picture of Jon which indicates he is significantly younger than 65.
Asking questions of the object, of its surroundings, and of other documents can all help place an object in context and provide information about its use. My next post will look at the larger context of popular culture to explore what we know about the societal role of fishing licenses.
Assuming a simple answer to ownership of an identifying document, such as a license, passport or birth certificate, is tempting. "Whose name is on it?" While an obvious starting point, the very nature of objects, and history, renders such an assumption a false lead the moment the document is created, and the probability increases with time. Knowing how much time has passed is a critical key to verifying ownership of a legal document issued to a specific person. Asking questions can determine if the object still belongs to whom it was issued. How many years have passed? Is the number less than a human lifetime? Or simply, is Jack Zove still alive?
A Google search provides three hits; all tie the name to memorial gifts to organizations in Philadelphia. While not proof of the death of our Jack Zove, they are reasonable leads. Another search indicates a death certificate exists for a Jack Zove of Pennsylvania. We could pay the fee to obtain that record and solid proof. As it is, we know that Mr. Zove is deceased, who owns his license, and why because we know the story of the object. (Or at least, I do, and you will too, with time.) While one of the challenges of this project is navigating the line between story and history, for now, we will stay focused on our goal of using historical method, not story, to define the license.
We need to also ask what the license's surroundings tell us. In whose possession does the object live? In this case, Jon's, because Jon brought the object to a Storytelling Session hosted by First Person Arts in a quest for objects and stories for the First Person Museum project. How it was or is it used? Seeing the back would show if there was a trout sticker, but still wouldn't prove that he did such fishing. Is there wear on the license? Is it dirty? Scuffed? In a case for pinning to a fishing vest? While these questions can indicate use, we still don't know how Mr. Zove used it. Without proof, the assumption that he used it to fish is still an assumption. What about how Jon uses the license? At this point, unless we use the story, we are limited to what we know about how he does not use it. Jon does not use the license to fish, because PA Lifetime Fishing licenses are only issued to individuals over 65. We have a picture of Jon which indicates he is significantly younger than 65.
Asking questions of the object, of its surroundings, and of other documents can all help place an object in context and provide information about its use. My next post will look at the larger context of popular culture to explore what we know about the societal role of fishing licenses.
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