What is the difference between an object and a historical artifact?

That was the question rattling in my brain last week as my wife and I toured across Pennsylvania.

It sounds like a pretty heavy question to ponder when you are on vacation. But the thought kept nagging me as we went from one historical site to another last week.

When we had finished reliving my childhood in the Pennsylvania suburbs last week, we set out to visit some of the places I had always wanted to see. The Amish countryside, Gettysburg, President Eisenhower’s home, Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater and numerous other sites were on our agenda.

I grew up in a family that used vacations as a time for relaxation and entertainment. There were few instances where the Hillyers were spotted visiting an old Civil War battlefield or similar historic site.

When we did go on an educational trip, I remember being dragged through exhibits filled with objects. It was the 1970s, when the most exciting thing in a museum was the saber-toothed tiger diorama. Most museums were big containers for objects. Indian museum cases displayed pots, baskets and arrowheads. Multicolored rocks and crystals filled the shelves of the mineral and gem museums. Egyptian statues and ancient carvings were the prized possession of large regional museums.

To a kid, these big buildings were nothing more than a big file drawer for objects.

When I first came to Natchez, I will have to admit that this was my first impression of many of the historic homes that I toured.

I felt like once again I was filing through big containers of objects — albeit fancy, exquisite objects. Each house seemed exactly like every other house filled with the same Mallard bed or Old Paris china.

This week’s trip demonstrated to me how much the museum experience has changed since those big-box museum days of my childhood.

Instead of focusing on display cases overflowing with objects our visits to historic sites this past week centered on the one thing that makes the objects important —the story.

There were still many, many objects on display. In Gettysburg alone more than a million visitors each year get the chance to see thousands of artifacts.

The main difference, however between my childhood experiences and this past week’s tours, was that the objects were the backdrop for the story. They were the tools to help tell the story and not the focus of the tour.

Some exhibits used the latest technology to tell their story. Video, audio and computer displays were used to great effect. But in almost all cases it was the stories told by tour guides that were the most fascinating and interesting.

In Gettysburg, our tour guide brought the three-day Civil War battle to life as he drove us across the Pennsylvania countryside.

In Fallingwater, a tale of two men — a merchandising mogul and the world’s greatest architect — and how they created one of the world’s masterpieces of architecture was told as we toured the house.

Ironically, hearing these fascinating narratives made the objects even more valuable and appealing than had I not heard the stories in the first place.

That to me is the difference between object and history.

Since my first days of touring Natchez’s antebellum houses, I have had the opportunity to hear some of the great stories of mystery and intrigue that make our objects unique.

In recent years, some effort has been made to tell some of these stories like those of Longwood, the William Johnson House and the effort to develop a special tour for steamboat passengers in 2005.

Despite the fact that tourists have become savvier and have an appetite for such tales, Natchez’s stories remain largely untold. In many respects the town seems stuck in an age when the objects were the show.

It’s a shame, because Natchez has many great stories to tell, some great storytellers to tell them and many who are ready to listen.

Ben Hillyer is the web editor of The Natchez Democrat. He can be reached at 601-445-3540 or by e-mail at ben.hillyer@natchezdemocrat.com.