Museums in the Ancient Mediterranean

The idea of gathering and displaying objects wasn’t unique to Mesopotamia. In the Greek and Roman worlds, temples often doubled as repositories of offerings, art, and plundered treasures. Sculptures also decorated public gardens, forums, and bathhouses.

The Museum of Alexandria, founded in the third century BCE, was another important milestone in the history of museums. Despite its name, this mouseion — literally a shrine to the Muses — resembled more of a research institute than a gallery. Attached to the famous Library of Alexandria, it housed scholars, lecture halls, and dining rooms rather than artifacts. Still, the institution’s prestige meant that later Europeans revived the word “museum” to describe their own collections.

Curiosity Cabinets

After Ennigaldi’s experiment, it took nearly 2,000 years before anything resembling a museum emerged in Europe. During the Renaissance, wealthy European nobles, merchants, and scholars began assembling “cabinets of curiosity” or “wonder rooms.” These eclectic collections brought together fossils, coins, artworks, scientific instruments, and exotic artifacts from voyages abroad.

The goal was encyclopedic: to contain the world’s marvels in miniature. Visitors might marvel at a stuffed dodo, a mummy’s hand, or a carved gem, all jumbled together without concern for taxonomy. John Tradescant, a gardener to English royalty, famously opened his home and garden in South London to display such a collection, later catalogued and published as the Musaeum Tradescantianum.

These cabinets were largely private, their accessibility subject to the whim of the owner. Yet they laid the foundation for the idea that collections could be displayed for education as well as prestige.

The Birth of the Public Museum

The leap from private collections to public institutions occurred from the 15th through 18th centuries. A turning point came in 1471, when Pope Sixtus IV donated ancient bronze sculptures to the people of Rome. This gift formed the nucleus of the Capitoline Museums, which officially opened in 1734 and are often considered the first truly public art museums.

Another watershed was the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, England. Built to house the collections of the wealthy antiquary Elias Ashmole and the Tradescant family, it opened its doors in 1683 and is frequently cited as the first modern museum. Its displays included antiquities, coins, zoological specimens, and the (now-lost) body of the last dodo seen in Europe.

By the mid-18th century, museums were firmly established. The British Museum, founded in 1753 from the collection of Irish physician and naturalist Hans Sloane, institutionalized the model: publicly accessible repositories dedicated to collecting, preserving, and classifying the world’s knowledge. The Louvre, transformed into a national museum during the French Revolution in 1793, underscored the museum’s political as well as cultural significance.

The First Museum

So, what was the first museum? The answer depends on how you define “museum.” If we mean the first known collection curated for historical interest and accompanied by labels, the title belongs to Princess Ennigaldi’s collection in Ur. If we mean the first public institution designed to grant ordinary people access to cultural treasures, the Capitoline Museums of Rome claim the honor. And if we mean the first modern museum in the European sense — systematic, educational, and encyclopedic — the Ashmolean in Oxford stands out.

Each reflects a different stage in humanity’s enduring desire to preserve the past and make meaning from material culture. The museum has never been a single invention, but rather a recurring impulse across time: the need to gather objects, organize them, and invite others to see what stories they tell. In that sense, the first museum may not be a place at all, but an idea that keeps resurfacing whenever people try to make sense of history through things.

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Intercom Systems

They may seem quaint now compared to sophisticated smart home systems, but there was a time when built-in intercoms were a handy home tool. As postwar suburban homes grew bigger in the 1950s and ’60s, families could use them to communicate with each other from different parts of the house. A voice from the kitchen would announce dinner, remind someone to take out the trash, or check who was home — all without anyone leaving their room.

Intercoms such as the ones made by NuTone were primarily fixtures of upscale homes. They were marketed as a luxury convenience that could also broadcast AM and FM radio throughout the house. But the novelty of intercoms didn’t last long, and by the 1980s, some major intercom manufacturers such as GE had ceased making them. 

Milk Doors

In the 19th and early 20th centuries, a little door on the side of the house was a common sight for many American families, but it wasn’t for letters or for a pet to scurry in and out. These built-in compartments, which usually had two doors, one on the outside and one on the inside of the compartment, were for milk. This was during an era when milkmen delivered glass bottles of fresh milk to the home. The milk doors were a receptacle for new bottles, and a place for families to return empty ones and leave the milkman’s payment. 

Milk delivery continued for decades throughout the U.S. But by the 1960s and ’70s, it was competing with a new reality. Suburban sprawl made delivery routes longer and more costly, supermarkets offered cheaper one-stop shopping, and refrigerators became standard in nearly every home. Daily milk delivery was no longer needed, and remaining milk doors became little more than a symbolic portal to the past.

Razor Blade Disposals

Perhaps one of the strangest bygone house features is the built-in razor-blade disposal. Prior to the early 20th century, men would need to visit the barber for a fresh shave, since doing so at home was considered too risky. But thanks to the invention of the safety razor in 1904, at-home shaving became the norm. While this was a major leap forward in convenience, the disposable razor blades were a nuisance when it came time to throw them out. Too sharp (and potentially contaminated) for the regular trash, they were instead placed into the wall. 

That’s right — small openings were incorporated into the back of medicine cabinets or in the walls above sinks. Once the blades went in, they didn’t come out. They often stayed inside the walls, accumulating until someone decided to renovate somewhere down the line. By the mid-1970s, fully disposable razors with the blade built right in became popular, and these strange little slots went out of style.

Popcorn Ceilings

Love them or hate them, popcorn ceilings were once everywhere. The infamous finish first became popular in the 1950s, when postwar homes were being built quickly and cheaply to accommodate booming populations. Construction crews appreciated the ease and affordability of the ceiling style, since it doesn’t require sanding or finishing multiple layers, and homeowners liked that it hid imperfections and even provided some minor soundproofing.

Popcorn ceilings were the norm for almost 30 years — and you may even have some in your own home today — but you likely won’t see them in homes built after 1980. A major reason? The material itself. Early formulations of the spray-on mixture often contained asbestos, naturally occurring minerals that, when disturbed, can lead to serious health risks. As maligned as their reputation may be, though, anyone who grew up under popcorn ceilings still probably has a soft spot for them — right along with shag carpets and avocado-green kitchen appliances.

Phone Nooks

Before cellphones and even cordless home phones, the household telephone typically stayed in one spot. In the early 20th century, to make room for this emerging technology, homes were sometimes built with a dedicated phone nook (also called a phone niche). These small, recessed wall spaces were usually found in a hallway or near the stairs. They often had a compact shelf for a heavy rotary phone and space for a small seat to tuck underneath. 

If the house wasn’t built with a phone nook, cabinets could be ordered from catalogs such as Sears and installed anywhere homeowners desired. But as phones became smaller, lighter, and eventually mobile, there was no longer a need to anchor them to a single place. Today, phone nooks that remain are often used as storage for items such as mail, keys, tchotchkes, and houseplants.

Fold-Out Ironing Boards

Ironing was once a more frequent chore for many households, so having a simple setup was helpful. Enter the fold-out ironing board: a shallow, built-in cabinet, often in the kitchen, that concealed a board that could be pulled down when needed. This space-saving design choice was common in 1920s homes, along with Murphy beds and phone nooks. 

Of course, ironing boards still exist, but over time many fabrics became easier to launder and wear without wrinkling, and everyday clothing became less formal. As a result, the need for these built-in boards declined. Today, you might find that existing relics of fold-out ironing board cupboards make better spice racks, but they are nonetheless a reminder of the changing domestic habits that keep households evolving. 

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Classical Indian Dances

In Central India, the discovery of what appears to be dancing figures amid the Mesolithic-era cave paintings of the Bhimbetka rock shelters underscores the long history of dance on the subcontinent. While it's unknown what particular moves the artist was documenting, the survival of the Naṭyashastra, a Sanskrit treatise on art that may date back to at least the third century BCE, offers better insight on early Indian dances.

Spawned in Southern India, Bharatanatyam was originally a Hindu temple dance performed by solo women. Broken down into the divisions of nritta (technical dance), nritya (expressive dance), and natya (storytelling), Bharatanatyam is characterized by squatting legs and counter-rhythm footwork, its performances lasting up to two hours.

From the eastern part of the country, Odissi also originated as a temple dance performed by women. Compared to Bharatanatyam, its movements are generally slower and subtler, and feature more of the elaborate hand gestures known as mudras.

Kathak developed among nomadic storytellers of North India, so this dance is also strongly built around narrative principles. Not limited to either gender, performers showcase balance and grace with an upright posture and techniques that include chakkars (spins), tatkar (foot strikes), and paltas (patterns). Unlike the country’s other native dances, which date back more than 2,000 years, Kathak came into its modern form by way of combined Hindu and Muslim influences.

Hula, Dragon Dance, and Siva Samoa

In Hawaii, residents have been performing the hula for centuries. This world-famous dance, which involves the swaying of hips and corresponding wavelike arm movements, comes with an array of backstories that tie its roots to differing regions and mythological figures. While such folklore makes hula’s origins nearly impossible to pinpoint, The Encyclopedia of World Folk Dance estimates the dance dates back to around 300 CE.

The encyclopedia also points to a similar dance from a neighboring geographical region with even earlier beginnings. The Siva Samoa, introduced by the Lapita people around 800 BCE, is perhaps the oldest dance of the Polynesian islands. Mainly performed by women at social gatherings, the Siva Samoa incorporates side-to-side swaying, graceful arm movements, and facial expressions to relay the emotions of its performer.

From China, the dragon dance has endured as a tradition of Chinese New Year since the Han dynasty in the third century BCE. Initially performed as a means to worship ancestors and pray for rain, this good luck dance requires the use of multiple performers to coordinate the swirling and sweeping motions of a multipart dragon puppet to the rhythms of cymbals, gongs, and a drum.

Dabke and Belly Dancing

Considering Mesopotamia in the modern-day Middle East is known as the “cradle of civilization,” it follows that some of the world’s oldest dances were nurtured in this region. One such dance is the dabke, or dabkeh, which, according to The Encyclopedia of World Folk Dance, can be traced back to the Canaanites or Phoenicians around 2000 BCE. 

Performed by a group of people in a line or circle, the dabke is an energetic dance marked by stomping, kicking, and twirling items such as handkerchiefs. While the dabke has increasingly assumed the status of a protest dance in recent years, it remains a means of celebration at festivals and weddings across Palestine, Jordan, Syria, and Lebanon.

Like the hula, the belly dance is a widely recognized performative art with no consensus origin story. One starting point can be found in the Indus Valley in 3000 BCE, where midwives helped prepare expectant mothers with abdominal exercises. Migrating to the Middle East and North Africa, belly dancing took on differing names and variations of the torso-focused thrusting and shaking that distinguished it from other dances. Belly dancing has endured as a highly developed form of expression, and is often credited as the oldest known dance in the world.

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The Symbol Is Found in Nature

In geometric terms, the heart shape is known as a cardioid, and forms resembling it can be found throughout the natural world. In fact, one of the most compelling theories about the origin of the heart symbol points to ancient agriculture and the symbolism of plants, rather than human anatomy.

In the ancient city of Cyrene (modern-day Libya), a species of giant fennel known as silphium was so highly valued that it drove the economy of the region. Its uses were wide-ranging: Silphium was a prized seasoning, a powerful medicine, and, most notably, a natural contraceptive. It was so essential to life and love in the ancient world that it was stamped onto Cyrenian coins.

The plant’s seedpod, in particular, bore a strong resemblance to the heart symbol we recognize today — a smooth, symmetrical form tapering to a point. Because silphium was closely associated with love, sexuality, and fertility, some historians believe the shape of its seedpod may have directly influenced the development of the symbolic heart.

Other plants have also echoed the heart’s curves. Ivy leaves, long associated with fidelity and eternal love in Greek and Roman symbolism, display a heartlike silhouette. The fig leaf, tied to sensuality in ancient art and myth, and even water lily leaves, often shaped like rounded hearts, may have subtly reinforced the motif in art and decoration.

It Took on a Romantic Meaning in the Middle Ages

By the Middle Ages, the symbolic heart began to appear more frequently in religious art and literature in Europe, often representing divine or spiritual love. In Christian iconography, saints such as St. Augustine were depicted holding or pointing to flaming hearts, symbolizing their devotion to God. The Sacred Heart of Jesus, which emerged in medieval devotional art, emphasized themes of love, sacrifice, and compassion — establishing the heart as a spiritual symbol.

At the same time, more secular interpretations of the heart were gaining popularity. In illuminated manuscripts from the 13th and 14th centuries, lovers were sometimes shown exchanging hearts — both literally and metaphorically. A notable example appears in the 14th-century French manuscript Roman de la Poire (“Romance of the Pear”), in which a man offers his heart, shaped much like the modern symbol, to his beloved. These early heart illustrations were often red, symmetrical, and stylized — but they didn’t always follow today’s orientation. Some were shown with the point facing upward, while others were more angular or leaflike.

The Printing Press Helped Solidify the Symbol

The invention of the printing press in the 15th century helped standardize and spread the heart symbol across Europe. As printed materials became more widely available, so did visual motifs — and the heart, already associated with courtly love and devotion in art, literature, and music, was a popular choice. Early printers used woodcuts to embellish books and pamphlets with heart shapes in religious texts, emblems, and romantic illustrations. Around the same time, in 1498, Leonardo da Vinci created one of the first anatomically accurate drawings of the human heart — but his scientific rendering had little influence on the romanticized symbol already taking hold in popular culture.

As Valentine’s Day evolved into a romantic holiday in England and France, printers began mass-producing cards and tokens adorned with cupids, flowers, and heart motifs. In the 18th and 19th centuries, the heart was everywhere — on embroidery, porcelain, stationery, and jewelry. In the Victorian era, heart-shaped lockets and lace-trimmed valentines became cherished expressions of sentiment. No longer tied to anatomy or philosophy, the heart symbol fully transformed into a visual shorthand for love and emotional connection — a role it still plays today in greeting cards and text messages around the world.

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Greeks and Romans Tossed Grains To Call on the Gods

As civilizations became more organized, these agricultural customs became woven into more formal religious traditions. In ancient Rome, guests often tossed wheat or barley at weddings in honor of Ceres, the goddess of agriculture, fertility, and family. Roman brides sometimes wore crowns or garlands of wheat in their hair, highlighting their expected role in continuing the family line.

Greek ceremonies included similar practices, invoking Demeter, the goddess of the harvest, through offerings of grain. These were not simply quaint traditions — they reflected larger beliefs about the social order, divine favor, and the sacredness of the household. In both cultures, grains were offered not only for luck but also as part of a broader worldview that linked successful marriages with divine blessing and societal stability. A good harvest and a good marriage were seen as intertwined — and both needed the favor of the gods.

Rice Played a Sacred Role in Ancient Asian Ceremonies

While wheat and barley featured prominently in the West, rice took on sacred importance in many Asian cultures. In China, rice has symbolized life, wealth, and harmony with nature for thousands of years. Historically, rice featured prominently in ancestral offerings and seasonal rites, and its association with fertility and family continuity made it a natural part of wedding customs. In some regions, for instance, rice was scattered around newlyweds to bless the union or offered to ancestors to gain their favor for the marriage.

In India, rice has been integral to Hindu wedding rituals for thousands of years. One of the most meaningful customs is Akshata, in which whole grains of rice — often dyed with turmeric or vermilion — are showered on the bride and groom as a symbol of abundance, fertility, and divine favor.

Across Southeast Asia, similar rituals appear, many tied to local fertility goddesses, such as Dewi Sri in Indonesia. Wedding ceremonies often include offerings of rice to spirits or deities to ensure harmony, fertility, and a blessed union. In these cultures, rice is not just food but also spiritual currency, deeply connected to the cycles of life and marriage. 

Rice Was Introduced to Europe Through Trade 

Despite its importance elsewhere, rice was largely unfamiliar in Europe until it began arriving via trade routes from Asia and the Middle East. By the Middle Ages, it had made its way into European markets, thanks to expanding contact with the Islamic world in places such as Spain and Sicily, and increased trade spurred by the Crusades.

At first, rice was considered a luxury item — rare, expensive, and used mostly by the wealthy. But over time, it became more accessible and began appearing in ceremonial contexts, including weddings. Its symbolism — fertility, longevity, and abundance — dovetailed neatly with older European traditions. Long before rice arrived, rural communities used native grains such as wheat, oats, and barley in wedding rites to bless the couple with prosperity and children.

By the 19th century, throwing rice at weddings had become a widespread and beloved tradition in Western cultures. It was a way of honoring ancient fertility symbols with a modern twist, combining imported ingredients with long-held wishes for joy, health, and a flourishing family life.  

How the Rice-Throwing Ritual Has Changed

In recent decades, the tradition of throwing rice has shifted as couples opt for alternatives that are either more environmentally friendly or better suited to specific venues. Today, it’s not uncommon to see guests showering newlyweds with dried flower petals, birdseed, bubbles, or biodegradable confetti. These variations serve the same symbolic purpose — celebrating the beginning of a new life together with joy and good wishes — while also accommodating modern sensibilities.

Some venues discourage the use of rice because of cleanup concerns or the widespread (but incorrect) belief that it harms birds. That myth, which gained traction in the 1980s, claimed that birds would eat the rice, which would swell in their stomachs and cause injury or death. However, wildlife experts and ornithologists have since debunked that idea. Birds can digest uncooked rice just fine — after all, it’s a staple food for many wild species around the world.

While fewer couples may use rice today, the impulse behind the tradition endures. Whether it’s a cloud of bubbles or a scatter of petals, these celebratory send-offs are a continuation of an ancient wish: that the couple’s new life will be fruitful, joyful, and blessed with abundance.

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A More Coordinated School Calendar

By the 1840s, education reformers such as Horace Mann were pushing for change. In line with the broader Common School Movement, Mann thought that free, tax-supported schools should be accessible to all children, and organizing the school calendars was a big piece of the puzzle. Reformers believed rural schools, with their agrarian schedules, were too inconsistent and the number of school days inadequate. Growing urban populations, meanwhile, gave rise to a new model of schooling that grouped students by age in separate classrooms. This “age-graded” approach, which Mann had admired during a visit to Prussia, required a more coordinated school calendar to work smoothly across different districts.

Why Summers Off Made Sense 

In the 19th century, many city schools were in need of renovations and repairs, which were best done in the summer months. The buildings were also, of course, not yet air conditioned, and their overcrowded, poorly ventilated rooms often fueled outbreaks of disease in the summer’s stifling heat. Increasingly, the schools’ wealthiest families took to fleeing the city’s soaring summer temperatures for vacation escapes, further driving social fragmentation and inequalities within the schools. 

At the same time, medical theories claimed that too much mental exertion could overstimulate young minds and lead to exhaustion — or worse. Reformers saw summer as the best time to rest the mind. Summer vacation also addressed urban schools’ public health concerns and gave teachers a much-needed break. The Common School Movement sought to further professionalize the teaching profession, and the extended break gave educators time to take advantage of summer conventions and training programs.

Summer Vacation Is Born

By the end of the 19th century, states had begun implementing school funding eligibility rules, including a minimum number of instructional days. A 180-day calendar took shape, spanning late summer to late spring, with summertime carved out as a clear and consistent break lasting from about the end of June to the end of August. Between 1880 and 1920, the United States’ school calendar fully fell into alignment, and a national rhythm of summer break has been the norm ever since.

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