She Lived 104 Years, and Changed How America Remembers Its History!

Because she had lived that history, she possessed the unique authority to correct it. Born in 1921 into a multicultural family with deep roots in Louisiana and California, Soskin’s early life was a microcosm of the American experience. During World War II, she worked as a file clerk for a segregated labor union, an experience that placed her at the intersection of national progress and local prejudice. She saw firsthand the friction of a country fighting for democracy abroad while struggling to realize it at home. It was this lived experience that she brought to the National Park Service in her eighties—a time when her peers were looking back, she was looking forward, determined to ensure that the “lost stories” of the home front were given a permanent home in the national consciousness.

Before she was a ranger, Soskin was a community builder and a cultural architect. In 1945, she and her husband, Mel Reid, co-founded Reid’s Records in Berkeley. What started as a small business became a legendary cultural cornerstone, a place where gospel music and community dialogue flourished for over seven decades. The store survived the shifting tides of the music industry and the gentrification of the neighborhood, standing as a monument to Black entrepreneurship and resilience. This chapter of her life reinforced her belief that history is not just found in textbooks; it is preserved in the spaces where people gather, share music, and tell their truths.

Her transition into public service and government roles in the following decades further honed her skills as an advocate for representation. Whether working for local legislators or serving on community boards, Soskin was consistently focused on the “invisible” citizen. She understood that power often resides in whose story gets told and whose is ignored. By the time she donned the ranger uniform, she wasn’t just a government employee; she was a seasoned warrior for the truth, armed with a century of perspective and a deep, abiding love for a country she wanted to see live up to its promises.

One of the most poignant moments of her public life occurred in 2015 when she was invited to the White House to participate in the National Christmas Tree Lighting ceremony. Standing beside President Barack Obama, Soskin represented the bridge between the struggles of the past and the possibilities of the future. For a woman who had come of age in a segregated America, seeing a Black president acknowledge her contributions was a moment she described as both surreal and profoundly humbling. It was a validation of her lifelong mission: that if you stay at the table long enough, you can eventually change the menu.

Even as she entered her second century, Soskin remained a vital participant in civic life. Her programs at the Richmond park were legendary, often selling out months in advance. Visitors didn’t just come to see a historical site; they came to hear a sage. She had a way of speaking that turned distant facts into visceral realities, forcing her audience to confront the complexities of the American identity with honesty rather than nostalgia. She taught us that a nation can only truly heal its wounds when it is brave enough to look at them clearly.