"Rather than focus on name changes, we should teach our children about America's history — both the great and the terrible," writes Commissioner Jeff Johnson ("Why I'm voting to keep the name as 'Lake Calhoun,' " Nov. 25).

To his second point, I agree. And this got me thinking. We should erect side-by-side plaques on the shore of Bde Maka Ska (formally Lake Calhoun). One should highlight the story of John C. Calhoun — South Carolina senator, seventh vice president of the United States, a leading political and intellectual defender of slavery and the South before the Civil War — and the other should highlight the story of the Dakota people, perhaps to highlight the U.S.-Dakota War of 1862, also known as the Dakota uprising.

What happened in 1862? In 2012, the Star Tribune published a series of articles telling the story of Little Crow, a conflicted Dakota chief who led this rebellion, a rebellion that you may not be surprised to learn did not end well for the Dakota people. One year later, on July 3, 1863, just northeast of Hutchinson, Minn., a man named Nathan Lamson shot Little Crow. For this he was awarded $500.

Until 1915, Little Crow's skull, his scalp and a bone from his forearm were on display at the State Capitol in St. Paul.

Harry Lamson, great-grandson of Nathan Lamson, was interviewed in the Star Tribune piece. He recalled a time in the 1940s when the city of Hutchinson celebrated Little Crow's death over the July 4 weekend, and how each year his father was invited to serve as grand marshal. "He never accepted the invitation," Harry Lamson said of his father, "but at the time Little Crow was still the bad guy and my great-grandfather was a hero who shot the renegade outlaw. Now, of course, all the thinking in today's world has changed and my ancestor is the bad guy who got the $500 and Little Crow is the hero."

According to Johnson, changing the name from Lake Calhoun to Bde Maka Ska "wouldn't change history or advance society in any way."

Portrait of Little Crow, the chief who led the Dakota people during the U.S.-Dakota War of 1862.

Fewer than 100 years ago, on display in our State Capitol, inside a cabinet made of glass, was a human head. This is our history. This will never change.

But what if each time we change the name of a lake, or a parkway, or a school or a shopping mall we ask ourselves this: How far have we advanced as a society? Have we gone as far as we can go? Should go?

Timothy Hennum lives in Minneapolis.