Why Do We Remember?

Johnny-on-the-Spot … by John Foster …

This fall, I’ve been reminded that I’m aging.

Some would say, “Getting older”.

Perhaps “more experienced?”

These days when I run into someone and they say, “Good to see you!” I normally respond with “It’s good to be seen!”

I see Facebook message all too frequently advising me of another high school classmate that has left the gaming table and cashed in all their chips.

Then, there are things that occur that remind me there’s some extended mileage on this chasis.

When we observed “911” recently, it was sobering to note that there’s an entire generation that has no first-hand knowledge of that we experienced in those days.

I saw notes and stories about the Cuban missile crisis and I realized my sisters were all in their “single digits” when it came to age.

I was 12 years old and was scared to death.

I also remember helping my Dad and our neighbor building a fallout shelter in our basement.

I passed the solid “half blocks” of concrete in through the basement window while they built the shelter.

I always wonder how effective it would have been, shielding us from potential radiation.

I recalled my Dad saying “Since we’re just 2 miles away from an Air National Guard base, we could be a secondary target of an actual A-bomb”.

That was reassuring.

By the way, we never really stocked the fallout shelter and we kids used to play inside it until our dog decided to use it as her indoor restroom.

Guess who became the head janitor for that task?

I clearly remember the announcement over the public address system at Madison Junior High School when President John Kennedy was assassinated.

I was in Civics class and our teacher said, “Well, if the Russians did it, this is World War III.

Great confidence-builder for a 13 year old.

I also thought about Veterans Day when on the 11th hour of the 11th days of the 11th month, the armistice was signed and “the war to end all wars” had finally concluded.

We learned rather quickly that wasn’t the case.

In my youthful years, I remember WWI veterans donning those red poppies in remembrance on Veteran’s Day but today, you’ll not find a single one from that era.

I remember asking my Mom how she felt on Pearl Harbor day, December 7th, 1941.

She would have been 15 years old and she could remember listening to the radio and pulling down the shades on all the windows.

Now there’s just a handful of folks around who might remember that day, as well as D-Day.

I wasn’t born until 9 years after Pearl Harbor Day.

I didn’t show up until almost 6 years after D-Day.

What’s sobering to me is a lot of you reading this blog might not have much, if any, first-hand knowledge of these significant events.

About a year ago, my wife and I went on a tour to Boston and had the opportunity visit Lexington and Concord, where this nation’s fight for independence started.

Standing on the village green in Lexington, I was overcome with the realization that “This was where it all started!”

It was an amazing experience for me.

So, this past Veteran’s Day, I wondered aloud, why do we remember?

Should we remember?

I read a quote which stated, “The experience of being a human is inseparable from our ability to remember. You cannot prepare for the future if you don’t remember the past”.

Therein lines the danger of attempting to change or alter history.

We are who we are because of what we experienced.

Good and bad.

If you ignore it or alter it, how do we learn and get better?

English philosopher and psychologist Herbert Spencer told us, “The wise man must remember that while he is a descendent of the past, he is a parent of the future.”

As long as I can, I’ll remember.