Humans have always been a forgetful race. God reminded his people centuries ago to erect memorials so they could tell their children what a certain place meant. It was usually to remember something God had done for them in that location. It has always been that way. As if we would forget a global flood, God gave us a rainbow to remind us of his promise not to destroy the world by water again. Some are trying to convince us it didn’t happen in the first place. We know better.
Things are worth remembering. Some are pleasant; others are painful. Monuments do mean something. Whether a statue or a gravestone, we need reminders. What we remember plays a big role in who we are. What we determine is important enough to remember helps us to rehearse the value of that person, place or thing. The fact that we still have a place to live as we do is because of those who remain under the colonial soil, the southern delta, the union and confederate battlegrounds, in Flanders fields, in the Pacific and European battle grounds, the hills of Korea, the jungles of southeast Asia and the rocky terrain of Iraq and Afghanistan. We have retrieved some, but not others. Either way, they are gone. As long as we are here, and have enough ways to pass on our memorials, they will always be remembered. It’s what we do. It’s who we are. It’s the honorable thing to do.