I normally wouldn't do this, but... I've been thinking a lot about war lately, because I'm taking a history class about the Third Reich, and today, of course, is Remembrance Day. The last week or so we've been learning about the Holocaust and I can't really talk about the things I've learned, to be honest, because I find it extremely upsetting. But it occurs to me that soon, the generation that lived through that war, and the world war that came before it, will all be gone, and the world as a whole, not just us here in Canada, but everyone, will be more removed from that history, those events, than ever.
The first half of the 20th century was characterized by atrocity and horror. Today, there is a war still happening on the other side of the world. But this blog isn't about that kind of stuff. It's about the writing, and I feel like soon all we'll have left of that time, and of this time, is the words that have been left behind, whether it's a transcript of Hitler's speeches or a poem or letter written by a soldier, or that essay that Richard Wagner wrote denouncing the Jewish population as impure and unworthy of creating music, or a blog about daily life in the camp in Afghanistan. Words, images, film footage. Art. Structures built in memoriam. The preserved remains of an extermination camp. And none of those things are permanent either, really.
This week at school, no one was wearing poppies. At Depot, the cadets had to wear them on their hats, and some of them actually grumbled about having to stop by the Trading Post to get one.
What happens when there's no one left to tell the stories? What happens when the remnants have been lost to time? What happens when no one cares anymore?
Lest we forget. Je me souviens.
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