Earlier this week, I stood on the exact spot where Malcolm X was assassinated in the Audubon Ballroom. The feeling was familiar; having previously visited the Lorraine Motel and Ford’s Theatre where Martin Luther King and Abraham Lincoln were also killed by assassin’s bullets. It is a solemn experience, marked by sadness and reverence. The contrast of the good and evil we are capable of is palpable.
This experience is not reserved for singularly significant individuals. Having stood on the beaches of Normandy and above the deck of the USS Arizona in Pearl Harbor evokes a similar sense of awe; marveling at the collective sacrifice and senseless loss.
I am moved when I stand still in these footsteps of history. Realizing that each of the above would have been spared had they not stood up for something larger than themselves. Trying to imagine the extent to which the loss and grief felt by their families was mitigated by the importance of cause.
Each of the fallen noted above – including every soldier – was younger when they were killed than I am now.
As macabre as it may sound, I have on occasion found myself visiting a cemetery where no loved one or ancestor of mine rests. Standing above the likes of Emerson, Thoreau, Alcott, Kennedy, Gehrig and Carnegie while they lay below. On these sojourns I also take note of less familiar names. Untended tombstones marking years of beginnings and ends. The small dash in the middle serves as a cheap proxy for the fullness of their life.
I wonder how often someone stands in front of each grave and how this correlates to what the passed soul stood for during the length of their dash.
Standing in history, known and unknown, should give us pause. Offering a moment to reflect on what we really stand for. Asking ourselves, “Who will want to stand in the places where we once stood?” and “Will they feel any reverence or gratitude for the stands we made?”
This Week’s Recommendation: I am currently reading the latest book from one of my favorite authors, George Saunders. Vigil is a creative wonder. Imagining a person on their death who resists coming to terms with the consequences of his large life. Makes you wonder about what conversation will you have with yourself when your time comes.
Please share this to someone whose stands you appreciate.