The Importance of History

I will start out by saying I am a history geek.  History may be my favorite subject, and possibly the most important for the future.  I truly do believe that if humanity was not to study it history would be doomed to repeat.  The first thing I thought of when we wrote journals on our opinions on history repeating itself was a saying in Hebrew: "לדור ודור לעולם לא " (pronounced L'Dor V'Dor Laolam Lo).  A rough translation of this phrase is "From generation to generation never again".  The reason I bring this up is because maybe it is the job of those oppressed or their ancestors to make sure people continues to remember mistakes.  Many who have more fortunate and oppressive ancestors would prefer to not talk about these issues because of the guilt and blame they feel regarding them.  So maybe it is the job of the formerly oppressed to not make others feel guilt, but continue to share first hand stories and accounts and insure that history is not forgotten.  We don't need just classes, though.  We need remembrance days that are actually observed.  We have Martin Luther King Day, but there are certainly other important historical happenings that we barley ever think about, other than when we focus on them for a day in history class.

Edgar Allan Poe!

Alright, so let's talk about Edgar Allen Poe.  I could list off weird facts about him from when he was my favorite historical figure in 5th and 6th grade, such as how he loved cats or how he wore his coat inside out on days that he was particularly depressed, however that really doesn't have much to do with why he is so interesting.  He is the Salvador Dali of words,  there is something very surrealist in the way he writes.  You can see what he says and you have to fill in the blanks.  He tells you what the character is thinking and feeling, but doesn't give you all the answers.  He forces his readers to create there own horrors and to relate to his works of love.  I, as well as many, consider him a tortured literary genius.

The Cold Harbor Diary

This is a picture of the diary of a man who was killed in the battle of Cold Harbor, June 3rd 1864.  In  case you can not read it, the night before he died this man "June 3rd, I was killed."  This man knew he was going to die.  He knew he was committed to the service of his country and did not even attempt to flee his impending death.  His comrades pinned their names to their jackets the eve of the day they would be killed so that they would be identified.  It makes me wonder what kind of trust one has to have in the people and ideas of their society to be able submit to the possibility of death to protect it.  I highly respect that drive and sacrifice and I know I will never be able to make it, and I wonder where that bravery comes from.  Which is why I find it incredibly appalling that these people, these HUMAN BEINGS that fought for their country were left to rot for on the battle field on which they gave their lives.  There was no respect for their sacrifice, or for their lives.  And it is highly disturbing to me.