The year rolls around and our lives wend on, and Memorial Day has come again – even on May 30, as so many of us remember from our long-ago youths. In many ways, with school almost over, it seemed like the opening of summer. But of course it was, and is, so much more.
Caton’s a small town, but it took the lead once the Civil War was over, before even “Decoration Day” was solidly established. Caton created the first Civil War memorial in Steuben County. It’s an obelisk (popular in America at the time) and a cenotaph – a memorial for those buried elsewhere. And on it, they carved the names of their fellows who were never coming home.
Statues soon took the place of obelisks, and granite Union soldiers still stand guard over Corning, Hornell, Hammondsport, Painted Post, North Cohocton, and Bath. There are also Civil War memorials at Bath National Cemetery (another obelisk), and at Bath’s Nondaga Cemetery – not to mention smaller plaques and “all wars” monuments, and maybe even some stained-glass windows in churches.
Following “the Great War,” Frederick Carder created a striking glass memorial with the names of Corning’s dead – including his own son. It’s now at Corning City Hall, facing Market Street. It replaced an earlier list installed on the clock tower.
Grand Army of the Republic (Union veterans) had named their posts for fallen comrades – now American Legion and Veterans of Foreign Wars posts followed suit. There were also “architectural” war memorials – Bath municipal building, a library and a stadium in Corning.
During World War II many communities created displays listing their residents in the service – with gold stars added for those who died in the line of duty. After the war some of these were preserved, often little-noticed, until 21 year-old Maya Lin’s design for the Vietnam Memorial was unveiled, to public uproar. Her plan was a 500-foot wall of reflective stone, bearing the names of the American dead – now over 58,000.
Bigots, of course, screeched at the notion of an ASIAN-American designing a U.S. monument, but mostly people were just bewildered. Everyone, of course, was familiar with statues of horseborne generals, waving swords and delighting pigeons. But what in the world was this? How could we ever “honor” the dead with a goofy avant-guard creation?
The governing commission, though rattled, stuck to its guns, and compromised by adding a few discretely-placed traditional statues. When the monument opened, visitors were staggered. To walk down 500 feet of nothing but 60,000 names made an experience far beyond what anyone expected. No tugging of heartstrings, no sounds, no images, just the names. Even people who had no direct connection at all burst into tears.
We came to recognize the impact and importance of the NAMES. Each one was a person, an individual. Each one was given his or her name by delighted parents, seconds after they drew their first breath. Each name was called by friends – C’mon Johnny, Guido, Sharif! Their names were read when they graduated from high school. They’re still whispered in the privacy of darkened bedrooms.
Bath, Hammondsport, Cohocton, and Prattsburgh have created their own “name” monuments, some going back to the Revolutionary War. Hammondsport Central School exhibits the names and the photos of its fallen alumni. Many communities now have street banners with the names and photos of veterans. “At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them,” Laurence Binyon wrote in 1914. “What were their names, tell me what were their names,” sang Woody Guthrie in 1941. “Did you have a friend on the good Reuben James?”
Every war at some point passes from living memory, and all at once those names are “only” names on a list, or names cut in stone. That’s why we have memorials. Why we have Memorial Day.