Memories of the Memorials

Growing up in Washington DC I developed a different concept of and relationship to the monuments. They were a constant presence in my life, which did not diminish their importance, but without the emphasis on destination that so many people from America and around the world experience through trips to visit the monuments, they become an odd combination of being commonplace yet grand. I don't have a specific first memory of one of the memorials but was more aware of the Washington Monument in particular as a part of my personal identity, and what I consider to be part of my home. The neoclassical style of the monuments, so closely spaced, creates a feeling of grandeur similar to that which the Romans wished to communicate throughout their empire. It is mythical and otherworldly, and the monuments seem to have stood there for thousands of years, such was my experience with the Memorial Bridge. I remember driving home from the Kennedy Center one night when I was about 8 years old, and specifically the way the moonlight was reflecting off the water and hitting the repetitive semi-circle arches beneath the bridge, which while incredible in their massiveness, they do not even come close to the spectacularly ornamented top side. The end at the Lincoln Memorial has two enormous bronze statues of men with horses that are shockingly large upon first sight. Despite their glory and the proud memorials that the bridge connects, it is the underside that is engrained in my memory, like the foundation for our society today, which is immortalized in the monuments.

Sarah Whelihan