Trying to recall my first experience of a memorial in class today was difficult. At first, I thought of several impactful memorials I have been to throughout my life, but they were all experiences from the past 10 years or so. Growing up in Virginia, where every town seems to be "historic" something-or-other, I knew something came before that. I sat wondering what was truly the first, possibly something that seemed an average part of my local landscape. Finally, I realized my earliest consciousness and experience of a memorial revolved around the Yorktown Victory Monument. I live across the York River from Yorktown, in Gloucester, and going over the Coleman Bridge I used to look for the tall white pillar, visible above the trees on the other bank. My mom and I would go for picnics on the grass around its base when I was little, and I was impressed by its size, both seeing it from the bridge and looking up at it from the ground. Though I always knew the historical significance of Yorktown and that the monument was related to it, I was more conscious of it as a marker of place.
Reflecting on the meaning of this experience, I am reminded of the way history, historical commemoration, and historical tourism played an unusually large role in my childhood. Yorktown, Jamestown, and Williamsburg were all places I knew the history of, took field trips to, and was aware were tourist attractions for some. However, they were and are equally important for reasons unrelated to history. Over spring break, I went to Yorktown with a visitor to swim in the river and fly kites, and I took them to Williamsburg for lunch and a walk. I rarely actually visit these places for historical interests. These different levels of experience draw attention to the ways memorials can make people aware of a history, of people, of a sense of place, but may also blend into the background of life. I am left wondering whether their true meaning lies more in the way they are contextualized than their content alone.
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