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"When Who's Buried in Grant's Tomb? Is More Than a Trivia Question",,"In the summer of 2006, my best friend and I stumbled upon a book called, Who's Buried in Grant's Tomb. The book summarizes the post-presidential lives of the American Presidents, details their passing and funerals, and finishes with a commentary on each. After reviewing how close many of them were to our apartment in Virginia, we decided to embark on a pilgrimage to the burial sites. What followed has been a decade plus journey throughout the country to the biggest of big cities, New York, to the smallest of small towns, Plymouth Notch, to visit these final resting places.
Each site, like the president memorialized is unique in its own way. Some presidents, like Lincoln, have giant memorials that match their legacies where others, like Coolidge, are the definition of unpretentious. Some, like Washington, are on sprawling plantations. Others, like Van Buren, are in rural cemeteries. This is a testament to the impact that power and privilege play even in death.
Traipsing through countless cemeteries, I have often reflected on the role that memory and memorialization play in our lives. Mixed in with some presidents are people whose stories have long been forgotten or, perhaps worse, were never even told. I wonder: Who are these people? Why are they buried here? What was their life like? Thankfully public historians are actively seeking to rectify this.
When I mention my macabre hobby I inevitably get asked, ""Why?"" The easy answer is that it blends my interest in the presidency and my love of travel. The more philosophical answer? I suppose there is a particular unexpectedness of observing the humanities in a cemetery, yet what is more universally human then death? For it is on these trips with my best friend, other friends, family, and my wife that I have felt the greatest connection to people. Be it laughing with friends on a car trip, eating and connecting with the local townspeople, or meeting and reflecting with other history aficionados.
So who is buried in Grant's tomb? Well, not even Ulysses Grant as he is interred above ground.","Brian Lamb","Who's Buried in Grant's Tomb?: A Tour of Presidential Gravesites",,"Summer 2006","Bradley T. Swain, 38, Social Studies Teacher at West Springfield High School",,,,,,buried-grant-tomb-more-than-trivia-question,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,"Professional Development ","Discovery,Equality,Gravestones,History,Memorials,Presidents of the United States,Public Spaces",http://humanitiesmoments.org/files/original/4/527/veteran-1885567_640.jpg,Text,Educators,1,0
"“Il faut le savoir:” Reflecting on France’s Holocaust History and Memory",,"“Nothing distinguished the gas chamber from an ordinary blockhouse,” writes Jean Cayrol in the screenplay for Alain Resnais’ iconic filmic meditation on the Shoah, Night and Fog (1956). “Inside, a fake shower room welcomed newcomers. The doors were closed. The newcomers were observed. The only sign – but you must know this (il faut le savoir) – is the ceiling worked over by fingernails. Even the concrete was torn.” At this point in the film, like an insistent investigative eye, the camera pans to the ceiling of the gas chamber, revealing the telltale scratch marks. The image of fingernails clawing into concrete in a desperate attempt for survival recurs in another work about Holocaust memory that we read this semester, Georges Perec’s W, or the Memory of Childhood (1975). Recalling an exhibit he had visited with his aunt shortly after the war – the same one, in fact, that led producers to ask Alain Resnais to create the film that would become Night and Fog -- the child survivor narrator writes: “I remember photos showing the walls of the ovens, lacerated by the fingernails of those who had been gassed.”
Il faut le savoir. The phrase has haunted me throughout the semester. You must know this. Because it happened. Because many would deny that it did, depriving the victims of dignity and history of truth. Fingernail scratches in the crematoria walls of Auschwitz, asks the neo-Nazi website The Stormer? “Jewish mythology says ‘yes.’ Science says ‘no.’” You must know this, because soon there will be no more survivors, and those still alive often find it too painful, or shameful, to share their testimony, or else they have learned to suppress it so as not to trouble others. “No one wanted my memories,” writes Birkenau survivor Marceline Loridan-Ivens in But You Did Not Come Back. You must know this, because 2/3 of young Americans, according to a 2020 national poll, lack a rudimentary understanding of the Holocaust. “Where did the Holocaust happen?” educator Rhonda Fink-Whitman asks a Penn State student in her 2012 documentary, 94 Maidens. “I have no idea.” You must know this, as Cayrol writes in Night and Fog, because “war is sleeping, but with one eye always open.” As I write, genocide continues to be perpetuated against the Muslim Rohingya people by the military in Myanmar. “Who among us keeps watch from this strange watchtower to warn of the arrival of our new executioners?”
But to know – and this is a second meaning of il faut le savoir -- one must be ‘in the know,’ know where to look, how to be on the lookout, how to decode the signs. You have to be tipped off to find the “Memorial to the Martyrs of the Deportation” (1962) tucked in a small square behind the behemoth of Notre-Dame Cathedral, just as you must be ‘in the know’ to be disturbed by the memorial’s identification of those deported from France as willing “martyrs” to a cause rather than victims of state persecution by both the Nazis and the Vichy regime. The French State headed by Marshal Philippe Pétain is nowhere mentioned in this memorial monument, yet it deported over 75.000 Jews from France to their deaths, along with, in smaller numbers, Roma, the disabled, Jehovah’s witnesses, gay men and lesbians, and other ‘undesirables.’ Stroll around to the main façade of Notre-Dame to contemplate the two female allegorical figures framing it; only if you’re ‘in the know’ about the anti-Semitic underpinnings of European Christianity through the mid-20th century will you understand that one figure represents the Church triumphant, while the other, with downward cast, blindfolded gaze and broken Torah tablets at her feet, symbolizes the Synagogue. As only one photograph of this event remains, you need to be on the lookout for the tiny plaque at the foot of a bustling Parisian office building marking the site of the former Vélodrome d’hiver, an indoor bicycle track where over 11,000 Jews, including over 4,000 children, were packed for several sweltering days in July 1942 before being herded to their deaths. “A peaceful landscape,” writes Cayrol, “An ordinary field with flights of crows, harvests, grass fires. An ordinary road where cars and peasants and lovers pass. An ordinary village for vacationers – with a marketplace and a steeple – Can lead all too easily to a concentration camp.” Il faut le savoir.
“Every hour of every day,” writes Hélène Berr, a young upper-class French Jewish woman who survived a year in deportation before being beaten to death in Bergen-Belsen, “there is another painful realization that other folk do not know, do not even imagine, the suffering of other men, the evil that some of them inflict. And I am still trying to make the painful effort to tell the story. Because it is a duty, it is maybe the only one I can fulfill. There are men wo know and who close their eyes, and I’ll never manage to convince people of that kind, because they are hard and selfish, and I have no authority. But people who do not know and who might have sufficient heart to understand – on those people I must have an effect.” Let us – we who in Primo Levi’s words “live safe in [our] warm houses,” armed with all we have learned this semester, make the “painful effort to the tell the story” to all those who will listen, “those with sufficient heart to understand.” Because the world must know. Yes, il faut le savoir.
","Jean Cayrol, Alain Resnais","Night and Fog (1955)",,"Spring 2021","Willa Z. Silverman, 62, Malvin E. and Lea P. Bank Professor of French and Jewish Studies, Penn State University",,,,,,il-faut-le-savoir,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,"From one of my graduate students at Penn State (Morgane Haesen, whose ""Moment"" you published)","Documentary Films,Emotional Experience,Film and Movies,Historical Memory,History,History Education,Holocaust,Memorials,Memory,Teachers & Teaching,War",http://humanitiesmoments.org/files/original/433/syn-ecc_NotreDame1-296x300.png,Text,,1,0
"The Fish on Marchmont Street",,"I live and teach in Madison, Wisconsin, but I usually spend my spring break on a research trip in London, England. On a cold and drizzly day in March 2019, I was walking down Marchmont Street through London's Bloomsbury neighborhood on my way to the British Library. My head was down and I was busy thinking about the documents I would request at the archives, when I noticed what looked like a metal fish embedded in the sidewalk. As I kept walking, I noticed other oversized articles cemented into the walkway: a split coin, what looked like a compass, a winged heart connected to a pineapple, a diamond-shaped plaque with the initials M.S. In one case, a heart was inscribed with ""Meriah Dechesne, Born August 8th 1759.""
Soon, I came across a sign that explained these objects. These were enlarged replicas of historical tokens that mothers, usually young and poor, left when they abandoned their babies at the Foundling Hospital. The hospital took in babies given up between 1741 and 1954. Today, the Foundling Museum sits on the site, around the corner from the stretch of sidewalk where I noticed these tokens. The mothers were supposed to leave a small physical object with their babies to help them re-unite later, if possible. It was a kind of identification system or secret password. Only the mother and the Foundling Hospital would know that she had left her baby with a metal fish, for instance. As it turned out, reunifications were rare.
On my way to one of the world's most famous collections of paper documents, I was shown another kind of artifact from the past. These metal tokens were mementos of heart-break and loss, of lives spent apart because of poverty and social stigma, and of stories and people that were probably absent from the written records housed three blocks away. The metal fish and its companions were a quiet and understated form of memorial. They were flat, trodden upon by thousands of people every day, plain, and potentially unexplained for most pedestrians. But they created one of the most moving monuments I have ever seen. Because of them, I think about two centuries of desperate mothers and abandoned babies whenever I walk down Marchmont Street.
",,,,2019,"Mitra Sharafi, 47, legal historian at the University of Wisconsin-Madison",,,,,,fish-on-marchmont-street,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,"I am a NHC fellow in AY 2020-21.","Architecture,Archives,Historical Markers,Historical Memory,London, United Kingdom,Memorials,Museums",http://humanitiesmoments.org/files/original/8/432/Fish_on_Marchmont_St_[photo_by_MS].jpg,Text,"National Humanities Center Fellows",1,0
"Don’t Understand Me Too Quickly",,"
Fresh out of graduate school, Jon Parrish Peede embraced the chance to travel, arriving in Eastern Europe during the dissolution of Czechoslovakia. A last-minute decision to see the opera Don Giovanni in Vienna—and a startling conversation with a local ticket-taker—opened his eyes to the double-edged legacy of American military intervention. During that same trip, a somber pilgrimage to the former German Nazi Auschwitz extermination camp and museum in Poland offered yet another perspective on World War II.
Peede’s encounters with the humanities complicated his understanding of the world around him. For him, they impart a lesson articulated by the French writer Andre Gide: “Don’t understand me too quickly.” The history contained in music or memorials, Peede reflects, is a “web” with living, breathing implications. In these cases, the importance of the moments lies not as much in what happened then as much as what they add up to in retrospection.
",,,,,"Jon Parrish Peede, Chairman of the National Endowment for the Humanities ",,,,,,jon-parrish-peede-dont-understand-me-too-quickly,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,"",,,"Auschwitz-Birkenhau Memorial and Museum,Auschwitz, Poland,Don Giovanni,Europe,Gide, André,Marshall Plan,Memorials,Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus,Music,National Endowment for the Humanities,Travel,Velvet Revolution,Vienna, Austria,World War II (1939-1945)",http://humanitiesmoments.org/files/original/175/Dresden_after_1945_firebombing.jpg,"Moving Image",,1,0