Being Remembered

Few of us are remembered after we die and it doesn't really matter much in the long run. The famous are remembered in statues and books and names. Even these remembrances are often at risk in this day of a great anger amongst the humans of our current era. But even as insignificant as most of us think we are, we are not. We all matter in a way that we might not know. Recently, some footprints evidently made by children over thousands of dozens of years ago were found and preserved. These little children's prints were made apparently as they pranced about perhaps in play, due to their pattern, the scientists tell us. The children are remembered as we imagine, what their little lives were like in the days far, far back. Were they boys or girls or both? What games were they playing? What did they look like? What were their homes and lives  then? All of these questions come to mind when we look at the footprints. We remember those children and their prints remind us that no matter how humble or important we are in our societies, what we do and are, could  possibly be remembered even centuries from now. Of course, we're not going to run out and make footprints in the mud, but as we carry on in our day to day lives, we need to know that it is not just great deeds that will be remembered. When we look around in antique stores or visit museums and ponder on artifacts, most of them are not crown jewels or great art, but simple items such as stone weapons, fishing gear, hunting spears, baskets and pottery shards. What you and I handle or use or invent in our daily lives matters because long from now, we could be remembered for them. Our DNA might be part of what we touch or create or build or plant or stitch. We don't know this now, but what we should know, is that what we do matters. Even the smallest and most simple things matter. I saw a film not long ago about a famous maker of a unique vehicle and how his dream was too early for the society he lived in. But his dream lives and what he created will never die, but always be remembered even though it seemed a failure during his time. Time is fickle.  Also, I recall a man in a small village I lived in, someone who had a dream of a community of residences, one that was beautiful and self-sustaining and right architecturally. He put everything he owned into beginning a very eternally and appropriately styled group of homes that were unique and practical and attractive. The buildings were only nine, as he could manage, but they were wonderful to live in. They were made with local materials and employed local persons. There were cedar roofs and siding, cedar ceilings and more than ample skylights to let in the views near the sea. I know because on a bank sale, I lived in one. The venue proved not only to be aesthetic but also marvellous to live in because the quality of construction was supervised by he and his wife who cared about what they were doing. His name isn't remembered in pleasant terms because even today some think he was precocious for his time. What he lost is what locals remember, but I will never forget living in that multistoried home with ample levels and inside spaciousness and angles and fine finishes and views of the ocean and sky. What came later as "add-ons", were cheap and lacked quality and durability, as proved, but they sold. I remember, as do those who lived there, this developer and their plans even though they "failed". Like footprints, they matter. Remembered beyond our grave stones and statues or paint and words could be, simply what we are.