To Be Remembered By Gary Rea
This is about the human condition more than anything else. We are all members of a biological species we've dubbed "Homo Sapiens" and the story of our species has been a unique one, in that, first of all, we have a story; i.e, we are the only sentient species capable of language, speech and abstract reasoning, and thus, we are the only species capable of thinking and communicating to ourselves and each other about each other.
It is this ability to communicate and to reason that makes any of what I'm writing about here even possible at all, let alone relevant, and it is relevance that is really at the heart of what I'm writing about. Whether any of us, as individuals and as a society, have any relevance and, thus, any lasting importance - and why we do, if we do at all - is the real subject, here. This will not be something as trivial as a "how-to" on achieving popularity or fame, although this will certainly be touched upon here. Rather, it will be an exploration of the deeper meaning of being human and why we are here, in the first place.
The essence of this was briefly and superficially touched upon many years ago in a TV commercial for Kodak photographic films, which begins with photos of individuals and a voiceover that says something to the eect that a photograph is a record that says, "I was." The photos shown were all old photos of people long dead and gone and the point was the preservation of the memory of people is and can be as simple as an old photograph of them. At the time I saw this commercial, Eastman Kodak was still very much in business and film was the way people made lasting images. There was no digital photography, no personal computers, no smart phones, and I was watching this commercial on a TV set in the squadron day room of the 1369th Photographic Squadron (now since long defunct) at Vandenberg Air Force Base, where I was working as a Still Photographic Laboratory Specialist, or photo lab technician. The memory, like many of mine, has stuck with me for a very long time and, as a photographer, to this day, it still retains a certain significance to me.
The significance of that message was, for me personally, contained in the words, "I was" and all that is implicit in them. That is the true essence of what I am writing about, here, i.e, the importance of being remembered.
The history of our species, according to the archaeological record, extends back to some 200,000 years or so ago in Africa. We are still finding out about humanity's beginnings, so the exact span of time isn't important, here. What is important is the fact that, for far more of our history than we can even imagine, everyone who lived and died, for tens of thousands of years, ultimately was lost forever, literally in the dust of time. Even those very few individuals whose fossilized remains have been unearthed and studied by scientists (archaeologists, anthropologists, geneticists, etc.) remain nameless, faceless people whose lives are a complete mystery to us. This has been the ultimate fate of all of humanity for far longer than our recorded history has existed. For these people, there never has been even the remotest chance of any record that speaks to we, the living, and says, "I was."
Many years ago, when I was in my late teens, I met an old woman who asked me how I intended to "leave my mark" upon the world. I told her I didn't really know and hadn't really thought about it, but I did understand what she was asking me and why. She, in her old age and wisdom, had a concern that far too many people were aimlessly living out their lives without a thought to how they will be remembered by people in the future. That is also my own concern, some 50 years later, as I near my 67th birthday. I am concerned that even more people than ever before are allowing their lives to pointlessly slip away from them without a thought to who they are today, let alone how they will be perceived (if at all) by future generations. In a highly technological society in which we have the means to preserve so much information in so many ways and ensure its survival for perhaps many thousands of years to come, it is alarming to me that so many billions of people today are aimlessly wasting their lives and will ultimately wind up forgotten, even by their own descendants, if they have any at all.
Having always been interested in history and prehistory, since I was a little boy, I have always thought about these things. It is what prompted me, at the age of 32, to take up genealogy, a lifelong pursuit I am still engaged in today. To date, I have accumulated data on well over 18,000 of my direct ancestors and distant cousins. Much of it consists of no more than a name and maybe a date of birth and death, and for many, less than that. Also included, though, are lengthy biographical sketches, richly detailed with the stories of some of my ancestors. But, for most of humanity, it is sadly the case that the vast majority have no idea who even their own great-grandparents were and some have less knowledge of their ancestry than that. There are, perhaps millions who don't even know who their own parents were. All of this is despite the fantastic growth in the popularity of genealogy and "genetic genealogy" that has occurred over the last 20 or so years.
With the advances of digital technology has come the decline of film-based photography and, with it, the decline in the number of actual photographs that still exist. The very relevance of what Kodak mentioned in its advertising so many years ago has become an anachronism within my lifetime. I sadly have to admit that I have very few of my family's photographs still left in my possession. The main reason for this, in my case, is the fact that my sister took all the family photo albums after our father's death in 1996 and, despite her assurances that she'd eventually scan those photos and share them with me and my brother, this never came to pass. She moved away and wouldn't stay in touch with me over the years and she has since died of cancer, in 2014. I learned that she had passed on the photos to her oldest daughter, now approaching 35, but both her daughters share her sociopathy and will not communicate with their uncles. I did get in touch with the oldest in 2014, after her mother's death, via email, and she told me that she has no interest in family, but that she had plans to, at some point in 2015, scan the photos and put them on a website for all of us to see. This, of course, never happened, and she has since vanished, along with her little sister, who has remained even more obscure. I'm sure that many can tell similar stories of familial disintegration, many worse than in my case, and I know they must face the same situation of having little, if any record of even their own childhood, let alone their family. The irony, in the case of my eldest niece, is that, when she was about 12 years old, she called to ask me for genealogical information, as she wanted to talk to her class at school about it, as a project she was assigned. I had hopes that this was the start of, not only a budding family historian, but of a connection between us that we could share for many years to come.
Those same advances in digital technology that have propelled the popularity of genealogy and enabled the connection of people who would have never met in this world in decades past has also, ironically enough, served to divide us further against each other, by dierences in ideology, politics, religion, opinion and interests. It has become exceedingly easy to wall oneself o from those who don't share our viewpoint and to isolate ourselves into cliques that share allied interests. Although this situation has resulted in a certain amount of backlash
against itself and there are now people seeking to reverse it, it is seemingly too little and too late. The very internet that was supposed to connect us all with each other has done more to divide people against each other, and to a far greater extent than humanity has ever been divided before. Absurdly enough, hundreds of millions of people who would have never even known of each other's existence, in the first place, have, once connected via the internet, rejected and "blocked" each other. Thus, people now seem to not only have more friends and relationships because of the internet, but more enemies, as well.
Through all this increased and decreased association, people are, more than ever before, craving connection and a sense of belonging. It is set against this backdrop that 21st century humanity is simultaneously on course toward fragmentation at the very same time that more of us than ever before in history have the potential to be remembered far into the future.
It used to be the case that, to be remembered into the future by any significant number of people was an enticement to many seeking a career in the arts or in science, architecture and other fields in which one could "leave their mark." To a certain extent, this is still the case for many people and the opiate of fame is as powerful as ever. In fact, it is arguably at a record high and the good news, for anyone seeking that fame, is that there are far more ways to achieve it now than there ever were before. But, correspondingly, there are also more people seeking it and that has greatly diminished the chance of acquiring any lasting fame, as well. Then there is the relative quality of that fame. Being "famous" on YouTube is today's big draw, even eclipsing the promise of becoming the next Hollywood star or recording artist, and the irony here is that, while the internet also created the ability for artists in any medium, whether it be visual art, music or film, to cut out the middleman and sell themselves directly to the public with an online presence, the initial problem of being found online by your chosen audience has been greatly amplified, as well. While it is still easier to achieve some level of "fame" online, the competition for attention has grown exponentially and, at the same time, achieving any sort of lasting fame in a sea of dubious talents has become just as unlikely as becoming the next James Dean or Beyonce.
In the end, as always, fame isn't necessarily the best route to being remembered. There are perhaps as many famous people who've long been forgotten as there are whose name will never be forgotten, and then there is infamy. You may succeed in being remembered for generations, but be careful of what you're remember for.
So, what then, if not being famous for something? How does one ensure they will be remembered into the future and in a good way? I know I said this wasn't going to be a "howto," and it really isn't, but it seems, to me, that doing something noteworthy, even if it may not be so glamorous as being a movie star or a rock star, is the surest path. For every household name on everyone's lips, there are always those whose name, while it may escape us without a Wikipedia search, is nevertheless memorable for some other reason. Take photographers, for example. We all know who Brad Pitt is, but how many people know who Ralph Gibson or Joel Meyerowitz are? Even the name Ansel Adams is probably unknown to many younger people, these days. Yet, these three are, indeed, famous photographers. So, fame is a relative thing. It all depends upon what field you're in and who your audience is. Everyone who is interested in photography eventually becomes aware of who these people are. When it comes to other fields, such as architecture, fewer, still, are household names and yet they made remarkable contributions to the world. There are probably many kids, these days, who've never heard of Frank Lloyd Wright, but most adults have. But, how many have ever heard of, say, Bruce Go or Richard Neutra? If we're talking about other fields, such as science, engineering or education, the list of names becomes even more obscure to most people, but among those who are in the "audience" for those fields, nearly everyone is familiar with them. I suppose the same is true for "famous" accountants.
The point is, being the best you can be at whatever interests you, whether it is a glamorous occupation or not, has always been a sure bet for being remembered well into the future. But then, that also depends upon how far into the future we're talking about, doesn't it? No one knows if humanity will endure for thousands of years to come, or even centuries, for that matter. Millions of years seems highly unlikely, given the state of things today, and, no, I'm not talking about climate change or nuclear war. If we last as a species for much more than a few more centuries, I would find that rather surprising, although I won't personally be around to find out.
So, what am I doing to leave my mark? Well, I don't expect to achieve any fame and certainly not within my own lifetime. A now famous photographer was once told by a gallerist, when he was young and just beginning his career, "Well, I can't sell these, but I can tell you that you'll be famous after you're dead." If my photography survives me for long enough, I may yet have a shot at that, but I'll never know if it does happen. I'm also an abstract painter and sculptor, but I think my strong suit is my photography, so, if I had to name what my "mark" is most likely to become, that would be it. Stranger things have happened. History is full of famous artists whose work was unknown until well after their death. A recent example is the nanny/street photographer Vivian Meyer, who was a complete unknown during her own lifetime. But, to a great extent, that was due to Vivian's own decisions. She did make one tentative attempt at gaining recognition for her work, by sending some prints to a gallery in Paris, which rejected her work. But, she gave up, at that point, and squirreled her photos away until her death. When it was finally discovered by a junk dealer who recognized the potential value of her work, it only became known to the world through his promotional eorts. I expect to do better for myself than Vivian Meyer did, though. For one thing, via the internet, I have already had my work seen and admired by many people all over the world, including many photographers and art dealers. I have self-published a couple of books of my work, with more planned for the future, although I am contemplating making those for free circulation, as getting my work known by people is more important to me than any amount of money. Another tactic I have yet to employ is finding someone or some institution I can entrust my work to after my death, in the hopes that it will be preserved and made available to the public.
One of the unfortunate restrictions to fame is that it's usually inextricably tied to generating a high income, but this hasn't always been the case. In fact, the first artists worked for nothing more than the sheer joy of creation and, I've got to tell you, as a fine artist, if you're doing art to make a living or get rich, you're doing it for the wrong reasons. Fortunately, I'm retired, albeit on a low fixed income, but I have the freedom to do as I please with my time, I'm still healthy enough and energetic enough, and that is the greatest wealth of all. If you don't have that, you really don't have anything.