THE New Zealand Herald AND DAILY SOUTHERN CROSS. SATURDAY, APRIL 23, 1932. ANZAC HONOUR.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIX, Issue 21165, 23 April 1932, Page 10

THE New Zealand Herald AND DAILY SOUTHERN CROSS. SATURDAY, APRIL 23, 1932. ANZAC HONOUR.

In t the presence of a rising generation to whom the Great "War is becoming a matter of history, to be read about in books, it is well that there should be a reverent keeping

of Anzac Day. There would be dire loss if what happened in those crucial years were allowed to become no more than a record. Even the best of literature can do little more than embalm events; seldom, indeed, is it that any spark of inspiration can be struck by old story. More can be done with symbols. 'They are the breath of life for mind and soul. In all ages, men and women have been Nature s children, and they have found in their home of earth a means of education —in

the things about them, suggestive of meanings deeper than the senses can reach. Fire and water, sunlight and cloud, daydawn and dark, all living things with shape and colour and fragrance, many inanimate things, have served an intellectual and spiritual end. They are not there, as Carlyle explains, on their

own account; strictly speaking, are not there at all: they exist to "body forth" some idea. Anzac Day, like all other times of stirring observance, t.ses with naturalness this habit of the race. Everywhere symbolic things are prominent and honoured—memorial buildings, monuments, uniforms, flags, wreaths, and activities, even silences, appropriate to tho day—and these all serve to quicken memory, to arouse thought, to shape purpose. The very setting apart of the Day has its influence in thus touching life. So long as the occasion be fitly used, it will teach as no written story can. To give it that use is a sacred duty. It is not a mere memorial of war. If that were all, it would tell of some things better forgotten; yet even the sadder side of the past is worth recall, were it only to give admonition and warning. There are in the story, however, other things, beyond price and purchase yet desirable above almost everything else: courage and patience and sacrifice. And the symbols marking the Day give them voice where the silence of the heart ensures a hearing. Thus Anzac Day can and does impress a generation knowing little at first hand of the anxiety and sorrow, the relief and pride, brought by the war. Material memorials come to life and meaning, not only by the sight of things that might otherwise be hidden but also by the honour paid to them in an act of general regard. This year there is a special reason for using the Day so in this city. The 801 lof Honour in the Memorial Museum has been completed and will bo. unveiled with fitting ceremony. Name on name, those of this provincial district who gave their lives in days solemnly recalled are given a place where eyes can quietly gaze and hearts, be attent. This adds to the edifice a touch leeded to make it fulfil its cominemc rative purpose. "Without the 801 l th'c war effort of the district woul 1 have had certainty of recollection ; the building embodies well all jn that way so worthy of visible remin.ier. Yet, with no personal element in that reminder, there might have been no effective appeal to va.our and endurance and self-forgetting. Sacrifice remains an abstract rirtue until it is known as an act of individual devotion. Then it becomes a pleading example as well as a dairn to deep admiration and gratitude. Personal service is seen to be what it really is, a dedication in some measure of ability to minister to others' weal. And the measure of the service commemorated by the 801 l was pressed down and running over. "Their all they gave." Utoer readiness to die, not counting their lives dear unto themselves, is betokened by this long and varied list of men and women from whom was exacted by circumstance the utmost proof of dedication to a solemn purpose. Without distinction of ran c or station they share the honour given, but every name stands for i pulsing personal life—each distinct in a way past forgetting. The memorial becomes endowed with life, and its influence is a thousandfold more telling.

To cherish this completed memorial is henceforth a civic duty, that this appeal of life to life —not merely of the dead to the living—may never fail or falter. Anzac Day, with its wealth of symbolic suggestion, should be kept free from risk of degradation. It is now fenced about with law, but that is not enough. Laws are unmade as well as made. When the rising generation, knowing so little of what the out-grown struggle really meant, has its say, the Day may suffer reduction of status to (he level of many another historical landmark. Nothing can keep it secure from that except a perennial spirit of appreciation. And how can such a spirit be kept alive? By care, each recurring Anzac Day, to give the occasion and its symbols full opportunity to make their impression. In this way, a national habit of reverent thoughtfulness about all for which the Day and the Roll stand will be built up. Then will there lie no disposition to esteem lightly what to an earlier generation was deeply sacred, but rather a determination, based upon experience, to keep it inviolate. There cluster about it personal memories that will pass on in the heritage of families, and thoughts that should vitalise the best energy of the nation. To ensure these an enduring place is not mere justice to the past: it is a duty to the future.