I was walking through the library at lunchtime a few weeks ago and as usual checked out the window boxes for the Veteran's Memorial. I excused myself as I stepped in front of a gentlemen who was standing close. As I finished checking out the memorabilia the gentlemen asked me a question, "Why did you stop?" I told him I stopped often because I had seen a photo of my Uncle Benny once and that I always find the display very touching. He asked me a few questions, took my picture and then in early November, he wrote this article.
Library memorial – By Cliff Radel for the Cincinnati Enquirer.
Last year, 1,408,323 patrons used the downtown public library – and, entered a war memorial. The entire building is dedicated to Hamilton County veterans who lost their lives in conflicts beginning with World War I.
Thirsty for knowledge, throngs of people pass by the Veterans Memorial display in the library’s lobby. Few stop.
Prudence Hunt visits at least once a week. “To me, this memorial is for all veterans,” the legal secretary from Fairfax said in hushed tones, “It is a place of remembrance and celebration.”
She always remembers her uncle and she celebrates the freedoms he fought for and lost his life defending. “He was the first soldier from Newport to be killed in the Korean War,” she said of her uncle, Benjamin Bristow. He was just 19.”
She looked at the Great Seal of the United States, dated “1954” and set in a brass circle on the floor. Her eyes followed the words inscribed on the seal’s rim:
“Dedicated to the many of Hamilton County who while in the armed forces gave life itself for God and country.”
She looked from the seal to an open book in one of the memorial’s display cases. That’s the book of homage. It lists the name of every Hamilton County veteran killed in combat since World War I. Every week, the case is opened and the page is turned. Another list of heroes appears.
Hunt read the names on the page in silence. They reminded her of her uncle.
“I have his uniform and the telegram my grandmother got from the government when he was killed,” she said. “I even have some of the records he made while he was over in Korea. They made those records instead of writing letters.”
The records made it home after his mother learned he had been killed.
“No one’s ever listened to those records,” Hunt said. The sound of her uncle’s voice was too painful for her grandmother to hear. After all of these years, the pain still lingers. Hunt can’t bear to listen to the records either.
“I’m going to give his things to the library,” Hunt said. “I don’t want them to die with me. I want them – and his memory – to live on.”
