Now, it came to pass that Governor Joe Lombardo did on a Wednesday, April 23–which is not the finest day in history but will do in a pinch–put his name to a bill most solemn and proper. Said bill makes it the business of every good Nevadan to mark January 27 as International Holocaust Remembrance Day.
The Governor, not one to loaf about in such a grave matter, gathered about him a company of Holocaust survivors–folks whose very presence tells a story weightier than words. With their witness, he signed his name in stout black ink, fixing it in law for as long as Nevada has a memory.
By this new decree, Governor Lombardo is obliged each year to send forth a proclamation, stirring the people to remembrance–not only of the Holocaust, which tore the world’s heart in two–but of other dark miseries where hatred ruled–and humanity forgot itself. The newspapers, town criers, brass bands, and public officials–who sometimes need reminding more than most–are also commanded to spread the word, lest time and forgetfulness do what cruelty could not–silence the truth.
Memory, like liberty, must be kept polished and aired out, or else it grows rusty and useless before a man knows it.
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