Last month we visited family living in Portsmouth, a beautiful English seaside town with centuries of naval history, the world's oldest dry dock, and a quirky charm. The city itself is diverse - a University town, Royal Navy base, and holiday destination.
It is also a city of memorials to those who have lost their lives to the sea and war, in service of their country. Alongside the promenade, inside the churches, and throughout the city there are tributes to those lost, those serving and those remembered. Because of the vital role the city and its people (natives and relocaters alike) have played in England's military and maritime history, the memorials act as a reminder of the great sacrifices made. It felt like a sacred place.
On our first day, we visited the D-Day Museum in Southsea. One particular exhibit focused on local narratives to provide a living history of World War II for the people of Portsmouth. This form of history and storytelling, in addition to preserving memory and raising the voice of people directly affected by war, has great potential to humanize history. One excerpt that struck me was the memory from Sheila Foy, "child in Portsmouth," who shared: "When it was a raid above us we used to sing as loud as we could and Mum used to have a little present for the one that could sing the loudest. You had to really shout and sing loud so you couldn't hear the bombs coming over."
I felt profound respect for Sheila's mother, who found a way to bring some kind of peace in that time of war. This, to me, felt like another type of memorial to those who sacrificed and suffered during the war. It added another dimension to the character of the city and the people who did their duty during wartimes. 
In my experience of collecting narratives from the Troubles with the Five Decades Storytelling Project, I have found that this form of everyday heroism existed throughout times of conflict. Stories of mothers and fathers protecting their children and children continuing to play despite the war outside exist across conflicts in different times and places. Ultimately these stories and collections are memorials to the life that continues in the face of so much loss and pain.
In a world of memorials and tributes to those lost, I find it essential and meaningful to also remember those who fought, in many different ways, to find peace in times of war. Memorials like these can pay respect to the women, like Mrs. Foy, who found a way to elevate music above the sounds of war.
