Today we are talking about something older than empires and more stubborn than forgetting. It is the simple act of remembering the people history does not bother to name. Long before textbooks and archives, people poured out libations. Wine, oil, water, a small offering tipped onto the ground to say someone lived, someone mattered, someone was not invisible.



We tend to think of that as a strange ancient habit. But the question behind it never went away. Who will remember me. Who will pause long enough to say my name, or at least admit that I was here.



History is very good at big stories. Wars, plagues, kings, and generals. It is far less interested in the ordinary people who carried the weight of those stories on their backs. Tonight, we are going to talk about that gap. About what history can do, what it cannot do, and why pouring out the libations of history still matters now.

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