My great uncle was in 'Dad's Army.' And I don't know if Americans

In the words of Daisy Ridley, there lies both a remembrance and a bridge between generations: “My great uncle was in ‘Dad’s Army.’ And I don’t know if Americans will know that. It was a hugely popular show in England.” Though her tone is humble and conversational, beneath it beats something older — the pulse of heritage, the sacred continuity of storytelling and memory that binds the living to those who came before. In her simple acknowledgment of kinship, she evokes a truth that all ages have known: that the past speaks through us, even when we do not fully hear its song.

To understand this saying, one must first know the tale of “Dad’s Army.” It was a beloved British comedy, born in the 1960s, depicting a group of ordinary men — shopkeepers, clerks, pensioners — who served in the Home Guard during the Second World War. They were not mighty warriors nor trained soldiers; they were citizens who, despite age and circumstance, stood ready to defend their home. The show was both humorous and tender, a celebration of courage in its most human form. To say that one’s great uncle was part of it is to carry a piece of that laughter, that resilience, that unspoken national pride. It is to be connected, however distantly, to a lineage of spirit that found dignity in the ordinary.

In this way, Daisy’s words speak not merely of fame or family, but of inheritance — the kind that cannot be measured in wealth or name, but only in the quiet passing of spirit. Her great uncle’s presence in such a show represents more than an artistic role; it represents the embodiment of an era, the living memory of a people who endured hardship with humor. When she speaks of him, she becomes a vessel of remembrance, carrying forward the essence of a generation that found light even in the darkness of war.

The ancients knew that to honor one’s ancestors was to honor oneself. In Rome, families kept imagines, wax masks of their forebears, displayed during processions as symbols of continuity and pride. These were not idols, but reminders — that each life, no matter how small it seemed, formed a vital link in the chain of destiny. So too, when Daisy Ridley recalls her great uncle, she takes her place in that same chain, acknowledging that who she is — an actress, a storyteller — springs from the soil of those who told stories before her, who stood upon smaller stages but with the same flame of expression in their hearts.

We often forget that art is not born in isolation. The laughter of one age becomes the inspiration of another. The characters of “Dad’s Army”, though fictional, carried the truths of millions who lived through that time. Their humor was their shield, their camaraderie their strength. By remembering this, we remember that even in an age of comfort and disconnection, we too have inherited their courage — the courage to face uncertainty with grace, to find meaning in simplicity, to love our people and our homeland even when both are imperfect.

Let us take a lesson, then, from this quiet recollection. Do not overlook the stories of your elders. Within them lies the soul of your people — the laughter, the endurance, the tears, the triumphs that shaped you long before your birth. If your family once sang, write; if they once labored, create; if they once endured, stand tall. For you are the echo of their unfinished song, the living continuation of their spirit. Heritage is not a burden, but a gift — a torch passed hand to hand through the corridors of time.

Action for the living: Speak to your elders. Ask them of their youth, of the days before your own, of the joys and fears that made them who they are. Learn the stories that lie within your blood. If you are far from home, carry those memories as your anchor. And when you tell your own story — whether through art, work, or love — let it honor those who came before. For just as Daisy Ridley’s great uncle once stood upon the stage of “Dad’s Army,” each of us too plays our part in the great theatre of history. And though the stage changes, the spirit remains the same — eternal, human, and beautifully connected.