Midcoast resident Heather D. Martin wants to know what’s on your mind; email her at heather@heatherdmartin.com.

Here we are at the start of February and, apparently, the federal government has “canceled” Black History Month? It’s hard to tell exactly what has actually been done about this, or what it means to those of us on the ground, but… yeah.

The statement from the government declared that no longer will there be the established celebrations of Martin Luther King Jr. Day, Black History Month, Women’s History Month, Pride, or other “special celebrations.”

This is very disappointing to me. I already bought a schnazzy new green sweater in anticipation of St. Patrick’s Day. Darn it. Now what am I going to do?

Oh, wait a minute… hang on.

OK, I’m looking at the list of 11 canceled celebrations and… yeah. St. Patrick’s Day is not on there. Hispanic Heritage is. American Indian is. Holocaust Remembrance Day is. But not St. Patrick’s Day. Or Oktoberfest for that matter. Hm. I wonder what the difference is?

OK, that came out snarky. I can’t help myself. Here’s the thing: celebrations matter.

Taking time to focus in, pay attention, and shine a light is a very human thing. It is how we understand each other better. Not to mention ourselves. It brings joy. It sparks conversation. It builds community – whether you are celebrating the heritage of your family, or learning more about your neighbor’s. It’s a good thing.

Here’s the other thing: banning a celebration doesn’t change or erase the culture or the history behind it.

You can opt out of having a birthday party, but you still turn one year older. You can ignore the contributions and tribulations of other cultures – but that doesn’t mean they didn’t happen. What does happen is you miss out. You miss knowing how things in your world came to be, the story behind our shared culture, the lessons we should know about our past in order to make informed decisions about our future.

So, I am going to take a page from another celebration story and celebrate Black History Month anyway. Sort of “Whoville” style, if you will. Just as in years past, I will be using this month to be a little more deliberate in paying attention and reminding myself of some of the many people of color who have made our world better, richer, more worth living.

In addition to Garret A. Morgan, who invented the three-color traffic light we all use to get where we are going safely; and Frederick McKinley Jones, who invented automated refrigerated trucks, enabling me to get vegetables in winter – OK, who are we kidding, ice cream all year – Lonnie Johnson, inventor of the super soaker; Katherine Johnson, Dorothy Vaughan and Mary Jackson, whose astronomical (yes, that’s a pun, astronomy) mathematical and scientific brilliance was portrayed in the movie “Hidden Figures,” there are folks close to home.

This week, I am giving myself the gift of talking about Ashley Bryan. It’s true, he wasn’t born in Maine. He was born in the Bronx, right near where my mom was born in fact. However, Maine is where he built his studio, and this is where he called home.

Bryan showed his artistic and creative brilliance early, winning awards and special acclaim at school. In the army, Bryan served overseas during WWII. He was there on the beaches at Normandy – but even as he fought for freedom on the global scale, he suffered painful and profound discrimination within the army itself.

Returning home, he took command of his own story, creating art and literature that was filled with color, light, love and celebration. Celebration of the world, and celebration of what it is to be Black. A celebration all were invited to join, no matter your own color or heritage.

To know more about the life of this extraordinary human, I suggest the documentary “I Know a Man.” To put some joy in your day, pick up any of his books and settle in for a good read.