The ancient Egyptians revered their scribes. The pharaoh was a scribe. One of the craters on the moon is named after Thoth, god of the scribes. According to a poem that I believe is ancient (but can’t remember where I found it or all of the words), the scribes may be dead, their families gone, but what they wrote will keep the memory of them alive as long as there are readers.
That doesn’t necessarily mean their names are remembered. Like wonderful character actors, you may forget the names but you remember the faces and the way you felt watching their work. Today, that hope of someone remembering my words if not my name is enough to get me back to the keyboard. I encourage you all—keep on writing, keep on publishing, keep on blogging. Even if our words offer only a fragile immortality, they are our best monuments.