This year, George Bush spent four hours in Mongolia. Ten years ago this summer, my son and I spent three weeks there.

The last morning I was in Mongolia, I went for a walk around the neighborhood where we'd been staying. As I walked, I came upon men using hacksaws to tear down one of the many monuments in the city.

In 1995, the Soviet Union no longer existed. Just four years after the peaceful revolution that began during the cold winter of 1991, when crowds surged into the capital to demand the overthrow of Communism, the Mongols were rapidly dissolving the close ties they had had for almost 70 years with the Soviet Union, and reaching out to the West, and especially America.

And so the monument had to go. Because like many such monuments across the formerly Communist countries, it was colorful, with bright pictures of brave Soviet workers, and their Mongolian counterparts, reaching out to each other, in bonds of Communist friendship. But the monument represented a reality that was no longer real.

I had my camera with me, and I took a few pictures of the workmen, and their early Saturday morning task. But they thought better of documenting their work, and waved me away, their sign language saying my photography was not welcome.

Symbols are important. Symbols tell us what is important to us as countries and people and families. Monuments are symbols. And Communist monuments were falling all over Mongolia that year. The one I saw collapse was only one of many.

I became interested in Mongolia when I was 16. That was 1971, and Mongolia was a mystery then, inaccessible, and remote. The country was ruled by a harsh Communist dictatorship. By contrast, the Prime Minister of Mongolia in 2005 has a masters degree from Harvard, and Mongolia has one of the freest markets on the world scene.

The Mongols ruled much of the world 800 years ago, when Genghis Khan's forces swept across Russia, conquering the world as far as Vienna. And then the Mongols went into a centuries-long decline, with domination by China. A revolution occurred in 1911, throwing off Chinese rule, but a further revolution in 1921 began a long, dark reign of Communism in Mongolia.

Now Communism is gone. Mongolian children are required to learn English as part of their schooling, and the Mongols refer to America as their "third neighbor." My friends who are Mongolian grew up being taught that they should hate America. But America is hated no more, and Mongolia is one of America's staunchest allies in Asia. Mongolia has changed, as has much of the world. There is evil in our time, but likewise much to be hopeful for. Mongolia's Prime Minister Elbegdorj put it best when he greeted President Bush with the words, "Welcome to Mongolia. Welcome to freedom." Indeed: welcome to freedom. May we all cherish these words of hope, both in our country, for the Mongolian people, and around the world.