The Meaning of Memorial Day

A day to remember . . .

They went away to places they maybe had never heard of, maybe could not spell, maybe could not pronounce.

Places like Marne, Meuse-Argonne, Belleau-Wood.

Places like Leyte, Okinawa, Guadalcanal, Anzio, Saipan, Iwo Jima, Normandy, Ardennes.

And inchon, Pyongyang, Seoul, Kaeson.

Dien Bien Phu, Saigon, Chu Lai.

And many more.

So many, many more.

They went away in great numbers.

Young. Or just past young.

Ripped, yanked from the lives, the ways, the routines they had known.

Away -- some for the first time -- from the umbilical cord of home.

Away from that which was familiar, cherished.

Away from wives and husbands, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, relatives near and distant, friends, acquaintances.

Sent away on bouncing, rolling, tossing, smelly ships and roaring, crowded, shaky, uncomfortable airplanes.

Frightened. Uncertain. Homesick.

With no idea when they might get back.

If ever.

Certain, perhaps, only of what was expected of them, of what they must do when they got there.

There to those far-off places they maybe had never heard of, maybe could not spell, maybe could not pronounce.

Let alone locate on a map.

Yet they went.

Duty, loyalty, purpose, expectancy summoned them.

And, in the end, duty, loyalty, purpose, expectancy claimed them.

Claimed them in great numbers, numbers too large to precisely count. Estimates must do.

So today – this Memorial Day – we remember them.

Or should.

What they did.

The price they paid.

The price extracted at such staggering, brutal, heavy cost.

Proudly, reassuringly on this special day the flags in countless numbers gloriously wave, tugging mightily at the soul.

Majestically, buoyantly the bands again call up the tunes – the fanfares, the overtures -- that inspire, bring lump to throat, tear to eye.

In person and in photographs and in videos and in the 20-20 vision of the mind’s eye – though in some instances maybe blurred, dimmed by the passing of time -- we go to the national cemeteries and other cemeteries where by the hundreds of thousands those who went away are at deserved, honored, peaceful rest.

There where the row upon endless row of markers collectively and soberly and somberly remind of the incalculable price that has been extracted.

Painfully paid in full.

And then some.

Paid so that those of us who are here this day can go on and have opportunity to be all that we might be.

And so that those who come after us can too.

In another time, I found myself in Washington, D.C., and spent the better part of a day thoughtfully, reflectively walking the seemingly boundless expanses of Arlington National Cemetery, hours of solitude spent step-by-step absorbing the enormity of it all.

The endless sea of graves, with its wave after wave of white markers, in one sweeping view proclaiming the story of this place, a story brought hauntingly to mind and to an awakened, appreciative heart.

The Tomb of the Unknowns served as something of an ever-on-duty sentinel, seemingly there to silently but assuredly and perpetually, even prayerfully, watch over all who are within its reach.

It was autumn and the trees with their turning, seasonal mixture of oranges and reds and burgundies and golds and yellows and browns painted a serene, kaleidoscopic portrait, a fitting backdrop for those at their final, earthly home.

Now and then, soothing and uplifting bird songs blessed the day. A full yet comfortable sun gently kissed the quiet and hallowed grounds, as if to salute those interred there. A welcoming, soft blue, cloudless sky seemed to softly smile and say, “Well done.”

I walked.

I looked.

I wondered.

I wondered who the one now at rest at this particular marker just before me might have been.

Or the one at the next marker.

Or the next.

Or . . .

A father? A mother? A son? A daughter? A husband? A wife?

And what might they have become?

A doctor? A lawyer? A merchant? A mechanic? A police officer? A nurse? A teacher?

What were their dreams? Their hopes? Their goals?

Their assignments are over, achieved through valor, commitment.

Our dreams? Our hopes? Our goals?

They endure.

Made possible in large measure by what those whom we remember this day did when they went away to those places they maybe had never heard of, maybe could not spell, maybe could not pronounce.

Still, they went away.

And now they are here in these final resting places and their wars – their wars of long ago, their wars of not so long ago, their wars of this very moment – for them are over.

And what are we to make of the priceless, full measure, selfless gift they gave to us?

Fought and died on American soil....625,000...though Decoration Day was originated to honor the fallen Union soldiers of the American Civil War...that figure includes Confederate soldiers too.... now it's a commemoration of American soldiers killed in all wars. Military cemeteries are so neat and orderly and war is not....and it's sad that most people don't know what Memorial Day means except the start of summer vacation or a big sales event.

You can help, Wounded Warriors Program, and Health Care Insurance Companys need to put a big..."Kick In," Money Donation to enhance optimum....quality Health Care...  Honor all those who served... Volunteer to help communities....and I can assure you...you are helping families to better their lives and welfare.Two weekends ago we finished building and planting 18 Vegetables Garden Beds on the Allegheny River...it was an extremely hot muggy day..but it will provide "free food during harvest season...who dosn't love a fresh Tomato/Onion Sandwich and fresh honeydew mellon parfait!!! Vegetable Gardens make people smile..;)

8 out of 10? Disgraceful. What's the matter with your schools and your media? In the  UK, our special day for remembering fallen soldiers is Remembrance Sunday in November. Everybody knows what it's about. For weeks in advance the collection tin rattlers are out selling red poppies - a symbol of Flanders Fields - and woe betide any politician who fails to wear one when appearing on TV.
Almost every town and village has a war memorial - the names of boys who were raised in the cottage I now live are engraved there and I often wonder how they coped with being called up from the tranquility of North Wales to the bedlam of WW2. Sadly, for a small village like ours, two more names have been added from the war in Afghanistan. Being a small community, we really do feel the loss - 19 and 20 years old. While the 2 out of ten who respect the meaning of this day do your own remembering, I am minded to think of those closer to home.

"I was riding with him (Mr. Potts) in Montgomery County, Penn'a near to the Valley Forge, where the army lay during the war of ye Revolution. Mr. Potts was a Senator in our State and a Whig. I told him I was agreeably surprised to find him a friend to his country as the Quakers were mostly Tories. He said, 'It was so and I was a rank Tory once, for I never believed that America c'd proceed against Great Britain whose fleets and armies covered the land and ocean, but something very extraordinary converted me to the Good Faith!" "What was that," I inquired? 'Do you see that woods, and that plain. It was about a quarter of a mile off from the place we were riding, as it happened.' 'There,' said he, 'laid the army of Washington. It was a most distressing time of ye war, and all were for giving up the Ship but that great and good man. In that woods pointing to a close in view, I heard a plaintive sound as, of a man at prayer. I tied my horse to a sapling and went quietly into the woods and to my astonishment I saw the great George Washington on his knees alone, with his sword on one side and his cocked hat on the other. He was at Prayer to the God of the Armies, beseeching to interpose with his Divine aid, as it was ye Crisis, and the cause of the country, of humanity and of the world.

'Such a prayer I never heard from the lips of man. I left him alone praying.'"

I join Washington in prayer this morning on this sacred ground consecrated by the sweat and blood of men and women I shall never be able to repay but can only say thank you.

The eight out of ten number is suspect unless they polled idiots.  My two year old grandson knew that it was a day to wave his flag, if not exactly understand death and those who died, he knew it was a patriotic holiday.  The other thing I'd like to say is:   Thank you to all of the above for all of the above.

The statistics omit something.  The 407,000 dead in World War II is the second highest death toll in a war.  The highest is still the Civil War with estimates ranging from 618,000 to 700,000.  And that war is the reason for Decoration Day, now re-dubbed Memorial Day, which was a day to decorate the graves of the dead.  To all of you who are veterans, "Welcome Home.  Thank you for your service."  Lynn, formerly 1LT, Military Intelligence, HQS XXIV Corps, Phu Bai Combat Base, Republic of Vietnam.

To ALL our Veterans...  I THANK YOU and that doesn't even begin to cover it.  Every morning we wake up free we owe to you and I hope that you all know how much you are appreciated.
 On a side note, before I forget...  The Wounded Warrior Project is only for Service Men & Women who have been in combat since Sept. 11, 2001.  Not that their loss is any less important by any means, I just wanted to make sure eveyone knew since I tried to get them to help my father, a Vietnam Vet who has two forms of cancer from Agent Orange and was denied.

All my life I have revered and respected our Military....and of course my father who was in the Invasion of Okinawa in the midst of his long tour in the Pacific. Gratitude and acknowledgment must go to all our troops from every war as well as peacetime, but this particular Memorial Day also marks the 10th anniversary of my father's death so my thoughts are especially for him today.

To our wonderful Village Veterans, thank you so very much,. xoxox

.....where the citizenry IS generally in agreement..... sorry, emotional topic.

Hazel--good question--what IS wrong with our media and schools????  That said, however, I think our November Veteran's Day is probably more clearly understood.  We, too, do the red poppies and understand the honoring of veterans.  ******I think where the confusion lies has been pointed out here by others:  Memorial Day began as an honoring of Civil War vets.  I think it has just recently morphed into a more encompassing honoring all vets.    As a kid growing up in Michigan--non Civil War territory--Memorial Day was the first holiday of the summer.  It meant no more school, staying for a week at a time at Auntie Dorie's, a road trip to St. Louis in the next few weeks, staying up late and sleeping in.    At the Memorial Day picnic some of the adults would go off and decorate graves, but it wasn't confined to soldier's graves.  It was a good chance to clean up and spruce up a winter beaten gravesite and make it looked cared for again.

LotLot~ I thought I had something to say 'til I read your post! Profoundly, thoughtfully, appreiatively put! Thanks for artticulating sentiments many of us think but don't have the ability to express in words. Proud to have served. GeorgeSergeant, USMC July 28, 1954~October 27, 1958

lotlot---a great post,one I wish I had written,touching and sensetive and very truthful.  RWH1 Cpl. Tank Co. 38th Infantry Co. 2nd Infantry Div. several places in Korea.

I just saw a local news story about a 19-year old serviceman, who was killed by an IUD one week before his homecoming.  The grieving parents are spending the day at Jefferson Barracks at the gravesite of their brave young son.  The father of this young man spoke about the last time he saw his son, showing photos of their time together enjoying the Cardinals game, when they won the last World Series. Reduced to tears, the dad explained that prior to the loss of their son, he anticipated Memorial Day as a holiday from the work grind, but now, the day will forever be held close in his heart.  His grief and his words, although I don't know him, make it personal.   Now, when I visit my dad's grave in that same cemetery, I will be reminded that, as far as the eye can see, lay brave soldiers, important, loved and missed by someone. 

IED

Yes, I just realized I got wrapped up in more emotion than anything else.  I apologize. 

LotLot - Very fine expression of our sentiments....and touching tribute to all our soldiers for all time. Thanks for putting that up today.

Today, after the pool time with the grandmissy, we drove through the new National Cemetery on GA 20 just west of Canton. All those white headstones and American flags will bring a choking sensation to the throat, and a tear to the eye.

Memorial Day: for those who went to war and did not come home.  Veterens' Day: for those who went to war and came home and those who serve now.  To all those men and women we should be deeply grateful and hold them in our hearts as Lotlot so beautifully wrote.

Amy~ You didn't get wrapped up in too much! Thanks for  your  thoughts.

lotlot, beautiful...thank you and Amen.

Twenty comments?!  Oh my.  Here's mine:  to all her served, thank you for your sacrifices and your service to our country.  You're the best of the best, you are, and I'm proud to know you if I do, and proud to have you on my side anyhow, if I don't. ... They didn't make adequate words to express my feelings about you brave people, but please know my gratitude knows no boundaries.  And to my nephew in Afghanistan:  two thumbs up from a proud aunt to her "baby" Marine, with so much love - get yourself back here sooner than soon young man, you hear?  Like, yesterday would be fine with us.

to all "who" served 

Lotlot ~ Well said.
 May I add a prayer for all those who gave their lives and a prayer for those who served.
  Mr. Peterman, It is good to know that today was important enough to you that you would devote your time to another excellent introduction.  It would have been so easy to take that extra day off. 

And one last prayer for those who are serving now, both within our borders and on foreign soil.
 May the Maker of all things protect you and divine providence watch over you and guide you.

Oh...we spent a good part of the weekend visiting the older, historical cemeteries around this county and the surrounding counties - beautiful sights, all of them, in a bittersweet way.  There were scores of Civil War veterans graves in a little town called Honey Creek, and a monument dedicated to those locals who served in the War of the Rebellion - I hear you Southerners cringing - and I found several War of 1812 veterans' gravesites.  It was enlightening, our wanderings, and the sight of all those red white and blue flags waving over crumbling stones - I had mixed feelings.  Pride, awe,  and sadness that we're still fighting wars, and soldiers are still filling up cemeteries, and their loved ones are still placing flags and flowers by their names, and I don't think war will ever be something that "was" - and I'm sad about that.  But it was a sight to see, the little old towns with the cemeteries so proud and clean, ringed by black wrought iron fences and sitting right in the middle of the town itself where the fallen are once agains surrounded by their neighbors- it was very American-looking, and for better or worse, it is us, and they were ours, and we'll all just go on hoping for a better way than war but not being all that surprised when it never happens...   A good weekend, all in all.  The backroads show off the best of America, and confirms to me at least that what we created, this country, and what it's evolved into is a pretty nice place after all, and worth defending at any cost.

PARK Thank you for sharing your weekend journey with us. Your vivid descriptions provided indelible pictures for me and i really appreciate getting to go along with you.

Yesterday after my little cousins H.S. Graduation. My Mom, Dad, Sister & I went to the little country cemeteries that the relatives are in. We used to always go on Memorial Day as November in WI can be pretty unpredictable & the country roads a bit of a hazard. It was nice to go & be that family of just 4 again & hear my parents tell stories about the relatives we never met, barely remember or that we remind them of.

The one little Cemetery only has about 35 headstones in it, there used to be a Swedish Lutheran Church on the grounds, but it's been gone for many many years. I think the biggest surprise was how well cared for it is. Our Grandparents used to be the caretakers of it & it was nice to see that their standards have been kept up. Also our Great Aunt makes sure there are flowers & Flags placed for this weekend.

It however has started to make me wonder, who is going to make sure that these practices across the country continues? I often wonder if this is going to be a dying tradition, as it seems there are more VFW's closing due to lack of membership & people who just want to volunteer. It seems that learning & understanding our past & history has already fallen by the wayside & I often wonder if Memorial Day Respect & Flags for our Soldiers will also be a victim?..

rings90 ~
Across the table at lunch today, a man about as much younger than me as he is older than you, spoke of being made uncomfortable at the expansive Normandy military graveyards by the presence of French children running and laughing.
Maybe it's just me but I'm betting the young men beneath those rolling green acres would have loved it. They gave everything for it to happen.
I, for one, would be delighted to be put quietly to rest in a playground… or dog park.
But then, and this is where it gets very coincidental, he mentioned having spent part of his weekend working at a small, remote church graveyard where he was joined by the descendants of older people no longer up to the task.
I have never done that but it is nice to know that the tradition is in good hands.

I was touched by or in touch with everybody I love who loves me back this weekend I hope you all had that going for you too.

It's not just you. They gave everything for it to happen. No truer words were spoken.

Beautiful stories.  Thank you, all.  And Stoney, I second paolos comment.  I would love to be in a place with a wrought iron fence but a friendly unlocked gate, in the middle of a little country town, where children laugh and play, where people sit and have their lunch, where birds sing morning through dusk.  It would be a good afterlife, that - I especially love to hear the summer voices, like we heard at Honey Creek.  It was so heartwarming to see with my own eyes that places like that really do exist.