REFLECTIONS ON MEMORIAL DAY
(…our once-a-year gesture to tradition)

We Americans love our dead heroes…much more than any of those who’ve somehow managed to come home alive to us…no matter how physically or emotionally mangled they may be (just look at the VA).

It’s never been an easy day for me, and over the years I’ve come to prefer just getting together with those few of my friends who’re still here, rather than attend the public ceremonials for it, to share a quiet day, good food, and a glass or two, as we reminisce …old soldiers lazing in the sun and telling tall tales about the military adventures of their youth.

This day seems to have become an extremely ritualized performance…our once-a-year gesture to tradition, with empty solemn displays by a “grateful nation” for all those who sacrificed themselves in its name…with sweet young scouts flagging graves…career politicos mouthing their same old platitudes as they do their PR wreath-laying obligations …Hollywoodites performing their showcase patriotism …air shows…and… parades here and there around the country where such collective remembrances still abide. All of that… promptly set aside as everyone stampedes for the exits at the earliest possible moment to head for…the Indie 500 car races…ball games…sales extravaganzas of one kind or another…the beaches…and of course…those backyard barbecues.

Meanwhile, our national cemeteries are left with their acres and acres of stones, row upon row of them, standing in eternal vigil over those who rest there, in a silence as deep as that of any long abandoned ghost town of the old West.

Well, perhaps we’ve been here too long, seen too many of these occasions, and lost too many comrades and friends not to sound a wee bit cynical about it all. Then again, it may just be that we’ve come to realize that…our day will come…when we too must join the ranks of those already there…to wait for another crop of bright young scouts to flag our own place of rest…and endure yet another clutch of career politicos droning the same old tunes about how much they care about our devotion to duty, honor, and country, etc.. At which point I might just rise right back up to growl out…excuse me, young sir, you’re disturbing the peace. Kindly go place that wreath of yours elsewhere…or I’ll come back and haunt your sorry butt right in the middle of your next election campaign!

Well, we who’ve served understand that, yes, freedom is not free, but what the hell, this is our American way of appreciating that fact, so who are we to grumble about it? Perhaps the following two items sums it all up best for us.

CENTURION

Chestertown, Maryland 1946

A SOON FORGOTTEN WAR
Wearily thrusts the bayonet
that marks his lonely grave, shattered is his helmet that once protected him.

Muzzle down by his bloody boots his rifle stands in silent sentry, its rotting leather sling shivering in the breeze.

A pounding surf flings foaming spray which comes to moisten silent lips, while only seagulls come to call, and scream his praise.

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Paris, France November, 1996

FOR ALL OUR FATHERS

One by one they slowly fade away those grand heroes of our youth. old defenders of our liberties, for which they had sacrificed so much.

Steadfast always to their faith of pursuing happiness in life. unsung to all but we who knew them, they go to deserved rest, a glory for our remembrance.

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