In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields. Remember this day for what it is. Many enjoy the extra time off, then there are many who's day is sad. Then there are those who are still fully engaged. The torch is passed on.
There was a time in this country when the mention of Memorial Day evoked something more than the iconic images of military cemeteries and the Tomb of the Unknown Solider. The solemn holiday also returned to mind a particular face. In the wake of both world wars, then the wars in Korea and Vietnam, just about every family could recall a brother or father, cousin or friend who had gone off to fight and had not returned. The losses of battle honored on Memorial Day were intimate, not merely institutional. The shift from a national draft to an all-volunteer military changed that. Military service became a specialized vocation, not a broad civic obligation. Most of us no longer know what it’s like to look at an empty chair at the dining room table and sense the absence of a loved one who died in some faraway place while wearing America’s uniform. That reality brings real challenges for the country. If few of us know, at some deeply spiritual or emotional level, what the price of military service can cost, we may lack the wisdom to understand when it’s worthwhile to put warriors in harm’s way. That lack of gravity seems to inform our politics these days. There’s a sense of political contests as only a game, and not, as they ultimately can be, a matter of life and death. We must do better. In this year, perhaps more than others, that obligation looms larger. It should remain on our minds long after Memorial Day has passed.
D-Day....I don't know anyone who took part, but here's a funny after-the-fact story. My brother's USMC band went to France about 10 years ago, and visited the invasion beaches. My brother and his friend Dan were walking down one of the paths to Utah Beach. The thing to know is, more than 60 years later, they still find artifacts from D-Day, and usually, the French just leave it where they find it and rope it off. So my brother is walking down this path with Dan right behind him, and he hears Dan stumble and curse. Turned around....Dan had taken a bad step and caught his foot in 1944-era barbed wire. He's laying feet over head caught in the barbed wire and muttering, "Damn Krauts!"
I had the honor of serving in a color guard for a WWII reunion back in 95 or 96 in Orlando. An entire room full of guys that took that beach. One of the most humbling and exciting times of my life. It is rare that you get to spend that much time with walking talking history books and they are all insanely funny. Craziest bunch of old bastards I have ever been around. **Same hotel at the same time of the reunion was some sort of modeling convention. Those old goats were chasing all that tail all over the hotel as if they were 25. I on the other hand happened to be right about 25**
