This essay was first written for Memorial Day 2019. I’ve edited and expanded it this year.
Defined by War
Memorial Day: the day to remember those who have died in the service of our nation. As Lincoln said at Gettysburg: “It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.”
Generations are defined by war. The beginnings of Memorial Day were in “Decoration Days” started even before the guns of the Civil War went silent. Both Northerners and Southerners placed flags and wreaths upon the graves of those lost. After the War, that became a tradition for both sides at the beginning of the summer season, decorating graves. In 1860 the population of the United States was just over thirty million; 600,000 died in the war, two percent. (Two percent of today’s population would be almost eight million.) There were plenty of graves to decorate; plenty of veterans to honor. The ceremonies grew into the Memorial Day of today, along with the picnics and the politics that went along, both then and now.
Those We Knew
I think of Memorial Day as a day to remember those who I personally knew sacrificed to earn the honor. I think of my parents, part of the Greatest Generation, who lived amazing lives after their War. But with all of their life of “adventure”, World War II was still the crucible. It was the seminal event that shaped their lives.
I think of my contemporaries, guys I coached with like Chuck Eastham. Chuck went to the war in Vietnam at 17, and forever remained a proud Marine. But he suffered from the effects of his war for the rest of his life. The memories of what he was required to do to survive in that war, haunted him throughout his life. And his exposure to the chemical weapon used in Vietnam, Agent Orange, finally took his life just a couple years ago.
And I think of my “kids,” those who I taught and coached in school, who came back from their wars in Lebanon and Serbia, Iraq and Afghanistan. Many of them suffer from the physical and mental effects of America’s long involvement in world conflicts. They all offered their lives up for their country, willing to make the ultimate sacrifice.
At What Cost?
When I was a young teacher here in Pataskala, Ohio, there was an older man who wandered around town. He wasn’t homeless, but he was of “lost mind.” He walked the streets talking to himself, unintentionally scaring the younger kids. Older kids made fun, but the local merchants took care of him. There was always a cup of coffee, or a hamburger available as he wandered from place to place.
I found out his story, eventually. He also was only seventeen when he volunteered to serve in the World War II Navy. His ship went to the Pacific, and in the midst of battle, was torpedoed and sunk. He made it off the doomed vessel. But sometime between when the torpedo hit and when he was dragged from the ocean waters several hours later, he lost his mind.
Young people go to war willing to sacrifice for their nation. They think of death, they think of physical wounds, of amputations and burns. But they don’t ever think that they could lose what they value most, themselves, and survive. But that young man did.
He lived with his family here in town. The kids learned his story, and most appreciated the ultimate sacrifice he made, and more importantly respected his right to be left alone. He was our little town’s Memorial Day, every day.
On the Streets
There are many veterans like him on the streets today. According to Government figures, there are over 40,000 homeless veterans, nine percent of the homeless population. For some homelessness is a choice made as a result of effects from their service. But for most it is a combination of circumstance, disability, and substance abuse. For all it is a lousy repayment for their record of service. For some “normal folks”, it may be too much or too scary to directly interact with the homeless. But as we walk quickly past with eyes averted, keep in mind: one in ten fought for us.
It’s Memorial Day. The sun is out, the burgers are hot on the grill, the beer is cold in the cooler. As we celebrate the beginning of summer, the end of school and with this particular year, the reopening of our lives: remember those we have asked for sacrifice. To quote Hamilton (once again) –
Raise a Glass to Freedom – Something they can never take away.
Raise a glass to those who have sacrificed for our freedom. Their honor is something that “…can never be taken away.” Then remember them as the friends they were – and drink up. It’s what Mom and Dad and Chuck would want us to do.
