Memorial Day

This is a tough holiday for yours truly. But not as tough as it is for the many people for whom the day brings a reminder of loved ones lost in America’s wars.  I truly can’t imagine the emotional burden of these deaths far from home.

I wore my country’s uniform when I was young, went overseas, even to VietNam briefly (and relatively safely). There’s a good reason why you never saw my face on any newsreels. I never dealt with bombs and bullets. At the time, I would have gone wherever they sent me but I readily admit I’m glad I didn’t have to go places where people I didn’t know might have taken a personal interest in killing me.

Frankly, I wish there was no Memorial Day. No memorials, either. I wish they weren’t necessary. But they are. As long as politicians continue to be less than perfect and motivations less than honorable, there will be wars. And as long as there are wars, there will be young men – and now, young women – going off to place their lives and limbs between danger and home. And as long as that happens, we should honor them.

In some cases, we should do a much better job of honoring our fallen. The VietNam Memorial in Washington D.C. is one I personally find offensive. I have friends with their names on that obscene gash in the earth. We shouldn’t have to fight wars and this one was particularly questionable but those who fought there deserved to come back to a nation’s thanks. And those who died there deserved to be honored by a memorial that didn’t appear to hide in shame from public view. I’ve touched that wall, touched The Bear’s name, and I’ll never go back. Dave and The Bear and fifty-eight thousand other young men and eight young women deserved better.

There are many memorials that I’ll visit again and again because I feel that attachment of reflection on the deeds of those whose contributions pulled us all back from the brink. One of my favorite tourist things to do is to stand in the spot where King told us of his dream and Marian Anderson sang. The first time I saw the memorial to Korean War vets, I approached it from behind in a driving rain. As I came even with that eternal patrol, I glanced over and was consumed by the ghosts etched in the reflecting wall.

There are lots of memorials that pull at my heartstrings. I wish there weren’t. I wish there wasn’t a reason for them. And I hope someday we’ll erect a memorial to the men and women currently serving in the Middle East, and that we’ll do better by them than we did for the veterans of our ill-advised adventure in VietNam.