Reflections on Memorial Day

What did you do this Memorial Day? Did you visit one of the national cemeteries and help place flags on the graves of fallen service members? Or did you attend a local event in your community? Perhaps you were in Washington, DC, and attended the rainy National Memorial Day Concert on the west lawn of the Capitol. Most likely you gathered with family and friends to enjoy activities and welcome the unofficial start of summer. Picnics, BBQs and music venues have always been popular ways to celebrate this three-day holiday, but in the midst of your fun and relaxation, did you remember what this day truly means? Earlier today I heard that our country has been celebrating Memorial Day for 150 years, but I was surprised by how little I knew about this holiday. So my curiosity drew me to my computer where I got an important history lesson.

Memorial Day originally called Decoration Day is a uniquely American holiday that began after the Civil War. Sadly, that war claimed more lives than any other conflict, and as a result the first national cemeteries were established to bury all the dead. After the war ended in 1865, communities informally came together to pay tribute to the fallen heroes by decorating the soldiers’ graves with flowers. Three years later in 1868, General John A. Logan, Commander-in-Chief of a Northern Civil War Veterans organization, issued General Order Number 11 designating May 30 as a day to remember the Civil War dead. On that first official holiday more than 5000 people gathered in Arlington Cemetery to place flowers on 20,000 graves and the important tradition of remembrance was established. This tradition continued for a hundred years until 1968 when Congress passed the Uniform Monday Holiday Act making the last Monday in May, Memorial Day and a federal holiday.

As a child, I remember my mother talking about “decorating graves” but did not understand how or why she did that. It was an important ritual that was both personal and patriotic. Her best friend’s husband had been killed in Europe just days before WWII ended so this was one way to honor his sacrifice. After daddy died, it became a special way for mom to remember him by putting flowers on his grave.

Throughout this Memorial Day weekend, I have thought so much about my father and his service in WWII. He was not a young man when he enlisted in the Army in 1942, but he was proud to serve his country even when it meant being away from his wife for almost three years. While he never forgot those seemingly endless days in the jungles of New Guinea, he did not dwell on the hardships. He had an important job to do: help win the war and return to his loving wife. Nothing else mattered.

Like many of the returning service members, he eventually joined a Veteran Service Organization. Both the American Legion and the Veterans of Foreign Wars provided him and his war buddies a safe outlet to celebrate their success and to forget their harsh working conditions. My dad was a member of both groups and even became a Commander of the local VFW Post 5154. He enjoyed the weekly Tuesday gatherings with his fellow veterans as they shared a common bond that civilians did not understand.

I did not fully appreciate the importance of those organizations until recently when I visited his VFW Post. I had only been there once as a child when there was a large air show at the adjacent airbase. I remember feeling like a midget standing next to the powerful jet planes and my heart raced with excitement when their engines roared to life. I felt that same excitement when I walked inside the post and saw my father’s photo on the wall of past Commanders.

David Brock, the current Commander was my host and showed me around. A group of guys were playing cards in one corner of the musty room, and I imagined my father there too, enjoying a beer and talking with his buddies. Then I saw their large meeting room where dad had started a campaign to get wheelchairs, crutches and other assistance for disabled veterans.

Unexpectedly another display captured my attention, the table promoting their Buddy Poppy Program. I had been part of that as a young girl greeting customers at Paine Pontiac where dad was the parts manager. Always very talkative, I had a convincing sale’s pitch and my dad was so proud of my fearless and successful efforts. I am smiling now, remembering that special connection with him.

One more room held an additional surprise. The wall of this small meeting room was plastered with familiar women’s photos. As I strained to read the names, I realized these were the leaders of the Women’s Auxiliary and many of my mother’s friends. I had no idea how involved our entire community had been in the VFW. Yet, I should not have been surprised as everyone in that small East Tennessee community had been touched in significant ways by the war.

 My visit that day renewed long-forgotten memories and also expanded my gratitude for my parents and the men and women of their generation. Their sacrifices brought an end to that war some 73 years ago and with it unprecedented growth and prosperity of our country. On this Memorial Day, we must not forget them or any of our war dead. We must also remember the brave men and women who are still fighting and dying for our freedom. These simple words are my sincere tribute to all of you. Thank you for your service!