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REFLECTIONS
The Stillness of a Memorial Day Morning
And every morning for the mourned
Memorial Day means many things.
For children too young to remember or too young to understand, it’s the first real day of summer. Shorts and t-shirts. Picnics and barbecues. Hot dogs and burgers on the grill. Heaping bowls of red, white, and blue fruit (strawberries, watermelon, cherries, honeydew, white peaches, blackberries, and blueberries all serendipitously in season). Cherry, blueberry, or banana cream pie.
I’m a transplant here, but over four decades I’ve I’ve experienced the solemnity and the purpose of this day: to memorialize those who died in service to their country.
We’re human, so we’re flawed. We often fall short of that to which we aspire. We often disagree. About many things, including the conflicts for which our service people died. Their impetus: greed or glory? Their geography: did we belong there at all? Their duration: could the conflicts have ended sooner and cost fewer lives?
None of that matters today.
Today, we honor the heroes who stood between us and horror. We honor them with the mournful wail of Taps. With flyovers at baseball games. With flags flown at home. With rows and rows of flags fluttering in formation across cemeteries. With solemnity and purpose.
They were there and we weren’t. They deserve our gratitude.
Today, for a moment or more, stop and listen to their silence.
