209 – Memorial Day

Memorial Day… Today is memorial day in America. Although this day had different names and different dates, the official holiday of Memorial Day was made a legal holiday in 1967. It is a day set aside specifically to honor the memory of people who died while serving in America’s armed forces. Almost everyone in America has a relative who died serving in some conflict. World war 1, world war 2, Vietnam, the Korean conflict, the gulf war…something. I would bet that almost everyone living today has an ancestor that died in a war. If they didn’t die, they were wounded, or captured, or something else. I for one, think it is a good and noble thing America is doing; setting a day aside to remember these people who gave their life. However they died, under whatever circumstances, they did so in the service of something larger than their self—right or wrong. There they were; putting themselves in harms way for a concept, an idea, or simply to help the man beside him. By my definition they are all heroes, each one of them. My family has a slightly different tradition on Memorial Day. We travel to the graves of all our ancestors that are within traveling distance. There, we place flowers on their graves, we clean their stones. We remember them, and tell stories, and speak of their deeds in life. Then we honor their memory individually and as a family, wether they died in war or not. We went and did this yesterday, on Sunday as is our custom. As I was standing in one of the the cemeteries yesterday I was awe struck by the number of flags I saw on graves. You see, in this cemetery, every veteran buried there has a flag placed on their grave by the cemetery staff. I was standing there looking at a sea of flags waving at the grave of each veteran. I was touched, because I was looking an an Army of dead men who died in service. A literal Army of them based on the vast numbers of flags I saw. I was humbled, as I thought of the amount of blood spilt. The amount of individual pain and suffering each one of those flags represented. Then I was even more shook, as I thought of the impact all these deaths had on the family members of these brave souls. They were fathers and sons and brothers and uncles. They were husbands, and men who were betrothed to marry. Each one of those flags I saw represented an enormous amount of pain and grief that affected entire families. Then I looked at the graves of my own family. There were some flags, but many of them had no flags at all. Many of them were just ordinary...