Memorial Day 2011
By Jim Wright (Stonekettle Station)
It’s a beautiful day here in the Alaskan Mat-Su.
It’s perfect day for grilling out or just working in the yard or maybe taking nice hike – and I may do all three.
It’s also nearly ten years now since those terrible days of 2001.
A full decade of war and death and sacrifice. For some of our children, the most recent generation and the ones just now reaching the age of reason and awareness, they have never known an America not at war. Think about that. Their grandparents came of age in the 1950s, and if you were white and of the new middle class, what a wondrous peaceful golden age it was – unless you happened to be one of those who went off to the Forgotten War. Those few years of the 1950s are last truly peaceful decade our country has known. The so-called Greatest Generation will always have that, the 1950’s. That nostalgic oasis in a desert of conflict. Those of us born in the 1960’s, we grew up under the shadow of Vietnam and the tie-dyed nuclear chaos of that decade. Those who came after us lived with the constant churning uncertainty of the collapsing Cold War and one brush fire conflict after another and now the results of 9/11. For all of us born since the start of Vietnam, we will never have such a time as the 1950’s to look back upon. Never. Imagine that.
Sixty years now we’ve been at war in one form or another,
Today there are those who instead of picnicking with their familiars, instead of working in their yards or enjoying the day, will be patrolling the dark and dangerous parts of this world. They’re out there, right now, walking the bitter broken mountains of Pakistan, patrolling the terrible destroyed streets of Iraq, standing the long watch on and below and above the seas, in the fetid festering jungles of South America, in the dry dusty deserts of Africa, in the deadly skies over Libya, in cold airless orbit far above the Earth, on local bases in their own states and in places so remote you’ve never even heard of them – and wouldn’t believe the descriptions of such places if you did. Some of these men and women will not live out today. Some will most certainly come home to Dover Air Force Base in a cold steel box beneath the draped colors of the Stars and Stripes, their war over, their dreams fled.
And yet, most would have it no other way.
And there are those who wear the uniform, but can no longer serve – their duty stations are the rehabilitation wards of military hospitals around the world. They won’t be working in the yard or hiking today either. Some will spend the day with family, even if they are unaware of it. Soon too their last battle will be over.
And there are those who no longer serve, no longer wear the uniform, but they still fight. They fight the demons of Vietnam and Beirut and Mosul and Firebase Alpha and a thousand other battles you have never heard of. Many are already dead, killed in action, only they no longer have the wit to know it and so they haunt the streets of America, the forgotten ghosts of war and conflict, slowly fading away.
And there are those who no longer fight, no longer struggle, no longer remember. They lay entombed in the soil of foreign nations, at Normandy, at Tunis, at the Ardennes, at Brookwood and Cambridge, at Flanders and Lorraine, at Manila, Mexico City, in the Netherlands, and the Somme and many other places whose names most Americans no longer remember or never knew. One hundred and twenty four thousand, nine hundred and nine American servicemen lay interred forever in twenty four cemeteries on foreign shores and there they will stay, never to return to America. They were the lucky ones, if you can call it luck, found and honored and laid to rest by their fellows. Others, well, their bones are myriad and they litter the sea floor beneath all the oceans of the world or are lost in the jungles and deserts on all the world’s continents, their resting places unknown and unremembered. Here, within the boundaries of the United States, there are one hundred and forty six national military cemeteries, and more than a million Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, Airmen, and Guardsmen lie beneath the cold white granite. Their battles are long, long over, even if the war still rages on.
They, all of them, came when called and did their duty and no one can ask any more of them.
For them, for all of them, for those who have fallen or will fall in this lousy war, and for all those who have fallen in all the conflicts we’ve fought lo these many years, today raise a glass and give a nod towards the flag.
Remember them, if only for a moment.
Then enjoy your day, because that’s why they do what they do.
Lawrence Eagleburger was asked a simple question when Dubya was in the White House. Eagleburger is a neo-con of the first order and a despicable human,as far as I’m concerned. He was asked what happens if we don’t find WMDs in Iraq and he answered we would have egg on our faces. That was it. For Memorial Day we have to explain to those who made the ultimate sacrifice for Bush and Cheney,we have egg on our faces and that is why you were forced to throw away your life.I visited the Family burial plot yesterday and I could not find any words to say to my Dad and brother who were vets. When the emotion dies down in me I will go back beg forgiveness for what I couldn’t say. That is ever the way,the things that should be said when they matter.
Thank you for your service, Jim, and Jim’s family, both then and now.
Here’s to earth attaining the goal of war: peace.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k5JkHBC5lDs
Jim, your post exactly sets the right tone for the way Memorial Day should be observed. Thank you so much.
My husband’s great-aunt Helen lost a son in WWII. He was in the Air Force and shot down somewhere in Europe. He was never found. Helen, until the day she died, always had his Air Force photo right next to her bed.
From talking with Helen, her sister Rose (hubby’s grandma) and hubby’s mom, I know that changed Helen in a very dramatic way. She was never the same. She knew he was gone, but she never had the closing. All the way up to her death, she still did not know what happened to him, or where he was.
THIS is what our sons, daughters, husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters face when they go to war. This is what their families face.
My goodness, why can’t we stop these wars? What are they good for? Do we as a country really know what we are fighting for?
I know I’m asking pie-in-the-sky questions, but really now, someone needs to ask them.
Saying a heartfelt silent prayer for those who have paid the ultimate price for our country. My fervent hope is that we have a country that is worth fighting for, in the truest sense.
Indeed – the ones who survived continue to fight the demons. They are never the same. Some manage – some don’t. War has become a business and I think we have become oblivious to the horrors. I want the day to come when the VFW is obsolete. Peace to all who have lost loved ones to war and to those who live with the consequences of surviving.
Thank you BeeEss,
I agree war has become a business. Our collective souls are screaming for this to stop. And, Jim your blog makes my day. You are a fine writer and an insightful, reflective person. Please don’t stop writing.
Thank you Jim.
I appreciated your other posts about Memorial Day on your own site too.
This one is a tough one for me on so many levels I sometimes wish I could just forget it all and eat BBQ, drink beer, and sleep most of it away.
A number of years ago I stood here with my son who attended Oberlin college:
http://www.oberlin.edu/external/EOG/CivilWarTour/Stop7.html
and we read the names of the dead to each other
In that small town, with farm fields so close by, 3000 miles from my own home, I cried for wives and mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers who laid their loved ones in the cold ground across so many generations.
I cried for the grandmothers and grandfathers who so hoped ‘this would be the last time’
I cried for all who died in their missions, right or wrong, to protect, defend, save…
My son’s voice stayed steady and firm, mine got pretty raspy what with all the flap I felt, but we said every one right out loud.
That day, for a very few moments , I understood where and at what my father and uncles, all veterans, looked when we gathered together under a 21 gun salute as they stood slightly apart from the rest of us. They were looking at their own list and quietly reading it across WWI, WWII, Korea, and on those days we gathered, Viet Nam.
Beautiful.
Thank you for keeping this day in perspective. I wish this could be read far beyond the Mudflats.
I hope everyone has noticed those fancy new buttons up there. Our webmaster Snoskred has added ways that you can “like” the post on Facebook, share it via email, Twitter and others. There are buttons at the top and bottom of the post. Check it out and start using them!
Wait… there’s something beyond the Mudflats?
🙂
I grew up overseas so never had an opportunity to ‘experience’ Memorial Day with my fellow citizens. Then, as a young and mid adult, beyond being exposed to it as the spouse of a member of the US Military, I never truly thought about it and all it implied. Memorial Day was what it was…and, I too –I shamefully admit– fell into the “Woo-eee, spouse gets the day off, the check I write for party fixin’s won’t get from the store to the bank until tomorrow/payday, and we can grill out with the kids and friends!” mindset. All that changed about 15-years ago when I had my ‘personal awakening’…
I was writing text for narration at a military parade and wanted to put in some fluff about the flag and some yada, yada, yada relating back to said fluff. In gathering all the information to give me a solid footing for the narrative, I looked up all sorts of facts and figures and data about both the day and the flag. Now, mind you, I’d always been proud of our flag and have always thrilled at the sight of it (possibly being raised out of country added to those feelings…I’m pretty sure they did; I’ve never taken it, or the country it represents, for granted) but I wanted to be *sure* what the narrator would be sharing –throught my words– was 100% accurate. Little did I know, though, how that ‘fluff’ I was searching out would impact me and the way I thought about Memorial Day.
See, as I discovered in my researching, the thing of it is: Memorial Day is the only day where flag etiquette calls for its flying at half-staff (half-mast aboard ship) until noon, and then calls for it to be raised to full staff until sunset. Whoa! That hit me like a ton of bricks! On this one day, on this one Memorial Day each year, we mourn out fallen Military and we carry on as they would’ve carried on! We show respect and honor to their sacrifice, but then we continue by celebrating and honoring them through flying our national symbol from full height — unfettered and free!; how incredible and beautiful is that?
So, yeah — Memorial Day to me, ever since my ‘personal awakening’, is taking stock of what I can do, because of what they did. And although the flag is flown at half-staff and then at full-staff for honor and reminder of those who’ve given their all, it’s a gigantic reminder to me to not disrespect *them* by fiddle-faddleing around! They bought and paid for this freedom and democracy I so absolutely cherish and adore; it is my duty, now, to not squander the magnificent and wondrous gift of it.
Leastwise, that’s the way I see it. beth.
Beth,
My son-in-law was killed in Iraq in 2006. He was an exceptional man, and his death was a blow to our family.
I cannot stomach the rhetoric that comes spewing from tea-party types about patriotism and “Freedom isn’t Free” bumper stickers. I am very careful about what I read and watch on weekends like this, because of all the commercial and political grandstanding. I don’t want to see ads for memorial day sales. I fail to see how a mattress sale honors my son-in-law’s memory. It is just too crass.
I do appreciate your post, and your story of awakening, and how personal you made this day. Giving honor to people that are so honorable should not be such a difficult concept. You describing your duty to remain thankful was the most beautiful tribute I have read. Thank you.
Thanks Jim. I mean it. America is broken, but it is indicative of the todays human condition, regardless of place of residence. We have more to fear today, then we did during the cold war.
Thank you for your eloquent post, Jim.
Unlike you, I was born in the fifties. It was as idyllic as you portray it, but ONLY on TV and in other mass media. Let us not forget the Korean War; those who fought in it certainly haven’t. Apart from that, the start of the cold war was very, very hot for those who fell under the spotlight of the House Unamerican Activities Commission (HUAC), and who had their careers and lives changed forever — if not entirely destroyed — by being labeled Communists or fellow travelers. Often, their only “crime” was being strongly pro-union (doesn’t that sound familiar?) and attending meetings also attended by those farther to the left.
Part of the problem of a generation for whom the very concept of peace is unfamiliar, is that the wars are not in their back yards, lending them a certain unreality. They are, as the WWI era song goes, “Over there, over there.” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Over_There Unlike the now-grown children of the era of the Irish “Troubles,” as they’re euphemistically called, who grew up with war in their streets and neighborhoods (and to this day bear the scars of that psychological trauma), we don’t have battles raging outside our own windows.
In the 1970s (I was a very political teen/twentysomething), I wondered when international terrorism, which was an on-the-ground reality throughout much of Europe, would come to our shores. Note I said when, not whether. I was home in NYC for both attacks on the WTC. An artist I met at his NYC gallery show died in the Pentagon on 9/11. I watched the collapse of the first tower from my rooftop on that gorgeous, late summer morning.
I work tirelessly for peace. I am no longer anti-war, I am pro-peace. To that end, I help people reclaim their health, because healthy people do not make war, do not steal, do not covet, etc. I look forward to a world — in this life or the next — when there are no more combat veterans, because there is no more combat. We have many problems here on earth, and until we put all our energies toward solving them, the human race is living under a sword of Damocles. Unless we treat life as a gift, as something precious, we will, I fear, continue to waste it. Health and peace.
“Part of the problem of a generation for whom the very concept of peace is unfamiliar, is that the wars are not in their back yards, lending them a certain unreality.” — Zyxomma
Incredibly enough, even those who are ‘over there’ aren’t truly ‘over there’. I watch the news and I want to scream! Is it any wonder these poor children of ours come home with PTSD — the vast majority of them? The human mind was *not* built to go out on patrol, to fire at and be fired upon, to live in sheer terror for hours on end and then to Immediately switch that mode of thinking down while phoning, texting, emailing, im-ing, twittering, skyping, what-evering, home! How asinine that that is ‘allowed’ to happen! The poor young kid is neither here nor there…their mind certainly isn’t equipped to be in life-or-death battle one moment, and then to be goo-gooing their newborn, the next! Does no one see the absurdity of it?
Hell, when DH had a year-long unaccompanied tour in the late 70s, we knew he wouldn’t take leave at the 6-month period to come home — he’s admitted he’d never have gotten on the plane to return to his duty station, and I would never have let him get back on the plane to leave me and our two kids. Plain and simple, I would’ve done *anything* to stop him. I lived with my parents for the year, so I wasn’t alone, but dang! if I didn’t miss the bejeezers out of him! He was –and is!– my best friend! Our monthly phone calls were rough enough on us…and he wasn’t in combat!
Truth be told, it was always much more difficult for both of us after we’d spoken to each other — the rest of the time, we could each focus on what it was we had to do to get through the days and weeks and months; when we talked to each other, our hearts and minds were distracted and it *always* took a few days to get back into the rhythm of the reality of where we (each) were. Not a good thing! We wrote letters every other day — we coped. Most importantly, he was doing what he had been assigned to do; I was not a click-away distraction to his focus.
As I said, I watch the news and I want to scream: NO! Momma, Daddy, wife, husband, girlfriend, boyfriend, your military person does NOT need to hear from you all the time, nor do you need to hear from them! Trust me, you don’t. Please let them do what they have to do. Please be an adult and let them do the job for which they’ve been highly trained; you are a distraction to them. Please let your military person know you love and support them, but knock it off with the (constant) e-communications. Please – no more! None! Stop!
And to the military members, I want to scream: NO! Do NOT e-communicate with home; do NOT do that to your mind! beth.
–Yes, I realize there are ‘pups who swear by e-communications with their deployed loved ones, but having ‘come up’ before that was an option, and knowing how the mindset *is* altered by the mere fact of e-communicating with someone stationed overseas/unaccompanied/deployed for a tour, I truly and honestly feel it is one of the most cruel, mean, and ridiculously insane things we do to / allow to happen to our deployed kids. b.
Beautiful, Zyxomma. That’s all I can say.
Very well said. Thank you.
Jim Wright – I don’t think anyone has stated what Memorial Day is and should be until you have written this. I hope it goes to many more places. Thank you.
Thank you, Jim Wright.
You are so eloquent.
You make me proud to be an Alaskan.