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Standing on the Town green with a few hundred people last week I had a feeling of loss come over me. No one had died in my family in a War recently, not anyone in our town. We all stood there among the "coffin" flags that each represented a family in town who had lost someone from wars past or present. Brief speeches by a few Veterans and other officials sealed the day, and as the last song was played by the high school band. We just sort of dispersed back to our homes for cookouts and yard games. It seemed so moving in such a simple way. In contrast to the upcoming big celebrations for D-Day and the 4th of July. No fireworks, no grim battle scene photos or old news reels brought out again.
The short but festive parade down Main St., the pulsing drum beats from the two marching bands, and seeing my young daughter march for the first time left me feeling upbeat and playful. Then the ceremonies began with more solemn tones, as it should, and I began to feel lost. Like I'd never been here before. Like Memorial Day had been taken from me years ago. The coffin flags drew the crowd in closer.
In my father's generation, all the men in my family served in WWII or Korea. All did well and in our family only one died. My father didn't like to talk about his experience as a "Hump" pilot flying over the Himalayas where thirty percent of the flights ended badly due to weather and enemy fire. He won all the awards and medals that an Airman could, yet, had nothing to say about it really. He preferred talking about the times on leave when he could travel around India, away from the fighting. I don't remember him or anyone else making a big deal out of Memorial Day. Why not, I thought last week on the Town green, so many of them died.
My generation had Viet Nam. A lost, cursed war with chaos at home and abroad. We battled the "enemy" and we battled each other for many years as the war dragged on. The dead and wounded and traumatized left dangling out on a limb, pushed away from glory, and misunderstood for years to come.
In that time we had Memorial Day celebrations just like today, but they felt torn and awkward just like the war raging across the ocean. No Heroes welcome, no "Semper Fi"cheers, no "When Johnny comes Marching Home again, hoorah hoorah!", no monuments or memorials. It took us years to figure out how to thank the soldiers who were just doing what they were asked to do. They were not fighting a political war, they were just fighting a war.
My baby boomer generation lost something during Viet Nam that is only just coming back to us now. We can still honor the individual men and women who choose to serve in the military, and sometimes fight wars we may not like or support. For whatever personal reasons they may have, our soldiers make the choice to serve.
I have a son who made this choice four years ago. He's doing just fine, thank you. When he made this decision I knew it was a good one for him. I don't ever want to be at a Memorial Day event for him. Please, no. Yet he has friends who've been killed or injured. He's seen the good and bad side to life in the military. He's just doing the jobs he's been trained to do. Risk and danger come with the territory.
Politicians play their rhetorical games, but they also make the big decisions that lead to Memorial days all over our country. We all benefit and we all lose at the same time. These freedoms we cherish come at a cost.
As I thought of my father and my son last week while standing on the Town green watching the coffin flags shift in the breeze, I felt some of the loss those families know, I felt the risk, I felt the pride, and I felt thankful that a small town parade could give me back Memorial Day.
Rob Neal lives in Maine, grew up in Atlanta and has published numerous Op-eds and articles on community, social, and business issues. Over thirty five years he has worked as a Psychotherapist, Organizational Development Consultant, Leadership Coach, Fund Raiser, Non-profit leader, and now focuses on his new venture Building Whole Men, training, coaching, and mentoring young adult men ages 17-35. He is married with three children (25, 22, 10) and enjoys playing the guitar and piano, exercising in various ways, being part of his small town and Church communities, and is a serious news and political junkie.
What an awesome article inspired by standing on the town green on Memorial Day ~ great sentiments throughout and I couldn't think of a better occasion to celebrate with pride. Blessings! Suz
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