Monday, May 26th, is Memorial Day, a federal holiday set aside as a day of remembrance for all those who have made the supreme sacrifice in service to their country. Originally called Decoration Day, Memorial Day began as a day to honor Union and Confederate dead from the Civil Way by decorating their graves. The day was later expanded to honor the dead from World War I, then World War II and, ultimately, all wars.

Toady, with all of the backyard barbecues, sales, vacations, baseball games, NASCAR races, etc., it's difficult to remind ourselves that this is supposed to be a day of remembrance. This should be a time of quiet reflection, when we remember the brave young men & women who gave up their lives, both literally and figuratively, when their country called. These young men & women came from all walks of life, rich & poor, from all races, creeds, national origins, religious & sexual preferences, many of them illiterate & uneducated, some of them with college degrees. A noble few gave up high-powered careers, or put their lives AND their careers on the line when duty called. They all had one thing in common, though, a belief in the ideals that made this nation great.

For the record, I never served. I was too young for Vietnam, too old for the Persion Gulf. I suspect, were I of a certain age, I'd not elect to join & serve in today's military. Nonetheless, my grandfather emigrated from Canada & enlisted in the Maine National Guard in 1918; he was mustered out in 1919 after taking a German shell fragment to the hip in France. His Purple Heart hangs on the wall in his eldest son's living room to this day. Two of my nephews served a combined three tours of duty as marines in Vietnam; a third nephew served with Air Force Intelligence during the first Gulf War. I've known dozens of veterans in the course of my life, many of them combat veterans; one of my best friends in college left most of his right leg behind during the Tet Offensive. I've never known a combat veteran who would speak openly, let alone brag, about his experience. It's easy to stand on a street corner and watch a parade. It takes no act of courage to slap a yellow ribbon magnet made in China on the back of your SUV. It takes no effort or commitment to stand with quiet respect as gray-haired men in funny caps walk past. Have you noticed that there seems to be fewer of these men every year? These men & women made a commitment that few of us, if we were to look deep inside ourselves, have the stomach for. I have the deepest respect for these folks and for their commitment to the ideals that made this nation great.

So please, when you put those burgers & dogs on the grill Monday, when the potato salad gets passed around the picnic table, when you're cheering your favorite team, when you tee up that first golf ball & light that first cigar, when you pop the top off that first beer, raise your bottle or glass, tip your cap, lift your cigar, and say a quiet "thank you" to those who gave everything. If you see a veteran this Monday, shake his/her hand and thank them for their service. Whether you agree with current military policy or not, remember that someone somewhere gave his/her life so that you could express that view. . .

"IN Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below. 5

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe: 10
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields."
--John McCrae, 1872-1918

Thanks. . .dad. . .