“See, I had this
theory once. I believed in the politics
of Saturday night. I rated all
governments and countries by how good or bad their Saturday nights were. And I knew that Moscow and Peking had to be a
stone drag at that time of the week. So
I was flying for a cause. I was fighting
to defend chicken barbecues, and weenie roasts, and Ray Charles songs, and
drinking Southern Comfort ‘till you passed out behind the bar.”
—Mel Gibson as Gene Ryack in Air
America
This is Memorial Day weekend. There will be baseball games, backyard
cookouts, and fireworks displays. Somewhere
in the Heartland we’ll burn thousands of gallons of gasoline and release untold
volumes of greenhouse gases in an effort to see who can make 800 left turns in
the shortest amount of time without crashing.
Then down South we’ll do it again, only with twice as many turns and
cars that aren’t nearly as sexy. We’ll
fish, play golf, get sunburned, eat way too much processed meat, and drink vast
amounts of beer.
Yes, we’ll have a grand old time of it.
I don’t begrudge anyone a three-day weekend, and I’m all for
just about any excuse to drink beer. But
amidst all the revelry, we tend to lose sight of what Memorial Day is.
Memorial Day has its roots in the aftermath of the Civil War;
its 625,000 dead accounted for over 90% of all American war dead to that point
in our history. As a way of coping with
the enormity of that loss, various cities around the country began holding
annual observances to remember their local war dead. While the Southerner in me would like to
denounce the practice as a Yankee abomination, the truth is that these
observances were widespread in both the North and the South, and honored both
Union and Confederate dead. These
various local traditions gradually consolidated into a single observance on May
30, a date chosen precisely because it did not coincide with the anniversary of
any major battle, and thus could be separated from any kind of victor’s
celebration and thus its core purpose preserved. And over time the day has expanded from a
Civil War remembrance to a time to commemorate all of our war dead.
Congress, in its infinite wisdom, included Memorial Day in
the Uniform Holiday Act of 1968, officially moving Memorial Day from May 30 to
the last Monday in May, thus creating the three-day weekend now familiar to us
all. But in so doing, the day—I won’t
call it a “holiday,” because it isn’t holy or religious, and strictly speaking
it isn’t (or shouldn’t be) a celebration—came unmoored from its original intent. Hence, our present day lack of focus.
Memorial Day is the day on which we honor the sacrifice of
those who gave it all for the cause of freedom and the defense of this
country. According to
MilitaryFactory.com, approximately 1,319,475 men and women—a little over 5,500
every single year since 1776—have paid that price over the course of our
history. You may disagree all you want
with the policymakers who sent them into battle, but you should not let that
disagreement distract you from remembering and honoring them—they paid the bill
for you to have that right to disagree.
By all means, tap that keg and pass the burgers. But let’s remember why we’re here this
weekend, and make sure your kids know why, too.
I’ll let President Reagan close with some excerpts from his remarks at
the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier on Memorial Day, 1984:
Mr.
President, General, the distinguished guests here with us today, my fellow
citizens:
In
America’s cities and towns today, flags will be placed on graves in cemeteries;
public officials will speak of the sacrifice and the valor of those whose
memory we honor.
In
1863, when he dedicated a small cemetery in Pennsylvania marking a terrible collision
between the armies of North and South, Abraham Lincoln noted the swift
obscurity of such speeches. Well, we
know now that Lincoln was wrong about that particular occasion. His remarks commemorating those who gave
their ‘last full measure of devotion’ were long remembered. But since that moment at Gettysburg, few
other such addresses have become part of our national heritage—not because of
the inadequacy of the speakers, but because of the inadequacy of words.
I
have no illusions about what little I can add now to the silent testimony of
those who gave their lives willingly for their country. Words are even more feeble on this Memorial
Day, for the sight before us is that of a strong and good nation that stands in
silence and remembers those who were loved and who, in return, loved their
countrymen enough to die for them.
* * *
It’s
not just strength or courage that we need, but understanding and a measure of
wisdom as well. We must understand
enough about our world to see the value of our alliances. We must be wise enough about ourselves to
listen to our allies, to work with them, to build and strengthen the bonds
between us.
Our
understanding must also extend to potential adversaries. We must strive to speak of them not
belligerently, but firmly and frankly.
And that’s why we must never fail to note, as frequently as necessary,
the wide gulf between our codes of morality.
And that’s why we must never hesitate to acknowledge the irrefutable
difference between our view of man as master of the state and their view of man
as servant of the state. Nor must we
ever underestimate the seriousness of their aspirations to global
expansion. The risk is the very freedom
that has been so dearly won.
* * *
Winston
Churchill said of those he knew in World War II they seemed to be the only
young men who could laugh and fight at the same time. A great general in that war called them our
secret weapon, ‘just the best darn kids in the world.’ Each died for a cause he considered more
important than his own life. Well, they
didn’t volunteer to die; they volunteered to defend values for which men have
always been willing to die if need be: the values which make up what we call
‘civilization.’ And how they must have wished, in all the ugliness that war
brings, that no other generation of young men to follow would have to undergo
that same experience.
As
we honor their memory today, let us pledge that their lives, their sacrifices,
their valor shall be justified and remembered for as long as God gives life to
this nation. And let us also pledge to
do our utmost to carry out what must have been their wish: that no other
generation of young men will ever have to share their experiences and repeat
their sacrifice.
Thank you, Mr. President.
*******************************************
EDITOR'S NOTE: Thanks again for those of you who have been keeping up, and especially those of you who return comments (even those who disagree). I will be out on vacation next week, and posts may be few and far between until I return.