Memorial Day is More Than a BBQ

Today is a day I must stand up and shout.....Memorial Day is more than a BBQ!!!!!!!!  It is so much more than that....and the history of it is being forgotten.  "Memorial Day, originally called Decoration Day, is a day of remembrance for those who have died in our nation's service. There are many stories as to its actual beginnings, with over two dozen cities and towns laying claim to being the birthplace of Memorial Day. There is also evidence that organized women's groups in the South were decorating graves before the end of the Civil War: a hymn published in 1867, "Kneel Where Our Loves are Sleeping" by Nella L. Sweet carried the dedication "To The Ladies of the South who are Decorating the Graves of the Confederate Dead" (Source: Duke University's Historic American Sheet Music, 1850-1920). While Waterloo N.Y. was officially declared the birthplace of Memorial Day by President Lyndon Johnson in May 1966, it's difficult to prove conclusively the origins of the day. It is more likely that it had many separate beginnings; each of those towns and every planned or spontaneous gathering of people to honor the war dead in the 1860's tapped into the general human need to honor our dead, each contributed honorably to the growing movement that culminated in Gen Logan giving his official proclamation in 1868. It is not important who was the very first, what is important is that Memorial Day was established. Memorial Day is not about division. It is about reconciliation; it is about coming together to honor those who gave their all. Memorial Day was officially proclaimed on 5 May 1868 by General John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, in his General Order No. 11, and was first observed on 30 May 1868, when flowers were placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery. The first state to officially recognize the holiday was New York in 1873. By 1890 it was recognized by all of the northern states. The South refused to acknowledge the day, honoring their dead on separate days until after World War I (when the holiday changed from honoring just those who died fighting in the Civil War to honoring Americans who died fighting in any war). It is now celebrated in almost every State on the last Monday in May (passed by Congress with the National Holiday Act of 1971 (P.L. 90 - 363) to ensure a three day weekend for Federal holidays), though several southern states have an additional separate day for honoring the Confederate war dead: January 19 in Texas, April 26 in Alabama, Florida, Georgia, and Mississippi; May 10 in South Carolina; and June 3 (Jefferson Davis' birthday) in Louisiana and Tennessee. 

In 1915, inspired by the poem "In Flanders Fields," Moina Michael replied with her own poem:

We cherish too, the Poppy red That grows on fields where valor led, It seems to signal to the skies That blood of heroes never dies.

She then conceived of an idea to wear red poppies on Memorial day in honor of those who died serving the nation during war. She was the first to wear one, and sold poppies to her friends and co-workers with the money going to benefit servicemen in need. Later a Madam Guerin from France was visiting the United States and learned of this new custom started by Ms.Michael and when she returned to France, made artificial red poppies to raise money for war orphaned children and widowed women. This tradition spread to other countries. In 1921, the Franco-American Children's League sold poppies nationally to benefit war orphans of France and Belgium. The League disbanded a year later and Madam Guerin approached the VFW for help. Shortly before Memorial Day in 1922 the VFW became the first veterans' organization to nationally sell poppies. Two years later their "Buddy" Poppy program was selling artificial poppies made by disabled veterans. In 1948 the US Post Office honored Ms Michael for her role in founding the National Poppy movement by issuing a red 3 cent postage stamp with her likeness on it. Traditional observance of Memorial day has diminished over the years. Many Americans nowadays have forgotten the meaning and traditions of Memorial Day. At many cemeteries, the graves of the fallen are increasingly ignored, neglected. Most people no longer remember the proper flag etiquette for the day.

While there are towns and cities that still hold Memorial Day parades, many have not held a parade in decades. Some people think the day is for honoring any and all dead, and not just those fallen in service to our country. There are a few notable exceptions. Since the late 50's on the Thursday before Memorial Day, the 1,200 soldiers of the 3d U.S. Infantry place small American flags at each of the more than 260,000 gravestones at Arlington National Cemetery. They then patrol 24 hours a day during the weekend to ensure that each flag remains standing. In 1951, the Boy Scouts and Cub Scouts of St. Louis began placing flags on the 150,000 graves at Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery as an annual Good Turn, a practice that continues to this day. More recently, beginning in 1998, on the Saturday before the observed day for Memorial Day, the Boys Scouts and Girl Scouts place a candle at each of approximately 15,300 grave sites of soldiers buried at Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania National Military Park on Marye's Heights (the Luminaria Program). And in 2004, Washington D.C. held its first Memorial Day parade in over 60 years. To help re-educate and remind Americans of the true meaning of Memorial Day, the "National Moment of Remembrance" resolution was passed on Dec 2000 which asks that at 3 p.m. local time, for all Americans "To voluntarily and informally observe in their own way a Moment of remembrance and respect, pausing from whatever they are doing for a moment of silence or listening to 'Taps." The Moment of Remembrance is a step in the right direction to returning the meaning back to the day. What is needed is a full return to the original day of observance. Set aside one day out of the year for the nation to get together to remember, reflect and honor those who have given their all in service to their country.  But what may be needed to return the solemn, and even sacred, spirit back to Memorial Day is for a return to its traditional day of observance. Many feel that when Congress made the day into a three-day weekend in with the National Holiday Act of 1971, it made it all the easier for people to be distracted from the spirit and meaning of the day. As the VFW stated in its 2002 Memorial Day address: "Changing the date merely to create three-day weekends has undermined the very meaning of the day. No doubt, this has contributed greatly to the general public's nonchalant observance of Memorial Day."  

My father fought in WWII in the Pacific Theater.  My husband in Vietnam and father-in-law in Vietnam and Korea. 

I have countless family members and dear friends who fought in Korea, WWII, WWI, Vietnam....some came home.....others did not.  My son-in-law,  nephew, countless former students, and friends are currently active.  I thank you for what you do....for the choice you made....so I can sleep safely at night.  To those of you out in blogger land if you ever get a chance to go on a trip of a lifetime....go to Washington D.C and see all of these great memorials....GO!  You have to walk them, touch them, watch the people there....I promise....it will touch you in a way nothing else will ever touch you.  God Bless America!

Some Gave All

We had our Memorial Day tribute at church yesterday.  Kat and Brian came from Montgomery to attend church with us and cookout afterwards.  I sang, "God Bless the U.S.A."...and am not bragging....but I think it is one of the best songs I do.  It has a special significance to me too....you see, Frank proposed to me after I sang it on July 4th, 2002.  Sorry, I digressed a bit there....let me tell you a little bit about the day that you may or may not already know.  I have to admit that I did NOT know all these facts.  "Memorial Day, originally called Decoration Day, is a day of remembrance for those who have died in our nation's service. There are many stories as to its actual beginnings, with over two dozen cities and towns laying claim to being the birthplace of Memorial Day. There is also evidence that organized women's groups in the South were decorating graves before the end of the Civil War: a hymn published in 1867, "Kneel Where Our Loves are Sleeping" by Nella L. Sweet carried the dedication "To The Ladies of the South who are Decorating the Graves of the Confederate Dead" (Source: Duke University's Historic American Sheet Music, 1850-1920). "Memorial Day was officially proclaimed on 5 May 1868 by General John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, in his General Order No. 11, and was first observed on 30 May 1868, when flowers were placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery. The first state to officially recognize the holiday was New York in 1873. By 1890 it was recognized by all of the northern states. The South refused to acknowledge the day, honoring their dead on separate days until after World War I (when the holiday changed from honoring just those who died fighting in the Civil War to honoring Americans who died fighting in any war). It is now celebrated in almost every State on the last Monday in May (passed by Congress with the National Holiday Act of 1971 (P.L. 90 - 363) to ensure a three day weekend for Federal holidays), though several southern states have an additional separate day for honoring the Confederate war dead: January 19 in Texas, April 26 in Alabama, Florida, Georgia, and Mississippi; May 10 in South Carolina; and June 3 (Jefferson Davis' birthday) in Louisiana and Tennessee. In 1915, inspired by the poem "In Flanders Fields," Moina Michael replied with her own poem:

We cherish too, the Poppy red

That grows on fields where valor led,

It seems to signal to the skies

That blood of heroes never dies.

She then conceived of an idea to wear red poppies on Memorial day in honor of those who died serving the nation during war. She was the first to wear one, and sold poppies to her friends and co-workers with the money going to benefit servicemen in need. Later a Madam Guerin from France was visiting the United States and learned of this new custom started by Ms.Michael and when she returned to France, made artificial red poppies to raise money for war orphaned children and widowed women. This tradition spread to other countries. In 1921, the Franco-American Children's League sold poppies nationally to benefit war orphans of France and Belgium. The League disbanded a year later and Madam Guerin approached the VFW for help. Shortly before Memorial Day in 1922 the VFW became the first veterans' organization to nationally sell poppies. Two years later their "Buddy" Poppy program was selling artificial poppies made by disabled veterans. In 1948 the US Post Office honored Ms Michael for her role in founding the National Poppy movement by issuing a red 3 cent postage stamp with her likeness on it."   I think what saddens me about this holiday is that the traditional observance of Memorial day seems to have dimmed greatly over the years. Many Americans, especially the young ones, either don't know or have forgotten the "real" meaning and traditions of Memorial Day. I was pleasantly surprised when on the news over the weekend I saw a military cemetary in the Atlanta area being adorned with miniature flags by the Boys Scouts and Girl Scouts.  It was such a tender vision....watching them quietly place each flag just so....and salute it.  But that was one....At many cemeteries, the graves of the fallen are increasingly ignored, neglected. Most people no longer remember the proper flag etiquette for the day. While there are towns and cities that still hold Memorial Day parades, many have not held a parade in decades. Some people think the day is for honoring any and all dead, and not just those fallen in service to our country. They are wrong!  This is a very special day for the ones who gave all...I have sung in Andersonville, GA and been very moved by the small flags flying in the Confederate cemetary there.  I have walked through Arlington many times and cried from my first step.  Walked by the Vietnam and Korean monuments and felt the souls of the fallen and missing crying out to me. I wear a POW/MIA bracelet for CDR. William Arnold who has been missing since November of 1966.  I put this bracelet on in 1968.  He was a young navy pilot who did his duty and it cost him his life in Vietnam.  I have a long history of family who have served....My great-great grandfather fought in the War of 1812, my great grandfather was at the Battle Above the Clouds at Lookout Mtn. during the Civil War, My grandfather fought in WWI, my dad and his brothers were in WWII, my uncles and cousins were in Korea, my husband and a number of my cousins were in Vietnam, and I have a son-in-law, cousins and former students who have all fought in Iraq, Afghanistan, whereever they were needed.  Some gave all.....My first student funeral was during Desert Storm.  I hate the sound of TAPS to this day.  He was just a kid.  So when you all sit down today for your family BBQ remember what today is about, say a prayer for those who gave all....and for their families, remember who this day honors, and be greatful for the freedoms we have today because....Some gave all.

Freedom Isn't Free Is It?

I attended a Memorial Day service at a local graveyard in Waverly, AL today….where the names of all the fallen were read….and the children placed flags on each and every grave. It was very emotional time for me. My husband read a poem called “Freedom isn’t Free.” I found the poem so very moving. The only thing missing from this presentation in the cemetery was the playing of Taps. I must say I am glad that was the way it was because there is something about the sound of Taps that literally rips me off the frame. Every time I hear the tune I cannot stop from crying. It is a song that hurts my very soul. I came home from Waverly and began seaching the web to find that poem so I could share it with you in my post today. The poem was written by a student! I hope this young person’s views of freedom touch your heart today….and make you thank every veteran, firefighter, police officer for what they do for us each day and remember that Freedom always comes at a cost.

Freedom Isn’t Free
By Cadet Major Kelly Strong USAF JROTC
I watched the flag pass by one day.
It fluttered in the breeze.
A young Marine saluted it,
And then he stood at ease.
I looked at him in uniform
So young, so tall, so proud,
With hair cut square and eyes alert
He'd stand out in any crowd.
I thought how many men like him
Had fallen through the years.
How many died on foreign soil?
How many mothers' tears?
How many pilots' planes shot down?
How many died at sea?
How many foxholes were soldiers' graves?
No, freedom isn't free.

I heard the sound of taps one night,
When everything was still
I listened to the bugler play
And felt a sudden chill.
I wondered just how many times
That taps had meant "Amen,"
When a flag had draped a coffin
Of a brother or a friend.
I thought of all the children,
Of the mothers and the wives,
Of fathers, sons and husbands
With interrupted lives.
I thought about a graveyard
At the bottom of the sea
Of unmarked graves in Arlington.
No, freedom isn't free.

For the past 9 days in Riverside, CA, volunteers have been reading the names of all the veterans who are buried in the cemetery there. Nine days….24 hours a day. How awesome is that? People who care enough to give up some time to read names out loud….for men and women who gave up their lives so we could be free….so they won’t be forgotten. I personally would hope that in between your barbeques and picnics that all of us would take a few moments to remember and honor such souls and to give thanks for the freedoms and spiritual gifts which they have afforded us and which we as a people so often take for granted. I want to give my personal thanks to every veteran and enlisted person….right now….for all they have done….and will continue to do. I love my freedom. Thanks for giving me this great gift!

A Kat Tale Part I

Ok, while I am on my woeful journey I thought I would share another story I wrote about my daughter....It happened one Memorial Day Weekend. I have actually got this one in the works for publishing....so I am going to do it in parts. Todays segment....is the beginning of a long road back. Sit back and relax. You are in for a long haul.

The telephone rang in the car and Dale answered it, "Ronnie, it's Eric, for you," he called out in his thick New Jersey accent. I felt a cold chill grab at my heart. Ronnie came in with a twisted look on his face and told me to get my purse and go for a ride with him. I did as I was told. I knew better than to argue. His face told me that this was not going to be a pleasure ride. The car flew past the familiar and I finally asked the question I did not want the answer to. "How bad is it?" My shakey voice was deliberate, yet emotion-filled and then he replied, "there was an explosion." "Are they alive?" My husbands response to my question caused me to grasp for my next breaths...."I don't know."

I closed my eyes as we crossed the river bridge and began praying for strength, grace, and a miracle. We squealed into the Emergency Room parking lot and my son Eric, met me, held me, and told me to be strong. I was confused yet drew strength from my son's arms and tears. I entered the ER Treatment Room and felt my knees buckle when confronted by the sight and smell that met me. My youngest daughter, Kathryn, had taken the full impact of the explosion. My child, my heart, lay face down on an emergency room table and her legs......her beautiful legs grotesquely stared at me as I entered the door. The smell of burnt flesh and hair penetrated my brain and the nurse softly shoved me past the legs to the face of a terrified little girl. I had seen this face before when storms had awakened her in the middle of the night and she would seek refuge in the comfort of our bed. I smiled a watery smile into the eyes of this being that I had brought into this world nearly fourteen years ago. She knew it was bad. I knew it was bad. We knew we would have to trust each other.

Leaning down close to her ear I whispered an emotional, "I love you Munchkin" and then the nurse told me I would have to leave so they could work. Outside, in the hallway I searched for my son, his fiancee, my niece, and the two of her friends that were on the boat with Kathryn. They were all hurt. Ugly blisters and angry red patches popped up everywhere and terror filled each little face. We all clung together and waited for news of Kathryn. My pain-filled prayers went up with every breath I took and finally a pleasant numbness clouded my mind.

Everyone I knew was out of town for Memorial Day and I needed prayer power fast, so mustering up what little sanity I had left I called my deacon, David Patterson. The conversation between us was short, and incoherent on my part, yet relieved that prayers had begun, I hung up the reciever. David called the pastor after we ended our call, and both men raced against time to get to the ER.

The nurse came out and told me that Kathryn was asking for me and I could go in and be with her, but I had to be strong. I entered the putrid smelling room once again, rushed straight to Kathryn's head, and began praying over her silently. She reached out and grabbed my hand. I brushed twigs from her hair with my hands. The nurse and doctor worked on. We both grieved in silence.

The nurse and doctor told us what we could expect, equipped us with bandages, medication, and ointments, and with wrapped legs, sent us home with orders to return the next morning. The next 16 hours would be critical for us all, but especially for Kathryn. She would have to be completely bed-bound for the next sixteen hours or swelling could set in and cause the healing process to be hindered. "She might not walk again." the last words the doctor said to me would play over and over in my head all night long.

Rev. Stoner and David helped us transport the six injured ones home. Food and medications were picked up by church members who appeared out of nowhere. The congregation of Wayside Baptist definitely showed us the definition of stewardship and Christian love. People popped in and out all evening and five of the six relived the tale several times, called out-of-state parents, and cried. We all cried - outwardly. Kathryn, bless her heart, slept. Her crying was done in the form of moans that escaped from her morphine-induced nightmares.

Stay tuned for Part II