On Memorial Day

My mother, sisters, and I were fortunate. Her husband, our father, returned alive from his service in WWII and, some years later, the Korean “Police Action.” Many others, from those armed conflicts and the wars that preceded and followed them, lost husbands, fathers, brothers, friends who were defending their country. Memorial Day is the day we have chosen to publicly remember and honor them.

eagles soar

Photo by J. Harrington

Today’s Star Tribune has reprinted an editorial from 1946 that points out how we can most effectively honor our war dead not only today but year round. A history professor at Boston College, Heather Cox Richardson, in her Letters from an American, poignantly describes the significance of the premature loss of so many through the remembrance of one.

One of the ways I’ve tried to honor and remember those in my immediate and extended family who have served the country is by helping to support an organization called Project Healing Waters Fly Fishing. They are “dedicated to the physical and emotional rehabilitation of disabled active military service personnel and disabled veterans through fly fishing and associated activities including education and outings.” I can’t be sure, but I think my Dad would approve. To the best of my knowledge, he never owned a boat but he seemed to enjoy the few times we managed to go fishing together in mine. That’s something else I think about on Memorial Day.

In Flanders Fields

By John McCrae

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.

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:

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. 

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