Memorial Day

Memorial Day, or Decoration Day, was a big deal with my family back in the 1950’s. It celebrated the memory of those who had given their lives for America. There were parades that led to the national cemetery, 21 gun salutes, speeches, readings of the Gettysburg Address, wearing little paper poppies sold by WWI veterans, and decorating graves. Flowers and flags adorned the final resting place not only of those who had served but of other members of our families as well. My mother always planted flowers in the urns at my little sister’s grave. We went to school from the day after Labor Day to the weekday before May 30. The significance of Memorial Day was never lost on kids. It was very important.

We learned about the importance of sacrifice as Memorial Day approached. Boys and girls would resume asking questions of their parents from The Greatest Generation. What did you do in the war Daddy? We were usually told little more than basics. They didn't want to scare us. We also asked about ancestors who might have actually served in The Civil War. There were stories to hear. I remember being proud that I had a 3x great grandfather and several great grand uncles who were union soldiers. One of my grandfather Joneses brothers was wounded at Gettysburg.  Ironically one of his mother's brothers (Daniel Reynolds) was a General for the Confederate Army. We were proud of him too.  Families were so divided.  There were actually pictures of some of them in full uniform. How cool was that?

Lawrence Dye (GAR)

We have lost the full impact of Memorial Day. Kids don’t have to recite “In Flanders Field” anymore. There are no leagues of men who don Lincoln beards and stove pipe hats going from school to school to present his famous speech. There are still flags placed at every grave in Arlington and the President pays his respects at the tomb of the unknown. It is the local flair that is diminished or gone entirely. For many it is just another Monday off and a nice long weekend.

General Daniel Reynolds (CSA)

Corp. William P. Jones (GAR)

For what were these men so willing to postpone their pursuit of happiness and even give up life itself? Certainly the foundations of our beliefs were at the core of their sacrifice. The Constitution, Bill of Rights and Declaration of Independence had been taught to them with great fervor by both teachers and parents. There were no short cuts when it came to memorizing and understanding their contents. They heard over-and-over again of all that had been surrendered by their forefathers to make the principles of liberty a reality. But there was more than that at stake. Our way of life was worth defending. The farms and hometowns, mothers and dads, brothers and sisters at home were precious and worth protecting with everything that they had to give. Abstract concepts, moral duty, and loved ones so dear were represented by their simple flag of stars and stripes. Nothing was more important. The horror and tragedy of war and scars that it left behind were all worth it. The possibility of death was worth it.  It is happening even today as our young men and women go off to the Middle East for us. These things we should always honor and remember. Every time we become willing to give up a freedom in deference to security we should remember. Every time we lose faith in our government and her elected representatives we should remember. Every time we see a flag flying at half mast we should remember.

I want to always remember.  So I am personalizing Memorial Day this year in old photographs. The first picture above is of Lawrence Dye, my 3x great grandfather. In the middle is Uncle Dan Reynolds followed by Uncle Will Jones (Gettysburg).  The ones below are of Ken Jones, my World War II Dad and of my Father-In-Law Roland Hallead. They are heroes that should not be forgotten.  Thanks for your service. You and your comrades are loved and remembered.

Kenneth R Jones

Roland L. Hallead

                       

Here is “In Flanders Field” the WWI poem by John McRae (1915). Let’s celebrate Memorial Day with great reverence this year.

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.