Memorial Day

Today we remember, that's what a memorial is, a remembrance.

In my cedar chest, I have a treasure from my parents' lives. Medals my father won in high school because of his athletic prowess, certificates of recognition he received during World War II's nightmares in Europe. My father was a medic and a man of great courage and leadership ability during his years in the military. I marvel when I look at pictures of him in his dress uniform and in his everyday military attire. These are simply tangible mementos of his abilities and courage, and the courage of his buddies, some of whom came home and others who did not.

During the same war, his cousin Eric was a Commander in the British Navy. Sometime during that treacherous time, his leg was crushed between two battleships. He recovered and continued his military career for several more years, fighting for our strongest ally and in turn, for us.

I recall my Grandma Scott, who came to America from England during World War I, traveling on a cattle ship. Along with her came her mother and her great aunt. Talk about courage to travel 3000 miles in embattled waters, for the privilege of experiencing the opportunities and freedoms that could be found by immigrating to the United States. My Grandfather (not then married to Grandma) had already come and contributed his weaving expertise to the New England textile mills. Many British came, many Germans and Italians came, to find a better life in a new world. Most of them came through Ellis Island in New York, past the famous Statue of Liberty "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free . . ."

I remember my Mother telling of one of the horrors of war while my father was overseas. Just across the street from their duplex, was a small grocery store. Each day one or two uniformed military would enter that store, find out the location of an address they held on official U. S. Government papers, and would then walk or drive to those addresses, delivering messages of gloom, injury and death to wives or parents of loved ones serving our country. Each day my mother prayed that the knock would not come to her door. It was not only the men in uniform who suffered, but the wives and parents who waited and hoped for the war to end.

I remember Vietnam and its incredible atrocities, 9/11 and the terror on our soil, and the resulting conflict in Iraq. Memories are stories of the heart and mind, symbols of days gone by, sometimes hidden away until some stimulus from the present brings them vividly before us again. Memorial Day is such a stimulus!

On this day of remembering please recall with us the greatness of our country for which these men and women fought, the liberties they sought to defend and the leaders who were worth following. Perhaps our remembering and our prayers will reawaken sleepy pride in our land and rekindle some sort of determination to keep our country great enough to fight for and true to its founding principles and its God.