I, along with many other
people, get a bit upset that Memorial Day has lost its meaning. The first Memorial Day was organized by
ex-slaves in Charleston, SC on May 1, 1865 to recognize and honor the dead
Union forces that were killed so that they might live in freedom.
Nowadays, people tend to
confuse Memorial Day with Veterans Day, reaping platitudes on their fathers and
others who served in various wars—people who are still living and were not
killed during wartime. Memorial Day is
set aside to honor the ones killed so that we
might also live in freedom. Worse yet
are those who commercialize the day with their sales; any excuse for a
sale. This past Friday there was an ad
in one of the local papers that went:
"Pamaro
Shop Furniture Remembers Our Nation's HEROES who paid the Ultimate Sacrifice So
That We May Live Free... 40% off All Furniture in Stock..."
How tacky is that??? I don’t care what any merchant is selling, be
it furniture, mattresses, cars, or whatever…
Memorial Day is apparently a day set aside to honor all who died so that
merchants can have their damn sales!
I have a special connection
with one of those who lost his life in service to his country. My Dad’s brother, William, was killed in a
plane crash in Australia—the deadliest airplane crash in Australian
history. He was returning from R&R to
New Guinea when the B-17, which was being used as a troop transport, crashed at
Baker’s Creek in Queensland on June 14th, 1943 and I was born nine
months later on March 17th, 1944.
According to Dad, I was conceived the night they got the news of Uncle
William’s death (“the train lurched”, Dad used to joke). Dad was stationed at Ft. Lee in Petersburg,
VA. He and Mom were returning to
hometown Huntington, WV. (As an aside,
Dad was born on a train and I apparently was conceived on one, both on the
Norfolk and Western Railroad--I never made the psychic connection until now).
Anyway, we moved to the
Washington, DC area in 1954 and every Memorial Day (May 30th in
those days) Grandma and Grandpa Hilsheimer would come to our house and we’d go
to Arlington Cemetery to place flowers on William’s grave. I miss those days. I miss Grandma and Grandpa. I miss Mom and Dad. I also very much miss the time I could have
had with Uncle William…
My wish is that Memorial
Day will be recognized and revered for what it is—a day of remembrance of those
lost to the vagaries of war. May the
time come that war will be no more and that no more Memorial Days will be
needed.
