Memorial Day

Monday, May 30, 2011

When we were little, our mom used to take Margie and me to the Memorial Day parade!  It was so exciting anticipating the high school band, especially if we knew anyone playing!  I especially loved the way the bass drum vibrated in my chest.


Everyone had flags, Main Street was decorated patriotically with bunting and banner! It seemed like EVERYONE marched in the parade. 

There were survivors from World War I, many former soldiers from World War II, (later, Korean Conflict) and the Gold Star Mothers (those who had lost sons & daughters).  Women who had been nurses marched together. The American Legion and VFW.  There was usually a pretty girl, the Dairy Queen (see where it gets its name?), or Home Coming Queen, waving from a convertible driven by a smiling guy who probably owned it. 

Some people rode horses, kids rode bicycles with wheels decorated, and everyone wore a red paper "poppy" sold to them by a dedicated Gold Star Mother, Annie Morrow who spoke with such a brogue you'd think you were "in the old country!"

I never wanted the excitement of a parade to end. Yet we all were tired from standing in the sun, getting sunburns on faces and shoulders, and in need of ice water or lemonade when we returned home! 

After the parade, everyone went to the town park, where we heard the Gettysburg Address recited by a young orator, and two trumpet players play "Taps."


As the years went by, my sister and I marched in the Memorial Day parades as Girl Scouts ( Girl and Boy Scout troops marched). Mom was a Brownie and Girl Scout Leader for years and marched, too. No doubt those leaders felt that it was like "herding cats" to get all those little kids to march together, let alone "in step!"

(NOT our band!)

High School years, and Marge and I were marching in the band ourselves. Margie played flute and I, trombone.  Most likely we used the sheet music the band played 10 or 20 years back! Marches don't change however, and although we grumbled, I loved music and playing in the band was fun.  But we had rules: our blue ties had to be tied properly, our pants needed a crease down the front and, we ALL had to wear WHITE SOCKS and white sneakers. Of course, there was always ONE non-conformist with a compulsion to wear red socks. If we had been able to march straight and play instruments, we'd have been all set!

I attended one of my last home town Memorial Day parades with my own child, Laura, who was a year old.  Like Ricky Nelson's lyrics (from Garden Party) "It didn't look the same." Nor was it.

Things had started to change in our society, and I was getting wound up politically.   It was not that I lacked respect for soldiers, they were diligently doing their job for the Commander in Chief, yet I did not agree with our government.(The Viet Nam Song by Country Joe and The Fish) The same young men who sat in classes with me, both in high school and college were being drafted to fight an un-win-able war Viet Nam.  I feel bad that those men (and women) were left-out, ignored, and unsupported when they came home.
The Nixon administration made sure that a warped message was sent to the troops. (At that time, I thought that Nixon was "as bad as it was ever going to get.")

Memorial Day was once called "Decoration Day," when graves of soldiers were decorated with flags and flowers in the cemeteries and began in the years after the Civil War. Memorial Day became a National holiday in 1971.   The red poppies harken back to Flanders Field where soldiers were killed in Europe during WW I. These poppies, considered weeds, grew on the battlefield in spite of the ground having been torn up by soldiers and war equipment. The link tells a bit about the meaning of the red poppies.

In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army

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

May the Creator/trix of Your Understanding Bless You & Yours

on This Day of Remembering Family Members & Friends, Military or Otherwise.

May Your Hearts be Healed.

May you stand proudly and have tears in your eyes whenever the

Stars & Stripes Forever is played (as I do).