A day to remember

Each year on Memorial Day my town has a small parade, prayers of thanks are given and then the names of citizens killed in wars are read followed by the playing of taps and laying of wreaths on monuments. The largest monument is dedicated to World War I. There is a large statue of a soldier, the others are simple marble stones with names engraved. I suspect that is because WWI was the war to end all wars; town fathers should have known better.

There are few citizens left in town who knew those men from WWI, WWII, Korea or Vietnam wars having passed on themselves or long moved from the town, but that doesn’t matter. For a brief instant, these men are known again, their sacrifice recognized one more time. I have been going to this ceremony for so many years I remember some of the names and as they are read I know who is next … that’s a good thing I think.

A few years ago I stood in the cemetery above Omaha beach in Normandy, France and looked over so many white crosses it was overwhelming. Then as you look at the markers you notice most of the men were really boys, 17, 18, 19. I was seven months old when they died, but in many ways I can write this because of what they did. Was this war supposed to be the war to end all wars?

Let’s truly remember for one moment, perhaps as you read this, what all the men and women whose names appear on monuments throughout the world did for us

Thank you.

Let’s never forget