Remembering: Memorial Day

I am a firm believer that many Americans have long forgotten the real meaning behind Memorial Day. Many think it’s a day to honor and memorialize all of the dead and not those who fell protecting our country. Sacrifice. Even the tradition behind the day has fallen to the wayside. Graves are left unattended and not marked for the day. Even towns that had parades and small graveside celebrations have dwindled. “Costs.”

I try my best to remember those who should be thought of on this day, starting with my own family members. I have a long list of relatives who fought the “War to end all wars,” WWII, and the Korean War. My dad, my uncle, and Jim’s dad dedicated a part of their lives to the military service, both incidentally the US Navy. Their graves have small American flags placed to signify their service to our country.

I even know a person who died during the Vietnam War. I was in third grade and my Sunday school teacher Mrs. Brower received notification during our Sunday school time. I remember feeling frightened, and then worried about her. Her son Donald was a gifted kid who went off to war never return again. I think of him every Memorial Day. I may know more who died during this time, but he is the only one who left such an impact on me.

My flag is out, and flying in the breeze. I buy a poppy every year. I give to Veterans when I can. I like living in America. It’s honor for me to have known those who served to protect us, and ultimately sacrifice themselves for me. For all of us. For America.