A Holiday I Love, From a Holiday Hater

Memorial Day is soon upon us. The three-day weekend that ushers in summer fun… or so it is celebrated.

What is Memorial Day, and why do I love it so?

Memorial Day got started after the Civil War, a war so bloody that it affected every community in every state with unfathomable loss. Grieving widows and children of fallen soldiers would take a day to visit the graves of the men who so bravely served and gave their lives so that this great nation could continue in its grandeur.

Then one day in Waterloo, shops closed down to allow its residents to visit the graves of their fallen family members who fought and died in the war. The tradition spread, and soon became a nationwide observance.

For a time, the South rebelled at what they saw as an observance of Union soldiers. The South countered with observances of their own to honor the Confederate fallen, as they should. All wars have heroes on both sides, and each should be honored as such. A true soldier serves to honor himself in the service of his country, and respects his enemy for doing the same. And when he kills his enemy counterpart, a true soldier honors the enemy soldier for his bravery, courage, and willingness to serve in a time when the willing are so few.

So this Memorial Day I take a few moments – and call upon all Americans to do the same – to say to all fallen soldiers who served with courage, distinction, and most importantly honor, may God forever bless you for your service. I shall always remember your sacrifice.

6 thoughts on “A Holiday I Love, From a Holiday Hater

  1. Stu

    I’m not real big on symbolism, and I generally disobey the “rules” set forth for flying the flag (for example, I fly it in bad weather. Our servicemen fight in bad weather. I think a colored piece of cloth can handle it just as well.)

    But I woke up Monday morning and saw the flag over at the church across the street flying at full mast. I think the local Boy Scout Troop is responsible for the flag, so I gave them a couple hours to correct the situation.

    When nothing happened, I walked over there and lowered the flag to half mast myself.

    My Bishop, a Vietnam vet (who was in school and married when he got drafted, and easily could have gotten out of serving), caught me in the act. I asked him, “You don’t mind do you?”

    “It’s beautiful,” he said. “Very appropriate.”

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