Memorial Day 2005

I get lots of junk mail. I look at all of it, throwing most of it away. A few years ago something caught my eye. It was a brochure about building a memorial in Washington D.C. on the mall for veterans of WWII. Amazingly, with all the memorials there, there was none to those who fought and won the biggest, most horrible war in history. My Dad served on a submarine in the Pacific and my uncle on a transport hospital ship in the Atlantic. My mom sang to wounded troops in hospitals near Walla Walla, Washington and her and her family had soldiers over for dinner if they met them on the street! She wrote these guys after they shipped out and I have letters they wrote back, one from a foxhole in Guadalcanal. All that went through my mind that day as I reached for the checkbook and made a modest donation. Yes, it was time to truly honor my parent's generation.

Last year, I received an invitation to attend the dedication of the memorial as a charter donor. I began to think and pray about it and last year at this time I found myself on the National Mall, listening to President Bush, Tom Hanks, Tom Brokaw and others as they dedicated an awesome structure, made of towers and fountains , with the Washington Monument towering behind and the Lincoln Memorial respectfully watching in the distance. I was there to honor my father, my uncle and my mother and all those who died and fought so I and my children could have the life we now have. I watched with pride and tears in my eyes as the old veterans, most in their 80's, wandered around and took it all in. There was a guy with a Pearl Harbor hat, another showing the insignia of P-47 pilot (one of my favorite planes as a kid.) Most had their families with them, grandchildren in tow. I saw two old sailors jump to attention and salute a modern day officer in dress whites, half their age. He returned their salute smartly and they all grinned.

It truly was a day of celebration and I was so glad I was there. But I wanted to help, do something to be a part of it. I had prayed for God to give me some small way to honor these men and women, but how? And then I saw it. All these families wanted a picture with their veteran, but someone had to step out and take it. So I offered and was met by one delighted "thank you" after another. Later I helped these elderly heroes figure out the computer terminals where you can see their records (families put them on at wwiimemorial.com) One old sailor thanked me after I helped him get his camcorder working. I asked him where he served. A tear came to his eye as he told me of his experience on a destroyer off Okinawa. Many of his shipmates were killed , and he was so glad they were being honored this way. Incredible. I shook his hand and walked away before he could see the tear in my eye!

Tomorrow is Memorial Day. Some years I ago, I started a tradition with my kids. We go to the local cemetary and look for flags on the graves of Veterans (I think the Boy Souts put them there) We bring flowers and lay them on the graves without them, forgotten for some reason. We read the headstones and remember the great sacrifice they and their families made, so we could stand in the sunshine, free. I will hug my children and we will pray, thanking God for men and women brave enough to die for us. And one day, I hope, they will go to Washington DC, perhaps with their own children, and look up their grandpa and grandpa and uncle on the computer terminals....and say a quiet " thank you."