Monthly Archives: May 2025

I wrote four days ago because it was considered by law to be Memorial Day, but only for purposes of a three-day weekend. I still go with May 30th. At the end, there is a link to Echo Taps.

There is a debt, and it is one we can repay—but more on this later. If you don’t want to read this, click the link at the end. I will write one more time within a few days, when I get it finished, about the future of Memorial Day.

Spoiler Alert: It’s not good.

The land we today call the United States can trace its beginnings to 1607 with the establishment of a small settlement called Jamestown. In my opinion, the start date can be said to be July 4, 1776. Some would place it a little over a decade later, with the adoption of the Constitution, which is the correct date.

Leading up to the Revolutionary War, there were at least seven wars during that period. From the Revolutionary War to the present, this country has fought 12 major wars, including the War on Terror, also known as the Overseas Contingency Operation, if you prefer to be technically and politically correct, even if I don’t.

But that’s only part of the history. When we consider invasions, conflicts, expeditions, Indian Wars, occupations, and incidents in addition to wars, the number exceeds 80, each involving men and women who died. Left out are the Cold War and proxy wars.

I’ve never been in the military, but I do care about it. During my lifetime, this country has been involved in 22 engagements, resulting in the loss of life. My life began during the Korean War; some call it a conflict, and it continued until the American military finally left Afghanistan.

If I say with the inauguration of President Trump in January 2025, concluding what I believe was an American proxy war, we’re at peace, but it’s a tenuous one.

Essentially, there hasn’t been peace in my lifetime, even though it was promised by Neville Chamberlain one year before the beginning of WWII, which resulted in 60,000,000 or more deaths from 1939 to 1945. Keep Chamberlain in mind because I suspect he’ll come up later. You never know; I tend to do some of this stuff off the top of my head, like stream consciousnesses.

That’s a lot of sacrifice by many people. Just how much follows shortly. The sacrifice isn’t a shared one, however. I read a great deal of history. I know, and those older than me know, that the citizenry once made sacrifices for the war effort. A good example was during World War II.

But since 1945, the American people at home haven’t been called upon to do much, with a caveat. We send soldiers off to fight and die, but how much thought do we give it, and what do we do to assist? Unfortunately, not nearly enough. The caveat is families lose their sons and daughters, but my family didn’t.

Here’s a fact I hope some find startling: Including all deaths, both combat and non-combat, more than 1.6 million people have died in battle defending an ideal born in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States.

Now, that number is like the national debt in two ways. One, the zeroes aren’t there. That number is 1,600,000. Second, it is a debt, not one of money, but one purchased with blood—not the blood of anyone reading this.

It is a debt that can be repaid, though. The families of those lost don’t get their child, sibling, spouse, or family back. But if we believe the ideal is worthy and worth the sacrifice, we repay it by living up to those beliefs and preserving our country’s freedom and liberty in memory of those who sacrificed so that we could. Think of it this way: You may not be reading this if those who died had chosen not to risk everything. More on this later.

To put it in perspective, the War Between the States resulted in 650 deaths per day for four years. In World War II, the number was about 300 per day. The War on Terror has a much lower number of deaths per day, less than two. Yet even that number carries weight.

The ultimate sacrifice has been great. If we add those who were wounded, the total is close to 3,000,000, and then some remain missing or unaccounted for. That number nearly equals the number of those who died in the Vietnam War.

As mentioned, Memorial Day was always observed on May 30 until Congress changed the date to a Monday to create a three-day weekend. Decoration Day, as it was initially known, could fall on any day of the week, but that changed decades ago to give Americans a long weekend, not to remember the dead, but for cookouts and sales, it seems. The latter is fine, provided you remember the first.

Since the law changed, it has fallen on May 30 fewer than ten times. I mean, it is a day to celebrate in a sense, though what we are celebrating are those who stared at and accepted death so that others would not have to. Think of it in terms of a celebration of life, perhaps, which seems to have replaced the more somber funeral.

As long as you remember this vital point, that others died so you may live to do these things, as I said, I’ll be okay with it. Well, not the shopping so much, but gathering with friends and family.

One of the most moving pieces of music ever written is “Taps.” It’s linked here, and I hope you will listen to it. Taps does not have words, but there are versions of it. My dad taught me them as a kid. It begins with, “Day is done, gone the sun…” While you listen, think about those 1.6 million men and women, and take a moment to say thank you for their sacrifice.

So, what can you do? Somewhere toward the beginning of this, I said to live life. The old saying “Many gave some, and some gave all” truly holds meaning. To not live in freedom is to dishonor those who gave all. Freedom carries a responsibility. Freedom is maintained by us, the people, through eternal vigilance.

Ronald Reagan once said, “Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction.” That’s not a political statement; it’s a fact. Freedom means holding the government accountable to the Constitution. Returning to Chamberlain, “peace in our time,” and the 60 million killed as a result of his appeasement—freedom means being willing to stand and fight for what’s right.

We’re not exactly facing the German war machine today, but some things are similar. Russia is taking, or attempting to take, territories in a similar manner. China is expanding its threat in the Pacific. Will either start a world war to achieve their ends? No, I don’t think so. We get into the concept of MAD, and if you don’t know what it means, shame on you and an F in history.

We have a volatile leader in North Korea, a real threat from Iran, and groups sponsored by it. Would he start a world war? Maybe, he’s a wildcard. What we do have, though, is Iran stating that jihad will not end until America is destroyed. Do I believe Iran would attempt this? Yes, I do. We have threats in the Middle East and Africa.

Are there terrorists out there that wish us harm? I believe there are. Can the latter two threats be stopped? Sure, if we are willing to stand against them as a people rather than preoccupy ourselves with the names of football teams, political correctness, wage debates, and social divisions. What truly defines us isn’t the color of our skin, our sex, origin, or ethnicity; it’s that we are Americans. Like it or not, we’re in this together.

By the way, I don’t say Happy Memorial Day. It’s a personal choice. It’s a somber day of remembrance when we pause to express our gratitude. I fail to see how death can be a happy event.

Thank you to anyone who took the time to read this. And now: Taps.

Echo Taps link: Lily Loose father daughter Echo Taps Arlington TN

I’m not sure when this photo of me was taken. It was at a Memorial Day observance and appeared in a local newspaper.

I like it because my face is blurred, probably due to the newspaper’s printing process. It gives the image a nondescript look, allowing anyone who looks at it to see themselves or another person reflected in it. My guess is that I was silently praying or having a moment of reflection. I just remember walking away from the people there to be alone after the service.

The photographer came over to ask my name. It interrupted my thoughts, but I told him. The next question was whether I was a Vietnam vet, but the answer was no. The question likely stemmed from what I was wearing. Those were my favorite hiking pants. They logged more than 500 miles in the mountains every year. The pants would tear, and I would sew them back up. My wife jokes about them now.

I used to visit Floral Hills Memory Gardens on Memorial Day for years. I loved the program and the gospel music. This particular day was different from the others.

I had befriended a World War II veteran whom my wife introduced me to. He had served in the Pacific. I loved listening to his stories about the war; most were on the lighter side. He had written a book, never published, about his experiences. I asked if I could read it. He gave it to me, and I finished it in one sitting.

He died about 30 minutes before the memorial service, just as I was leaving. I hopped in my car and made like the wind to get there. I was able to arrive just as the names of those who had served and passed were being read. It’s not exactly what Memorial Day is about, but it was a tradition that was observed every year. It was important to me that he be recognized, and his name was read last, noting that he had just died about an hour earlier. I can’t remember his name now, but I sure remember him.

I had another reason I wanted to be there. Every year, a young soldier in full uniform, which included a green beret, would show up. He would stand in front of a grave for a few minutes. Afterward, he would get on his knees, place his hand on the bronze military marker, and speak quietly. Then, he would rise, take three steps back, and salute.

It was an incredible display of love and respect for what I assumed was a family member. The following year, he went through the same ritual. The third year, this one, after he was finished, even though I had never seen anyone approach him, I decided to talk to him.

Each year, around Memorial Day, he would take leave to attend the program. It was his grandfather he was mourning and honoring. His grandfather had been killed in France by a German machine gunner. I didn’t ask the obvious question, thinking it would be discourteous.

Instead, I extended my hand, offered my sympathies for him and his family, thanked him for his continued service, and left him to be alone with his thoughts.

Taps consists of 24 notes. Despite its simplicity, the melody carries deep emotion and significance, especially in military ceremonies and memorials. It was originally used during the Civil War and has since become a solemn tribute to fallen soldiers.

I became familiar with it through my dad, a WWII vet. Initially, it was a signal for “lights out” in the military. Over time, it evolved to be associated with military funerals and memorial services. The 24 notes are played on both bugles and trumpets, with the bugle being the traditional instrument and, in my opinion, the better choice.

There are no official lyrics, but lyrics do exist. From my dad, I learned the following opening: “Day is done, gone the sun, From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky. All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.”
These lyrics are solemn and peaceful, but Taps can be haunting.

My dad wanted a military funeral, and he had one. Think about the lyrics for a moment. I suppose the phrase “day is done” carries a dual meaning—it can signify bedtime, a simple rest until morning, or it can represent a final sleep into eternity, a farewell.

Taps

I’ve written about Bobby several times—one piece was quite extensive. Another received more comments than perhaps anything I’ve ever written. All these years later, when his name comes up, you never hear an unkind word.

His remembrance is one of kindness mixed with sorrow. Why does a 20-year-old have to die? I don’t know. I know the United States has had about 800,000 combat deaths throughout its history, and when non-combat deaths are included, the total rises to as many as 1,600,000.

When I was practicing law in Lancaster, one of our more experienced attorneys, a Vietnam veteran, calculated the number of people affected by a divorce. Although I can no longer remember the exact number, it was high. The death of a single soldier would impact far more, and with the ripple effect, we’re talking about tens of millions of lives touched by this kind of loss. Yet wars continue.

Bobby was a volunteer. However, many of us around his age witnessed the draft lottery come into effect. By then, as hawkish as he had been—so much so that he wrote a scathing letter to the Supreme Court about the Ali decision—he had begun to soften. The old World War II veteran, now facing the prospect of his son possibly being drafted, saw deferments come to an end.

My birthdate was number one in the first year, but I wasn’t eligible for it. Still, my friends and I sat around the television for the lottery, watching and waiting. We discussed whether we would make good or bad soldiers, and we talked about Canada—but mostly, the conversation was just a way to distract ourselves from the dates being drawn.

One thing I know: if we had been called, we would have gone. Maybe reluctantly, but we would have gone.

My dad’s criticism of Ali’s decision was based on the rationale. By then, he had also begun to believe Walter Cronkite—that the war couldn’t be won in the traditional sense.

By the way, if you ever wanted to make an enemy for life, say to me that our soldiers in Vietnam died in vain. BOBBY DID NOT DIE IN VAIN! He died doing his duty—a duty he pledged to God and his country.

For that, we owe Bobby and others like him a debt so outstanding that we can never truly repay it. Please remember Bobby and the many like him today. At 3:00 p.m., take a moment to reflect.

Attached is a video of Ripcord. I took it from their website. I won’t say I like its tenor, but it’s interesting just the same:

https://youtu.be/2loma_YIulg?si=S_NkhyFbDnZ_CEwq

Memorial Day is an important day to me because we honor the men and women who died while serving in the U.S. military. I’m always moved when I hear Taps played.

I always write two or three pieces on Memorial Day. One focuses on history, which is the subject of this piece; another is about Taps, which I usually link in the first piece—but not this year. I also always write one about a friend, Bobby Zoller. Bobby died on July 2, 1970, in the A Shau Valley region of Vietnam. This year, maybe I’ll write about the future of Memorial Day or what it has become, based on an article I read a few days ago.

This year, Memorial Day falls on Monday, May 26. Traditionally, the actual day is May 30, but it was moved in 1971 to the fourth Monday of May to create a three-day weekend. To me, it should have been left alone; the significance of the day is lost to many, turning it into just another Monday off, a three-day weekend.

Formerly known as Decoration Day, it originated in the years following the Civil War, and I can still remember calling it by its former name. When I was a kid, it meant a parade and a trip to the cemetery. There was a 21-gun salute and the playing of Taps, and as soon as the ceremony ended, all the little boys would race to grab as many shell casings ejected from the guns as they could. After decades, we no longer have a local parade.

There appears to be some confusion about three distinct military observances, and you may often see photographs mislabeling them. I never fault those who get it wrong. Memorial Day honors those who died while in military service. Veterans Day celebrates the service of all U.S. military veterans. Armed Forces Day, observed in May, honors those currently serving in the U.S. military.

I know many will spend the day enjoying time with their families and having picnics. But honestly, the day is about those who never came home for another family gathering. Those are the ones I hope you take a moment to remember, whether on the 26th, the 30th, or both. I do both and still call it Memorial Day—a day of remembrance. Today at 3:00 p.m., take a moment to reflect on the real meaning of today.

A friend once asked me why people say “Happy Memorial Day.” I thought about it, and it makes no sense at all. It is a somber day of remembrance for those who have fallen, so I will never again preface it with “Happy.”

May God bless all the brave men and women who have fought and died for our country. We will forever be grateful for your sacrifice. God bless America!