A Gentle Reminder

It's one of my favorites, the Memorial Day weekend.  And I like it not for the reasons you might think; the unofficial start to the summer, the barbques, maybe even, if I'm lucky, a day at the beach.  No, for me its the parade.  I know, I'm a geek, but the parade for me is a rich reminder of what makes this country great.  Children dressed in patriotic red, white and blue, all with smiles as they watch the march before them. The road ahead for them is filled with possibilities.  And why?  Because of those that led the trek; the soldiers, from the symbolic colonial fife and drum troop to actual veterans from WWII, Korea, Vietnam, Gulf 1, Iraq and Afghanistan.  All in uniform and marching proudly, eyes dead ahead as the crowd cheers. No words are spoken, but the message is profound; these men and women put their lives and dreams on hold so we could pursue and enjoy ours. A gentle reminder that serves us all well.

Comments

[Gerard Coulombe]

The meaning of Memorial Day has evolved over the years. From the time I was able to walk, I attended Memorial Day with my parents. We walked everywhere and so did everybody else because few of us owned a car. We walked to Main Street to view a parade that included my uncle Noah, A Spanish-American War veteran, my uncle, a First World War Veteran among the corps of veterans marching still or riding the rumble seats of the few cars in the parade. Painchaud's band led the march down Main all the way to the cemetery where we gathered having followed the man and various contingents making up the units parading that day. We carried our bouquets of handpicked flowers and small American flags to place on the graves of my grandparents, uncles, and later visited with friends and ate our brown-bag lunches before walking the several miles back home.