A few years ago, I was in Vicksburg for a military conference, and stayed
   directly across the street from the battlefield, in fact, the Icebreaker was
   held at the Confederate Headquarters for that battle, several cannonballs
   were still stuck in the walls from the Union cannons. Preparations were
   being made for the Memorial Day ceremonies at the battlefield, for it was one
   of the first to celebrate this holiday.

   Yes, as some may know Memorial Day originated with the decoration of the
   graves of the Confederate soldiers by the women of the South, and the idea
   was then stolen by the Yankees, the date changed, and it became immersed in
   Yankee mercantilism and became a weekend for sales and races. Growing up in
   Pennsylvania, I can remember the whole town being closed, only essential
   elements open, and everyone coming to the parades and the services.

   I look at Memorial Day with mixed feelings, as its honors the fallen,
   while Veterans Day honors those who survived, fortunately my day is in
   November. My quixotic feelings about Memorial Day originated with a Chaplain
   that I respect deeply. We were discussing the lack of respect paid to the
   original honorees of this holiday. He, also a combat veteran, commented that
   they probably didn't mind, as they, either literally or figuratively, made
   the supreme sacrifice, as they had "laid down their life for another", and as
   such would be honored in Heaven for as the Bible says "there is no greater
   gift" than that they performed. The Chaplain's words made me consider life,
   and especially as a Christian, and what life and death mean, to me. As a
   soldier and a man, I have many times feared dying and have gone to great
   lengths to avoid it, but oddly enough, I have never feared death, its
   conclusion.

   I compare life with this glass of water, the most primary necessity of
   life, it is full now, but as each day passes it becomes a little less full,
   not as some say, a little more empty. The absence of the liquid only allows
   that area to be filled with memories and experiences, not only for the user
   but also for those he loved and knew. As we age, more experiences and
   memories than liquid are in evidence, but does that mean the glass is
   emptying , far from it, it means that God has allowed our life to progress,
   to establish memories, to be remembered, for as Socrates stated "man is only
   gone when the last to remember him is gone."

   No, only the pessimist ever considers this glass to be 1/2 empty, that
   half his life is gone, the optimist sees that what now fills the void of
   liquid, is life itself.... the first step, the first fall, the first hit at
   baseball, the first kiss, all the memories that one has shared, and will
   continue to share as long as they are remembered, and the stories retold.
   No, far from empty, the glass is overflowing with life.
 

   The Chaplain said that maybe Memorial Day should be held in Heaven, for
   it is those on earth that need the memories to survive, not those at God's
   side. We should honor the fallen, and those who knew them should rightly
   share their stories, as then it means that their glass will never empty.

   Ray Charles in his famous rendition of "America the Beautiful" chose the
   fourth stanza for his beginning, "O, beautiful for patriot dream...", I
   believe that the spirit of this holiday is better stated in the third stanza:

   O, beautiful for heroes proved,
   In liberating strife,
   Who more than self, their country loved
   And mercy more than life

   Dennis Rogers, the columnist, wrote a piece years ago for Memorial Day,
   to me it says it all, its too long to read, but I'll paraphrase it,

   Hey' we made it, just like we thought, out of the mud and fear, and back
   to light and love, we did it all "the monster steak, yeah, the country ham,
   fresh milk, yellow eggs, and cooold beer" but we didn't forget, we called
   your folks as promised and sent the pictures we took, but then life went on;
   school, wife, kids, and it happened; we couldn't remember all your names,
   you were the skinny kid from Kansas who took the grenade; the black guy with
   glasses that recited Shakespeare who got it on point; the Brooklyn Bomber,
   whose plane didn't get back from the target; that French guy with the German
   name that always made us laugh, and got it an ambush meant for me."

   Tomorrow, those of us who lucked out and became veterans, will try to
   remember you who didn't come home like you promised, and who will be part of
   us forever, who will always be forever young, we will insure that your glass
   is never empty.

   To Ed Grottke, the French guy with the German name, KIA 14 Oct 1969, Thien
   Nhon, III Corps, RVN

   Tobin