1. I lost Memorial Day
Rob Neal
Published in the Portland Press Herald, Maine. May 6, 2010
Standing with a few hundred people on the town green last year for a Memorial Day
celebration, I had a feeling of loss come over me. No one had died in my family in a war
recently, nor had anyone in our town. We all stood there among the coffin flags, each of
which represented a local family who had lost someone from wars past or present.
Moments earlier, the short but festive parade down Main Street, the pulsing drum beats
from the two marching bands, and seeing my young daughter march for the first time
had left me feeling upbeat and playful. Then the ceremonies began with more solemn
tones, as it should, and I began to feel lost. Like I’d never been here before. Like
Memorial Day had been taken from me years ago. The coffin flags drew the crowd in
closer.
In my father’s generation, all the men in my family served in WWII or Korea. All did
well and in our extended family only one died. My father didn’t like to talk about his
experience as a “hump” pilot flying over the Himalayas where 30 percent of the flights
ended badly due to weather and enemy fire. He won all the awards and medals that an
airman could, yet, had nothing to say about it really.
He preferred talking about the times on leave when he could travel around India, away
from the fighting. I don’t remember him or anyone else making a big deal out of
Memorial Day. “Why not?” I thought last year, so many of them died.
My generation had Vietnam. A lost, cursed war with chaos at home and abroad. We
battled the “enemy” and we battled each other for many years as the war dragged on.
The dead and wounded and traumatized, left dangling out on a limb, pushed away from
glory, and misunderstood for years to come.
In that time we had Memorial Day celebrations just like today, but they felt torn and
awkward like the war raging across the ocean. No heroes welcome, no “Semper Fi”
cheers, no “When Johnny comes marching home again, hoorah, hoorah!”, no
monuments or memorials. It took us years to figure out how to thank the soldiers who
were just doing what they were asked to do. They were not fighting a political war, they
just fought a war.
My baby boomer generation lost something during Vietnam that is only now coming
back to us. It feels right and good to honor the individual men and women who choose
to serve in the military, and sometimes fight wars we may not like or support. For
whatever personal reasons they may have, our soldiers make this choice to serve.

2. I have a son who made this choice five years ago. He’s doing just fine, thank you.
When he made this decision I knew it was a good one for him. Yet, I don’t ever want to
be at a Memorial Day event for him. Please, no!
He has friends who’ve been killed or injured, and had a few close calls himself. He’s seen
the good and bad side to life in the military. He’s doing the jobs he’s been trained to do.
Risk and danger come with the territory.
Politicians play their rhetorical games, but they also make the big decisions that lead to
Memorial days all over our country. We all benefit and we all lose at the same time.
These freedoms we cherish come at a cost.
As I thought of my father and son on Memorial Day last year, while standing on the
town green watching the coffin flags shift in the breeze, I felt some of the loss those
families know. I felt the risk, I felt the pride, and I felt thankful that a small town parade
could give me back Memorial Day. I’ll be back again this year.
Rob Neal lives in Yarmouth, Maine.