Remembering

My Dad was born on Memorial Day, May 30, 1911. Too young to serve in World War I, he dropped out of High School and joined the National Guard. He served in the Cavalry in the beginning, but was among the first to switch from horses to motorcycles in the early 1930’s. Seriously hurt in a car crash on 1938, he was unable to see combat in World War II, but served in the Secret Service during the war. All of my uncles served in WWII; all of them returned safely and began their families. My brother Michael retired from a career with the Air Force, with the rank of Colonel. Having lost no one in combat, our family nonetheless celebrates Memorial Day as best we can in the various locations where we live.
 
Originally called Decoration Day, this holiday was founded in 1868 by Union General John A. Logan, to commemorate all the soldiers lost on both sides in the Civil War. It was set on May 30th, and remained on that day until Congress passed the Uniform Monday Holiday Bill in 1968, moving Memorial Day to the last Monday in May, beginning in 1970. There are two other national holidays honoring Those Who Serve: Armed Forces Day, respecting those currently in the Service, on the third Saturday in May, and Veterans’ Day on November 11th. Originally called Armistice Day, in honor of the Armistice ending World War I on November 11, 1918, it was temporarily moved to a Monday setting, but after a loud outcry from many Veterans, it was returned to November 11th in 1978. It is now one of only two national holidays (the other being Independence Day on July 4th) that are retained on their original date. (Christmas and New Years are also considered national holidays, but Congress was smart enough not to touch their dates.)
 
I fly the flag on the front of our rectory, as well as in the sanctuary of the church, beginning Memorial Day, and continuing each day (unless it’s raining, when I bring it indoors) until Veterans’ Day. I don’t always remember to bring the flag in at night, as flag etiquette requires, unless the flag is illuminated. When in Parochial School, two Boy Scouts raised the flag each morning as we all recited the Pledge of Allegiance in our classrooms, and lowered it each afternoon at the end of the school day. One boy pulled the ropes while the other made certain that the flag did not touch the ground. As Boy Scouts, we flew the flag in the center of our gathered tents when we went on campouts.
 
When my brother’s grandchildren were visiting me in Woodstock, where the Memorial Day parade passes right by the rectory, I made certain that the children knew to stand, remove their hats, and place their right hand over their hearts when the flag passed by. Of course, they already knew this from their Grandfather, the Colonel, but they benefited by a reminder from their favorite Great Uncle. I’ve heard nothing about a parade this year, probably another victim of covid cancellations, but I will fly the flag proudly on Memorial Day before heading out for an afternoon picnic with friends. We should all remember and honor those who gave their lives for the freedom we enjoy. May their souls and the souls of all the Faithful Departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.