Memorial Day Politiku

Different sources make different claims regarding the origin of Memorial Day. Southern hymns, Union Generals and United States Presidents all claim to have officiated the holiday that my great-grandmother from Omaha used to insist on referring to as, "Decoration Day." While I'm still not quite clear on whether "Decoration Day" was the predecessor to our contemporary "Memorial Day" or whether they both emerged simultaneously, post Civil War, the challenge of pinpointing an origin could easily keep a team of historians busy through Memorial Day 2010 at least.

Scrolling back through my personal associations with the holiday is considerably less daunting. I was born and raised a Beltway brat. This means that the memorials for honoring the people and events of the past were a routine fixture of my perpetual present. I was six years old when my parents first took me visit the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Arlington National Cemetery. Not only was it the first military ceremony I ever witnessed but it was the first time I ever saw real soldiers. The fact that they could stand so still and move so precisely, made the experience seem all the more supernatural. The clicks of the taps of the shoes of the round the clock guards was utterly miraculous.

Who was this soldier who remained "unknown?" No answers would satisfy me. The questions I bombarded my parents with were, in fact, almost exactly the same questions that I was recently bombarded with by eleven-year-old cousin, Max. "It's many soldiers -- not just one" I am now able to explain. "They're from different wars and could belong to any family that lost someone." Through the process of trying to explain I am reminded of the impossibility of defining, quantifying or comprehending a loss of this magnitude and this loss that will continue to remain.

Don Bassman's Politiku

bold untouchable
implacable impartial
honor code of Death

Frankie Clogston's Politku

All over the Mall.
Memorial City, this.
Crowded memories.

Karen Goldner's Politiku

Cheney/Obama
Their talks remind me again
I'm glad Bush is done

Irene Gravina's Politiku

No sense to be made
Down on the grass by your grave
Green bug on my wrist

Peter Orvetti's Politiku

Thousands of lost souls
Fallen soldiers, orphaned young
For rights we squander

Susanna Speier's Politiku

Tomb of the Unknown
shoes that shine, that tap, that click
Beltway Kids, witness

Comments

[pattyY]

Suze,
Just read your latest Huffington Post article and I loved It. Keep up the great work.

You don't have to go back to your grandmother for Decoration Day. We called it that, too when we were young. Also, I remember that volunteers stood on street corners in downtown Des Moines handing out red paper poppies (donations wanted) and you were considered unamerican if you didn't wear one. I later learned the meaning:

In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae, May 1915

n Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
ake up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

[kojoman]

REMEMBER THEM…
http://www.youtube.com/kojoman75
This presentation was preformed & created by members of the famed All Black 555th Airborne Regiment, Combat Team Association; at Pioneer Garden in Chicago (Bronzeville) Illinois.
The event took place during a memorial service, for widows of the U.S Army's last all Black Combat Unit, the 24th Infantry Regiment. Association, Illinois Chapter.

Curtis,,, aka "Kojo"
http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.myvideos