Well, here we are, another Memorial Day weekend is upon us. There are many who say this weekend is the “unofficial” start of the summer season. I remember one particular Memorial Day weekend in 1981, when I had the great fortune to be able to experience the Indy-500 automobile race. At the time, I remembered how much I wished my dad could have been there to experience that with me; but at the time, logistically, it just was not feasible. Other Memorial Days, I remember time spent with family, great food from the grill and the first frigid dip in the swimming pool.
Other times, when I think of Memorial Day, I'm struck with thoughts that are a bit of a paradox. Among the fun activities, there comes with the day a touch of sadness. Since the first Memorial Day, it has been a time to reflect and to pay tribute to those young men and women who were taken far too soon by the bitter ugliness of war. I understand the need for brave young men and women who are willing to put their own lives on the line so that others may enjoy God-given freedoms that many take for granted. I am, and will be, eternally grateful for the sacrifices they, and their loved ones, have made.
I saw a field once. It was a vast open area. It was a field bordered with beautiful trees on softly rolling hills. The field seemed to be the epitome of peace and tranquility. Aside from the occasional large oak tree and well-manicured lawns, the only thing planted there were white crosses; rows and rows of white crosses. Each cross representing a father, brother, sister, uncle, son, daughter or perhaps a best friend from some unknown person's boyhood. Far too often, each cross representing a life taken much too soon. Ironic, don't you think, that such an idyllic setting would be associated with the senseless violence of war?
Call me Pollyanna if you want; but I can't help but hope that one day, we will find a way to resolve differences that won't call for more fields of white crosses. I know that there are times when people have to answer the call to come to their own defense. But wouldn't it be a great day if people would somehow learn to respect each other and learn to live together without the need for anymore fields of white crosses; a day when battlefields will become fields of play. A day when we can finally, once and for all, turn our swords into plow-shears. That will be the day when we finally give those we remember on Memorial Day the true honor and respect they deserve.