Coming from the generation that grew up in the fifties, I learned to honor and revere our parents who had come back victorious from a war in Europe and the South Pacific. When it became our turn, we were subjected to dishonor by our homeland after a confused military action in southeast Asia.
This Memorial day I am looking back even further, to Alexander The Great, Genghis Khan, and Napoleon. I wonder about this thing called war.
This day we remember our fallen, whom we know only from their stories and the recollections of loved ones, and we honor them for their unselfish service to their country. We owe them, we thank them for the fact that we are still a shining example of freedom and personal liberty. From my heart I honor them, from my head I question why they had to give their lives so, in fact why we have to have wars at all.
Somewhere I remember some phrase about beating swords into plowshares, yet, we continue to have to reforge plows into swords. I guess the theme song for this day in my mind is “Last night I had the strangest dream” by Bob Dylan.