Memorial Day always sits poorly with me. Allow me to explain:
I’ve never been a fan of Black/Women’s/ect. History Month. Seems it cheapened a group to give them a month as if they don’t deserve their fair due on each day. So it is with Memorial Day. Am I supposed to pull out my list of dead friends on one day each year to thank them? Those men that made their mark walk with me with every step of every day. They keep me humble. They shame me into action when I am weak. Those sons of bitches force me off the couch to not waste the gift they’ve given me, be it internal empowerment, security, freedom to worship (or in my case to never take to my knees), knowledge, or the fact that no man dares call me a subject. My days are often spent like a terrible Family Circus comic, but instead of Billy’s grandpa looking down from a cloud smiling, there are hundreds of ghosts over my shoulder watching my every move and demanding bold action.
Don’t stop with those fallen within our borders with a uniform on. Many of those vets among us are walking dead. No one comes back the same. It isn’t only those with an American uniform we should be grateful for. I’m thankful to those Greek veterans, spear in hand, that faced down the Persians. I’m thankful for those Franks that stood against tyranny at Tours. I’m thankful for those brave men who stood against despotism in Rhodesia. Imperialist as it may sound to most, I’m thankful for the brave 130 Brits who stood down the Zulu Kingdom at Rorke’s Drift who advanced Western Civilization against barbarism and unchecked power.
I am just as grateful for those brave men who didn’t carry a weapon. In his writings about the Spanish American War, Teddy Roosevelt once said that the greatest honor is in the performance of duty, and not the accident of valor. Picking up a weapon can be satisfying, but may not be the best one can do for the effort. I think of John Basilone whose greatest courage may well have been to come home to sell war bonds when he wanted to be off at the front. He died when he returned walking tanks through a minefield on Iwo Jima. To Nathan Hale. I thank those brave men and women who stood to advance knowledge when to do so may well be their death. They didn’t wear a uniform, but they were fighting in a war all the same. I have found moral courage twice as rare as physical courage in this world and I thank those brave souls who had the testicular fortitude to take a stand. To Ayaan Hirsi Ali. To Chris Hitchens.
And to a good man we lost today. As a nation we are poorer, for we lost a throwback today: the rare breed that built this country and kept the Soviets away. We’re losing them and if we do not emulate and take with us their strength then Chesty will have had it right when he said, “Our Country won’t go on forever, if we stay soft as we are now. There won’t be any America because some foreign soldiery will invade us and take our women and breed a hardier race!” Jack, you taught me about endurance. You taught me about the power of two hands and what they can create, when my own hands mostly destroy. Thank you. Try not to push too hard as one of those new ghosts over my shoulder.
So no, today isn’t Memorial Day. It’s Monday. I’ll be doing more Bar Review thank you. Not feeling like some Slipknot? Deal.
Bar Tally: 69 hours
