A Vietnam veteran that I know often bristles (rather audibly) whenever anyone says “Happy Memorial Day!”
“Don’t say that,” he appeals to anyone within listening range, “because it’s not a happy day.”
Sure, Memorial Day has evolved into the unofficial start of summer — a time for parades, barbeques, pool parties (and for the fashion-minded, permission to wear white again).
It’s easy to lose sight of what this day really means. With roots dating back to post-Civil War time, Memorial Day used to be called “Decoration Day” and was meant as a time for decorating the graves of the war dead with flowers. Eventually it’s scope expanded to include all members of the military.
I would like to take this opportunity to commemorate all the courageous men and women who served in the armed forces, especially my father (pictured at left) and his father. My dad was drafted into the Army toward the end of World War II almost minutes after he turned 18, and a few years later served in the Korean conflict. My grandfather served in World War I and received a purple heart for bravery. He was injured with shrapnel while fighting in France.
I’d also like to remember my late, great Uncle Bud, one of the last few WWII vets (He died only a few months ago). He served in the Navy and narrowly missed being shipped out on the ill-fated USS Arizona.
And, of course, I’d like to add my friend, the Vietnam vet, who is now in a battle against cancer — the result of exposure to Agent Orange, a toxic mixture of chemicals used by American military to defoliate the jungles of Vietnam.