(Culpeper National Cemetery on a lovely Saturday in May. Our little county may have been the most fought over in all of Virginia back in the day).
We were drinking white wine at The Copper Fish, my favorite place on historic East Davis Street in downtown Culpeper. I was going to stop at the Culpeper National Cemetery and pay my respects later, and was settling up the tab with Sean, a personable waiter.
When he handed my credit card back, he wished me a “Happy Memorial Day.”
I felt obligated to give him the brief tutorial on the meaning of the holiday, its origins in little towns like this one across the midsection of the Eastern Seaboard that saw the brunt of the fighting in the war between the states, and the appalling number of fresh graves for the young men of their generation that needed decorating.
Once I was done, I felt bad. If he wants to have a happy holiday, he is certainly entitled to it. I am probably too sensitive and it is unlikely that the idea of dying for your country is more than a curious intellectual concept to him.
I am lucky. Beyond the legions those who gave all in my Dad’s generation, I have only a few friends who laid down their lives while wearing the uniform. My pal Bronco, a Navy fighter pilot of some repute, isn’t so lucky. He captured the mood of this gray morning with great and deadening precision. He said he was doing his annual exercise, not the physical kind, but the mental.
Each year around this time he engages in a more somber task–writing down the names of those he knew who did not survive their service.
This year he had got to 28 names, including, he said, “Flip Clark—an A-7 pilot in my air wing who did not return from mining North Vietnamese waters–Jim Dunsing and Roy Haviland who died in a midair collision over the Tonkin Gulf–Mark Bottrell, who flew a Phantom into a mountain–Bobby Hughes, a VF-121 mate who flew his A-4 into a Phantom in a fight–and the list goes on and on.”
And more faces whose names now escape him, but he recalls the tragic circumstances of their passing. Every birthday he thinks of them–frozen in time as he goes on. He is remembering them all today, as I am remembering mine.
Bronco’s list sobered me. I guess I agree with Sean the young waiter, in the end. I hope everyone has a great time on this holiday that ushers in the warm months.
But in a side moment, remember those who did not live to see it. And why they gave their lives for us.
Copyright 2016 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com