Memorial Day Curmudgeonry

What?!? Curmudgeonry on Memorial Day?!?

Yep.

Memorial Day, originally called Decoration Day, is a day of remembrance for those who have died in our nation’s service.

And so it ought to be ever. But. Along with all the very suitable observances in honor of “those who have died in our nation’s service,” what has happened in our ever more debased society is that folks have more and more taken this observance as an opportunity for lesser “observances” of various kinds:

just another holiday for attending (or simply couch-potatoing) sports events, barbequeues, ordinary recreation

religious observances that illegitimately conflate the worship of God and “worship” of country (*yech*)

remembrance of any old family member or whatever who’s passed away (not in service to country)

No, most of those things aren’t necessarily bad things to do (well, sitting on ones kiester watching someone else accomplish something–no matter how worthless the accomplishment, couch potato style–is just a waste of time any time one does it). But NONE of those serve to honor our country’s fallen, and all do dishonor to those who gave their lives to preserve our liberties by the cheapening of Memorial Day, as long as those things are the focus of the holiday.

(OK, one of those things is just wrong in and of itself–far, far worse than laying couch potato. I’ll let you infer which I choose.)

Ah, but it’s all in the life of the Common Man: everything reduced not just to the lowest common denominator but reduced to the lowest denominator, period, as with everything else in our society: music, (graphic and performance) art, so-called literature, politics, public discourse (lower than low, that is, the Mass Media Podpeople Hivemind sets the agenda and controls the dialogue monologue).

*pfui*

Instead of any of those lesser “observances” above, consider Moina Michael‘s observation in response to John McRae’s “In FLanders Fields,”

We Shall Keep the Faith

by Moina Michael, November 1918

Oh! you who sleep in Flanders Fields,
Sleep sweet – to rise anew!
We caught the torch you threw
And holding high, we keep the Faith
With All who died.

We cherish, too, the poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led;
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies,
But lends a lustre to the red
Of the flower that blooms above the dead
In Flanders Fields.

And now the Torch and Poppy Red
We wear in honor of our dead.
Fear not that ye have died for naught;
We’ll teach the lesson that ye wrought
In Flanders Fields.

And buy a poppy (“make a donation” :-)) from the VFW member selling them at WallyWorld or wherever while you’re out and about.

And wear it.

It’s the least you can do.

But further,

In Flanders Fields

by John McCrae, May 1915

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep,
though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Yes, I added the emphasis to McRae’s words. Heed them well, especially in this election year. The “foe” with whom we must “quarrel” nowadays may look and sound a bit different than in McRae’s 1915 or Michael’s 1918, but at least they’re easy to spot: they’re all running for office.

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