On MEMORIAL Day Take Time to REMEMBER Those Who GAVE THEIR LIVES

The Amazing Virginian

The Amazing Virginian

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MEMORIAL Day was created as a special day for Americans to REMEMBER those who we can only REMEMBER, because they're not with us anymore as they GAVE THEIR LIVES in miitary service to the USA.

It's not a special day for remembering fallen Canadians. There's another day for that.

It's not a special day for remembering fallen police officers who lost their lives in duty. That was on May 15.

It's not a special day for saluting everyone who serves or ever served in the US armed forces. We have Veterans' Day for that on November 11.

In my opinion, we should avoid tainting this special day of REMEMBRANCE of fallen American warriors by lumping in every dude who peeled potatoes at Fort Bragg, North Carolia in 1995. Again, they have their own special day - in November. Veterans' Day. And we'll thank them then.

Today, on this THEIR special day, a MEMORIAL Day, please honor and respect the memories of those who died in miitary service for the USA by taking some time to focus on, remember, and be thankful for them.
 
bluemax_1 said:
It's a distinction that most people mistake.
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I don't think it's so much a mistake as they feel it respectful to be inclusive on many such occasions. I find it hard to fault them and never correct anyone unless asked. But it is true, there is certainly an intended distinction.

(Personally, anyone who gave their life in service of their country is a hero worth recognizing...and I think that's how most think of it.)
 
Blues said:
I don't think it's so much a mistake as they feel it respectful to be inclusive on many such occasions. I find it hard to fault them and never correct anyone unless asked. But it is true, there is certainly an intended distinction.

(Personally, anyone who gave their life in service of their country is a hero worth recognizing...and I think that's how most think of it.)
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Should've clarified; I meant in memoriam for the deceased vs honoring the living.
 
Blues said:
I don't think it's so much a mistake as they feel it respectful to be inclusive on many such occasions. I find it hard to fault them and never correct anyone unless asked. But it is true, there is certainly an intended distinction.

(Personally, anyone who gave their life in service of their country is a hero worth recognizing...and I think that's how most think of it.)
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I realize folks don't do it to be intentionally disrespectful, It's mostly ignorance or thoughtlessness. But in the end . . . I think it is (unitentionally) disrespectful. So I do try to get folks to think about it when I think I can.

Remember in "Patton" how he slapped the soldier who he called a "yellow bastard" and wouldn't let him stay in the same tent as the brave soldiers who were wounded in battle?

Well Veteran's Day is for that dude, too. He served. But in my book he doesn't get to stay "in the same tent" and enjoy the same special honor that we reserve today for those who died for their country.

May they rest in peace.
 
As above, my other thread was posted with similar known distinction, but also wanting to honor those that could give the ultimate sacrifice as those unbelievably brave, honorable and loyal that have given their lives before them. Personally, it's a continuum of awe and the utmost, sincerest appreciation.

I personally am present for death, due to a spectrum of causes, at least weekly and many times daily. But in my careers it's experiencing times with those that chose to put themselves in morbid situations due to honor, duty, obligation, and love, that cause my deepest reflections.

I, and my family, and many around me, are living wonderful, blessed, and hopeful lives due to sacrifices of so many, including some relatives, who fought and died for me and mine. They can -never- be forgotten, regardless of any of our beliefs/faiths/stances.

Death and sacrifice transcends bullish!t; it's complex, no doubt, but also very simple and basic.

Thank you, again, to those who have fallen for us.
 
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when he turned 18, my father enlisted in the US Army so that he could serve in the Vietnam war. Even though, (maybe because) he came from a long line of military men, his mother disowned him when she found out he'd enlisted. They never made amends, even though he tried, and it broke his heart. Because he enlisted, according to him, he had more options within the organization and ended up being tapped for military intelligence, serving as an armed courier.
He met my mom after his second tour, at Fort Bragg. She was involved in the peace movement, and upon discharge he got involved as well, writing for and distributing anti war literature.
Like many children of veterans, I didn't know much about his time in Vietnam. He had some pictures, of course, but he was always pretty tight lipped about his experience. I always knew it must have been really bad, but having been subject to movies like Rambo and whatnot, I was always very curious.

Charlie succumbed to 'friendly fire', by way of cancer from exposure to Agent Orange, in 2015. There isn't a day that goes by that I wish I could talk to him and show him what I'm doing. He was always proud of whatever it was that I did, perhaps the only person on this planet who was unequivocal in his belief in me, regardless of how shitty I may have been during certain points in my life.
It was always a little tough to talk with him on the phone, since he'd echo my every word to his wife! I always got a laugh out of that- I thought his pride was a little comical. Looking back, I regret that sometimes I wrote it off.

He was excited to move west from Pennsylvania to be close to his grandchild, and after kicking cancer's ass once, moved himself, his wife and two dogs across the country. Having settled in in Port Angeles, we finally had the opportunity to visit and he got to meet his grandkid. I've never seen him more full of joy than that day when they finally met. Not long after, the cancer returned in an extremely aggressive manner, and within a matter of weeks, he died. During his time in the hospital, he was mostly unconscious but there were times when whatever fire was still smouldering inside tried to break free, and he writhed and made sounds I have never heard before of since. I convinced myself that he was trying to fight his way back to life. Or maybe it was pain, or something else. I'll never know. There'll be so much I'll never know.

His wife stayed for as long as she could, and we visited as much as we could, but she just felt so alone and returned to the east coast to be close to her sister. Although there's much love between us, we don't really communicate much. I think it's just too painful for her, since I remind her so much of him.
 
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