Folks, we should all be appalled. Memorial Day, or Decoration Day, as it used to be called; has become a casualty. It’s true meaning and reason for being has become lost over the years.

Memorial Day was proclaimed on May 5, 1868, by Gen. John Logan, National Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic. It was first observed May 30, 1868, when flowers were placed on graves of both Union & Confederate soldiers in Arlington National Cemetery. In 1971, the Feds moved it to the last Monday of May, to give their employees a 3-day weekend. How nice.

When I was a kid, everything shut down on Memorial Day, as it should be. My dad always made sure he gassed up the car the day before, and Mom made sure there was milk in the house because everything was closed on Memorial Day. Now instead of honoring the hundreds of thousands of men and women who gave their lives for our freedom and liberty, we think of Memorial Day as a day to sleep in, to have a picnic, or get an extra 20% off at the mall. I’ve seen probably only two other homes in my neighborhood fly our flag that day.

Appalling.

And what about parades? How many cities have parades anymore, and how many people attend? In 1915, Moina Michael wrote this little poem:

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.

This little poem says it all, don’t you think? My friends, lets make a pact. We must never forget or take for granted the selfless sacrifice of our war heroes, dead and alive. Without them, we wouldn’t be able to “tweet.” I wouldn’t be using this computer to write a post. Folks wouldn’t be able to protest or have a Tea Party. So please, guys; if you don’t have a flag, go buy one and hang it proudly. They aren’t that expensive. Protest by not going to the mall or doing any shopping. Visit a cemetery, even if you don’t have a loved one there who was in the service. And make sure you tell any veteran or armed services person that day:

“Thank you for your service to this country. Without you, this wouldn’t be the greatest nation in the world. I have my life, my liberty, and my happiness, because of you. I am most humbly honored to know you.”

Freedom Is Not Free

Kelly Strong

I watched the flag pass by one day. It fluttered in the breeze.

A young Marine saluted it,

and then he stood at ease.

I looked at him in uniform

So young, so tall, so proud,

He’d stand out in any crowd.

I thought how many men like him

Had fallen through the years.

How many died on foreign soil?

How many mothers’ tears?

How many pilots’ planes shot down?

How many died at sea?

How many foxholes were soldiers’ graves?

No, freedom isn’t free.

I heard the sound of TAPS one night,

When everything was still

I listened to the bugler play

And felt a sudden chill.

I wondered just how many times

That TAPS had meant “Amen,”

When a flag had draped a coffin

Of a brother or a friend.

I thought of all the children,

Of the mothers and the wives,

Of fathers, sons and husbands

With interrupted lives.

I thought about a graveyard

At the bottom of the sea

Of unmarked graves in Arlington.

No, freedom isn’t free