Memorial Day

Magnolia Cemetery, Charleston, S.C.

 The dead soldier's silence sings our national anthem.  ~Aaron Kilbourn

Thank you ladies and gentlemen.

Memorial Day

Marion Square, Charleston, S.C.

This scene was taken a few years ago at Marion Square but worth reposting.

A commenter on Facebook this morning said something that felt very meaningful. He wrote, "I always try to make sure I act in such a way to make those who have paid the ultimate sacrifice proud. No one should lay down their life for me in vain." Amen.

And I'm proud to be an American,
where at least I know I'm free.
And I won't forget the men who died,
who gave that right to me.
~Lee Greenwood

I won't forget....

Marion Square (scene from a few years ago), Charleston, S.C.


And I'm proud to be an American,
where at least I know I'm free.
And I won't forget the men who died,
who gave that right to me.
~Lee Greenwood

Last Day, May 2010

Our Last Day location is sorely lacking now that our little tree's been mowed down. I put together all the photos I've taken at the Last Day location this month, and there wasn't a single one I really liked. I see how the tree framed the shot. Now there's an empty space on the left side of the picture and it's just not much of a photo anymore. I miss that tree.

I said I'd stick with the Last Day Project for a year and I will. We have June, July and August to go. Anything can happen.

It's appropriate for us to feel sorely lacking of something beloved on Memorial Day. Trees will grow again.

Memorial

Memorial Day was once called "Decoration Day." Loved ones gathered to decorate the graves of those who had fought for their country.

When I arrived at Mountain View Cemetery in Altadena Saturday, someone had already been decorating the graves with small, identical American flags. A local veterans organization? Anyone know?

The soldier graves at Mountain View go back to the Civil War. The history contained in the place must be amazing. But this recent grave brought me to tears. It's not a blank stone; I photographed it from behind so as not to invade the family's privacy. This soldier's been in the ground three years. He was 22 when he died in Iraq.

When his family arrives at his grave today, they'll see that flag and know that others care. They won't know about my tears, but I hope they'll know that the loss of their "beloved son and brother"— as an individual and as a symbol of other individuals—is felt by other citizens of the world. Some of us feel he died for a cause. Some of us feel he died in vain. And in America, we still have a right to say so.

I live in California and my father, who was a Marine in World War II, is buried in Illinois. I hope someone decorated his grave with a flag today.

Quiet View

I visited Mountain View Cemetery in Altadena yesterday. I don't have loved ones buried there. My plan was to get a photo for Memorial Day, and I got plenty. I'll post one tomorrow, and perhaps more in the future.

Last week was stressful, and I guess I hadn't realized how much until the weekend came. Alone at the cemetery with my camera, late on a cool and cloudy day, my mind goes where it will. And it will go to thoughts of my mortality because I'm surrounded by the dead.

Why is that calming? Because I'm not dead. I'm here. Glad of it, too.

Stress be damned, I don't need it. It's a waste of my precious time.