Memorial Day

Today is Memorial Day. This is the day each year when we, as a nation, celebrate the mortal sacrifices of our service men and women who have lost their lives in defense of this great nation. The exact origin of this tradition remains a little unclear, but it certainly grew out of the Civil War and some type of official celebration began shortly thereafter. At first it was Decoration Day, when the graves of fallen soldiers were decorated to honor them. Then it seems to have grown from there. For those of you interested in such history, I have pasted below what seems to be the actual history of Memorial Day for your further reading. At this time, however, I only wish to encourage any who read these words to remember those who have paid the ultimate price for the freedoms we all enjoy. Remember, also, that brave American men and women are out their risking their lives at this very moment on our behalf. I will not here endeavor to engage anyone on the politics of our current conflicts overseas, except to state our countrymen have died there and continue to live in harm’s way so they, both the living and the dead, deserve all of our honor, respect and support. Today is the day to hang up your flag, to say a prayer, perhaps even make a phone call or write a letter to those who have lost loved ones … or live daily with the fear thereof. Please don’t let this day pass without some act or thought of patriotism and gratitude. To that end, I offer the following poem in honor of those who paid the ultimate price for this great nation and our personal liberties.

Song of Freedom
Still ringing are the battle cries
Of freedom from the past
Sung out by brave young men who spilled
Their blood and breathed their last
Still waving is the flag
They proudly served and held aloft
Yet, we must be ever wary
Lest our resolve grows dim and soft
Our children need to know the legacy
Of freedom which is theirs
As the gauntlet passes on to them
For they are freedom's heirs
Sons and daughters of a liberty
Which was born of trial and strife
Paid for dearly by the countless men
Who gave both limb and life
We must keep the fire burning
May we never let it die
So our children's children's children
Know the sound of freedom's cry
It's not enough to just be born here
We have to guard our liberty
And pass it on so generations
In the future will be free
By Frank Carpenter ©

Memorial Day, originally called Decoration Day, is a day of remembrance for those who have died in our nation's service. There are many stories as to its actual beginnings, with over two dozen cities and towns laying claim to being the birthplace of Memorial Day. There is also evidence that organized women's groups in the South were decorating graves before the end of the Civil War: a hymn published in 1867, "Kneel Where Our Loves are Sleeping" by Nella L. Sweet carried the dedication "To The Ladies of the South who are Decorating the Graves of the Confederate Dead" (Source: Duke University's Historic American Sheet Music, 1850-1920). While Waterloo N.Y. was officially declared the birthplace of Memorial Day by President Lyndon Johnson in May 1966, it's difficult to prove conclusively the origins of the day. It is more likely that it had many separate beginnings; each of those towns and every planned or spontaneous gathering of people to honor the war dead in the 1860's tapped into the general human need to honor our dead, each contributed honorably to the growing movement that culminated in Gen Logan giving his official proclamation in 1868. It is not important who was the very first, what is important is that Memorial Day was established. Memorial Day is not about division. It is about reconciliation; it is about coming together to honor those who gave their all.

Memorial Day was officially proclaimed on 5 May 1868 by General John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, in his General Order No. 11, and was first observed on 30 May 1868, when flowers were placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery. The first state to officially recognize the holiday was New York in 1873. By 1890 it was recognized by all of the northern states. The South refused to acknowledge the day, honoring their dead on separate days until after World War I (when the holiday changed from honoring just those who died fighting in the Civil War to honoring Americans who died fighting in any war). It is now celebrated in almost every State on the last Monday in May (passed by Congress with the National Holiday Act of 1971 (P.L. 90 - 363) to ensure a three day weekend for Federal holidays), though several southern states have an additional separate day for honoring the Confederate war dead: January 19 in Texas, April 26 in Alabama, Florida, Georgia, and Mississippi; May 10 in South Carolina; and June 3 (Jefferson Davis' birthday) in Louisiana and Tennessee.
Traditional observance of Memorial day has diminished over the years. Many Americans nowadays have forgotten the meaning and traditions of Memorial Day. At many cemeteries, the graves of the fallen are increasingly ignored, neglected. Most people no longer remember the proper flag etiquette for the day. While there are towns and cities that still hold Memorial Day parades, many have not held a parade in decades. Some people think the day is for honoring any and all dead, and not just those fallen in service to our country.
Information from : http://www.usmemorialday.org/backgrnd.html

Integrity

Did you ever wonder how some people can do certain things that you wouldn’t even dream of doing because those things just aren’t right? Or have you noticed the way some men or women seem to become comfortable with worse and worse choices over time. Chances are that others may even have had similar questions about yours or my actions from time to time. Most folks aren’t born dishonest, but in the course of making a series of poor choices they tend to come more easily over time. When we observe those who seem to tumble over the dark edges of integrity more closely, we discover that it is usually more of a slide than a fall. One careless step is taken at a time, but those small steps pave the way for the inevitable ethical fall from grace which has become so prevalent in our culture. Outright theft begins with petty larceny. Infidelity begins with impure thoughts and soft porn. Small lies grow into larger ones. The list goes on and on. Indeed, our lives are a constant series of tiny choices, each of which helping to determine our direction. And, in the end, direction determines destination. When we make an honorable choice, our lives travel ever so slightly in that direction. The same is true with our less honorable choices. It’s all about trajectory. Each of us has a conscience. The more we exercise it, the stronger and more defined it becomes. However, when we neglect or abuse it, it becomes impotent over time. A little fudging now and then seems like it wouldn’t hurt. Sure, everyone drives a little over the speed limit and cheats some on their taxes. It always starts small, but once we discover how easy it is to bend the rules, we begin to assume that all the lines of morality are elastic in nature. From there it’s a short trip downhill. We have all known folks who have taken that downward spiral and it is rarely becoming. The real danger is that if you dance around the edge of the quicksand for too long, you’ll eventually end up neck deep in it ... and then it can be too late to save you. Those better choices we have the opportunity to make each day can have an impact on our lives as well. They make us better people, better citizens, better parents, better human beings. Isn’t that who we want to be? Isn’t that the legacy we want to leave for our children and grandchildren? Let us consider carefully, therefore, all those little choices we make during the course of each day and make absolutely sure that they lead us down the path of integrity. That is where we want to end up, and no one leaves this world regretting an honorable life.

Integrity
So often we can justify
any action we might take
We bend the rules far beyond
the point where they should break
Defending actions wholly
unacceptable, in fact
Except, of course, if it is us
who perpetrate the act
At first, we start with little things
misdemeanors and white lies
Then, as our character erodes
we see with different eyes
Overlooking more and more
until we barely see
What would have been so crystal clear
when we had more integrity
But as the sediment builds up
within a person's heart
He discerns his actions differently
than he did back at the start
He discovers that the world owes him
a little something more
And finds himself involved in things
he never would have long before
But another creature has evolved
from the one he used to be
With a conscience worn and twisted
and without integrity
It didn't happen overnight
indeed, the change is slow
As he discards a host of values
which were cherished long ago
We all fudge when it's convenient
and cheat a little, what's the harm
As long as no one seems to care
and we cover it with charm
But every time we cross the line
we drag it just a bit
Until we can't remember where it was
or why we needed it
Then we reach a point where honor
has no value or appeal
And a man who has no honor
is a man who's free to steal
Who can justify his actions
to himself so easily
Once he has ground off all the teeth
of his own integrity
And each of us is wandering
somewhere along that road
Making moral choices every day
which can build or can erode
And he, who chooses wisely
proves himself a man indeed
For he confirms that he is more
than just a slave of greed
The road will fork uncounted times
throughout each man's history
But the sweetest destination
lies down the path of integrity
By Frank Carpenter ©

Seaside Solace

I have had occasion of late to revisit the subject of grief. Since I am no stranger to that bitter friend it often figures prominently in my own writings, whether they involve my personal experiences or those shared with others. My most recent foray down the more difficult side of memory lane led me to some observations which had not previously occurred to me. I wrote those previous three sentences several hours ago, intending to explore this subject and conclude with the poem below entitled “Seaside Solace,” which I penned after my father’s passing a few years ago. Strangely, just as I sat down this evening complete these thoughts I received a phone call informing me that my father’s oldest and dearest friend had passed away last week. This comes as a somewhat disconcerting coincidence, in the very midst of my little essay on grief. I suppose, at the very least, that it serves to make my words all the more poignant this evening. So among other things, this will serve as a tribute to Lou Pappan as well.

As I mull over this most recent turn of events, we will return to the point of my original observations. In times of grief we tend to turn to areas of passion in our lives to help us deal with heartache and pain. We find comfort in that which we find most familiar, especially if those things are natural stress relievers for us. Each of us is wired differently so we tend to respond to varying occupational therapies. Some folks look to music or art, others to exercise or reading. Some people crave relationship while others seek solitude to work out their feelings. It can come as no surprise that grief, like so many other issues, drives me to write. That is because I think slowly and find it comforting to work out my feelings on paper. I believe it was the author E.M. Forester who once wrote, “How can I know what I think until I see what I said?” Those words capture beautifully the therapeutic value of the written word for those like me who use it to come to terms with their own thoughts and feelings. My heart is also deeply wrapped up in the ocean, which I find to be utterly relaxing and inspirational. No wonder, then, that after my own father’s passing I found myself down at the shore penning the words of the poem which I offer you today. Perhaps it can be a comfort to others as well.

In closing, I encourage each of you to consider carefully what your areas of passion and interest are. These are the things to turn to when you have need of comfort in your own life. Sometimes it helps to have our hands or minds occupied while God is working on our hearts. Even when there seems to be no joy we can still find peace through our passions. I wish you all the best today and encourage you to send this on to others if you know people who could use these words of comfort. I also leave you with a photo from my own recent beach wanderings.

Seaside Solace
I brought my grief-stricken heart to the ocean
Back to my favorite of places once more
Carried it down to the water’s edge
And laid it gently upon the shore
To let the cool, cleansing sea
Begin to dissolve the plaque of despair
While the ageless motion of the waves
Washed away the silt of care
Letting the music of the surf
Flow through the deepest parts of me
Until solace ebbed within my heart
And sorrow drifted out to sea
By Frank Carpenter ©