My son is now a strapping father of two living just north of Anchorage, Alaska. He was born on February 16. Me? I share my birthday with Horatio Alger, but he shares his with a long-dead US Navy officer named Stephen Decatur. It was Decatur who proposed the toast, "To the United States! My country, right or wrong, but my country, nonetheless."
Here in the US, we really have three patriotic holidays: Memorial Day, dedicated to those who have served our nation in combat and who have been wounded or died in war, the Fourth of July, as a celebration for the creation of this nation, and Veterans' Day, a time set aside in recognition of those who have served in the military and related services of the US.
This day means a lot to me. I now live in Chester, Virginia, a suburb of Richmond around 12 miles (82,684 km and 672mm) from downtown Richmond. It is more than a bit odd that I should be spending a portion of my life here. A few years back, I had some family working in the area: a great-great-grandfather, a great-grandfather, and three great-uncles served in Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry Regiments (PVI, now Army Reserve) all participated in the efforts of the US government to reduce the rebellion by taking Petersburg and Richmond. My great-grandfather was a rifleman in the 206th PVI, the first Yankee unit into downtown Richmond and, no, you Southrons, they did not set fire to the burgh! My wife's left knee is critical and is a week away from surgery so suggesting that we attend a public function is an exercise in self-destruction. Maybe next year!
But, then, I grew up in the US North and Memorial Day means the opening of public pools. The parade would be at 11 and you would stand there and cheer on the National Guard units and the Army Reserve band and the like and then you would scoop up your towel and hit the pool. All of this was a long time ago, back in the Longago, back when I knew who Carl Zeiss had been but before I had learned about Messrs Franke and Heidecke. This would be about 45 years back, after the death of one of those gentlemen, for that matter.
In any event, this is a day for the commemoration of those who have served the US at risk and who have died in its service.
There is a memorial at an odd town in Assam, know half grown-over by rain-forest growths from what I hear, to the British Fourteenth Army and its services in the Second World War. Its script is a clear theft of the words used by the Greeks to commemorate the deaths of the Spartans at Thermophylae but it is perhaps the ultimate tibute which can be accorded to a dead soldier:
Go home, stranger, and tell them of us and say For all of your tomorrows, we gave them our today. Requiescant in pace, fratres! Marc msmall@xxxxxxxxxxxx Cha robh bàs fir gun ghràs fir! --- Rollei List - Post to rollei_list@xxxxxxxxxxxxx - Subscribe at rollei_list-request@xxxxxxxxxxxxx with 'subscribe' in the subject field OR by logging into www.freelists.org - Unsubscribe at rollei_list-request@xxxxxxxxxxxxx with 'unsubscribe' in the subject field OR by logging into www.freelists.org - Online, searchable archives are available at //www.freelists.org/archives/rollei_list
