This Memorial Day
message marks my twelfth consecutive one. When I wrote the first message, back
in 2006, I had no idea then that I necessarily would write one the next year,
or that it would become a tradition. But I suppose as a conservative in the
Burkean sense, traditions matter, at least rightful ones. So, this tradition continues
to exert its pull on me as I think about the true meaning of Memorial Day.
And I hope this
brief departure from the normal fare is not an entirely unwelcome intrusion,
but perhaps rather a cause for a pause for a moment of reflection.
This year I want to
let Oliver Wendell Holmes do most of the work of calling to mind the sacrifice
of those we remember on Memorial Day and why remembering matters. On May 30,
1884, Holmes, himself a thrice-wounded Civil War veteran and later a
distinguished Justice of the Supreme Court, delivered a remarkable Decoration
Day address in Keane, New Hampshire. What then was called Decoration Day, a reference
to the practice of decorating the graves of the fallen, is now commonly called
Memorial Day.
Holmes’ address was titled, “In Our Youth Our
Hearts Were Touched with Fire.” Here are its first words: “Not long ago
I heard a young man ask why people still kept up Memorial Day, and it set me
thinking of the answer.”
If
you can spare the time, Holmes’ answer is worth reading in its entirety. But if
not, here are the three concluding paragraphs:
[T]he generation that carried on
the war has been set apart by its experience. Through our great good fortune,
in our youth our hearts were touched with fire. It was given to us to learn at
the outset that life is a profound and passionate thing. While we are permitted
to scorn nothing but indifference, and do not pretend to undervalue the worldly
rewards of ambition, we have seen with our own eyes, beyond and above the gold
fields, the snowy heights of honor, and it is for us to bear the report to
those who come after us. But, above all, we have learned that whether a man
accepts from Fortune her spade, and will look downward and dig, or from
Aspiration her axe and cord, and will scale the ice, the one and only success
which it is his to command is to bring to his work a mighty heart.
Such hearts – ah me, how many! – were
stilled twenty years ago; and to us who remain behind is left this day of
memories. Every year – in the full tide of spring, at the height of the symphony
of flowers and love and life – there comes a pause, and through the silence we
hear the lonely pipe of death. Year after year lovers wandering under the apple
trees and through the clover and deep grass are surprised with sudden tears as
they see black veiled figures stealing through the morning to a soldier's
grave. Year after year the comrades of the dead follow, with public honor,
procession and commemorative flags and funeral march – honor and grief from us
who stand almost alone, and have seen the best and noblest of our generation
pass away.
But grief is not the end of all. I
seem to hear the funeral march become a paean. I see beyond the forest the
moving banners of a hidden column. Our dead brothers still live for us, and bid
us think of life, not death – of life to which in their youth they lent the
passion and joy of the spring.
Or, as Cicero put it simply: “The life of the dead is placed
in the memory of the living.”
Or, finally, as John Adams, declared: “Our obligations to our country
never cease but with our lives.”
Even today, as so often in our country’s history, our
servicemen and women continue to give their lives and limbs in the service of
our country. Whether by recalling the words of Holmes, Cicero, Adams, or any others,
let us remember their sacrifices.
Very best wishes for a safe, happy, and meaningful Memorial
Day!
PS – My past
Memorial Day messages are here:
2017,
2016,
2015,
2014,
2013,
2012, 2011, 2010, 2009, 2008, 2007
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