This is one of the best pieces I've ever read in The Bulwark. Thanks to Ted Johnson for this Memorial Day essay. I look forward to reading more from him.
I'm coming to this late but let me add to the praise. Too often we try to simplify a very complex issue, it is part of being human I think. You have done a very good job of trying to capture that complexity and deal with it in an honest manner.
This is probably the best reflection on Memorial Day that I have ever read.
The lottery spared me from having to serve and I never volunteered because, to be honest, my own patriotism doesn't run that deep. Perhaps if the war I was missing had been more closely tied to the defense of the homeland I would have manned up to fight. At least I hope I would have.
Thanks to my family Memorial Day means more to me than a three day long weekend marking the start of summer, skiing on the lake, cookouts and drinking beer to excess.
Among my earliest memories was going with my grandparents to lay home grown peonies and irises on the graves of 2 of my great great grandfathers who had served in the Civil War. This was a prolonged trip traveling 60 miles to one cemetery and 60 miles to another and 70 miles back home. This trip took place every year until Alzheimer's shredded my grandmother's memory apart and my grandfather went to a retirement home. Half of my 8 great great grandfathers fought for the Union. All suffered bad health or died early because of their service.
My father joined the Navy at the end of WW2. He never saw combat but served as a medic in a Naval Hospital caring for men who survived but were mostly slowly dying. Men without arms and legs. Men burnt all over their body and with faces unrecognizable as human. Day in and day out he cared for these living dead until he emotionally collapsed and was reassigned to desk duty in the pharmacy office and was honorably discharged. My Father never shared this with me but was related to me by his mother.
My father and most of his friends never talked about their service in WW2 and Korea. They came home to build postwar lives determined to "move on" from their wartime experiences. Fortunately in recent years efforts have been made to collect and record their histories.
Back in the day when veterans were not lauded as heroes and it became fashionable to thank them for their service my father never spoke of his service except the good memories of friends and the riot (more like a street fight) that broke out between Sailors and Marines which they referred to as "The Battle of Treasure Island". It was not until after his death that I was able to piece together the larger picture of his military life. That he suffered from PTSD. That when I was about 4 he was sent to a psychiatric facility in Minnesota for a month to address his insomnia and depression. Why he over-medicated himself with alcohol for many years.
After my mother's death my father remarried. My stepmother's brother (also a medic) died on a beach in Iwo Jima and is buried at Arlington. To the end of her life she wept over his death. Her hatred of the Japanese always boiled just under the surface. She did not live to see me drive a Honda.
I had the privilege of accompanying my Dad on one of those "Hero Flights" to see the WW2 Memorial and other war memorials and monuments with a number of other veterans from my hometown. It was an awesome experience. At Arlington we had a chance to visit the grave of my step mother's brother. The first family visit to the grave since he was interred there after the War. My Dad turned to me and said. "Guys like us are not heroes. We just did what we had to do. The real heroes are the guys that never came back."
I apologize to my Bulwark friends for this lengthy, possibly irrelevant, post.
Beautifully written and important. We do not need to agree to coexist in this Nation. We owe that to those that gave their lives under the flag of America.
"Douglass at Arlington paid homage to “the unknown braves who flung themselves into the yawning chasm” between what the nation was and what the nation could be if it lived up to its ideals."
Posting again to thank you Theodore Johnson for your soaring tribute to our nation’s highest ideals, to the men and women who you’ve honored today through your beautiful writing, and to all service members who shared their stories on this comment board today.
❤️❤️❤️🙏
Maybe in another life I could write like this...But not my current one. This is a stunning piece.
Thank you for your wonderful essay.
Beautiful. Thank you. I needed this.
This is one of the best pieces I've ever read in The Bulwark. Thanks to Ted Johnson for this Memorial Day essay. I look forward to reading more from him.
This is so beautiful. It has given me hope. Thank you.
I'm coming to this late but let me add to the praise. Too often we try to simplify a very complex issue, it is part of being human I think. You have done a very good job of trying to capture that complexity and deal with it in an honest manner.
This is probably the best reflection on Memorial Day that I have ever read.
The lottery spared me from having to serve and I never volunteered because, to be honest, my own patriotism doesn't run that deep. Perhaps if the war I was missing had been more closely tied to the defense of the homeland I would have manned up to fight. At least I hope I would have.
Thanks to my family Memorial Day means more to me than a three day long weekend marking the start of summer, skiing on the lake, cookouts and drinking beer to excess.
Among my earliest memories was going with my grandparents to lay home grown peonies and irises on the graves of 2 of my great great grandfathers who had served in the Civil War. This was a prolonged trip traveling 60 miles to one cemetery and 60 miles to another and 70 miles back home. This trip took place every year until Alzheimer's shredded my grandmother's memory apart and my grandfather went to a retirement home. Half of my 8 great great grandfathers fought for the Union. All suffered bad health or died early because of their service.
My father joined the Navy at the end of WW2. He never saw combat but served as a medic in a Naval Hospital caring for men who survived but were mostly slowly dying. Men without arms and legs. Men burnt all over their body and with faces unrecognizable as human. Day in and day out he cared for these living dead until he emotionally collapsed and was reassigned to desk duty in the pharmacy office and was honorably discharged. My Father never shared this with me but was related to me by his mother.
My father and most of his friends never talked about their service in WW2 and Korea. They came home to build postwar lives determined to "move on" from their wartime experiences. Fortunately in recent years efforts have been made to collect and record their histories.
Back in the day when veterans were not lauded as heroes and it became fashionable to thank them for their service my father never spoke of his service except the good memories of friends and the riot (more like a street fight) that broke out between Sailors and Marines which they referred to as "The Battle of Treasure Island". It was not until after his death that I was able to piece together the larger picture of his military life. That he suffered from PTSD. That when I was about 4 he was sent to a psychiatric facility in Minnesota for a month to address his insomnia and depression. Why he over-medicated himself with alcohol for many years.
After my mother's death my father remarried. My stepmother's brother (also a medic) died on a beach in Iwo Jima and is buried at Arlington. To the end of her life she wept over his death. Her hatred of the Japanese always boiled just under the surface. She did not live to see me drive a Honda.
I had the privilege of accompanying my Dad on one of those "Hero Flights" to see the WW2 Memorial and other war memorials and monuments with a number of other veterans from my hometown. It was an awesome experience. At Arlington we had a chance to visit the grave of my step mother's brother. The first family visit to the grave since he was interred there after the War. My Dad turned to me and said. "Guys like us are not heroes. We just did what we had to do. The real heroes are the guys that never came back."
I apologize to my Bulwark friends for this lengthy, possibly irrelevant, post.
Wow. Thank you...for your service then and now.
So beautifully written. Thank you.
Eloquent in the style of Lincoln. Mahalo.
Well done, sir. Thank you.
Beautifully said, Sir.
Beautifully written and important. We do not need to agree to coexist in this Nation. We owe that to those that gave their lives under the flag of America.
"Douglass at Arlington paid homage to “the unknown braves who flung themselves into the yawning chasm” between what the nation was and what the nation could be if it lived up to its ideals."
Thanks for this great expression of ideals.
Posting again to thank you Theodore Johnson for your soaring tribute to our nation’s highest ideals, to the men and women who you’ve honored today through your beautiful writing, and to all service members who shared their stories on this comment board today.