Thoughts From a Memorial Day Birthday Boy

I was born on Memorial Day.

Not that last-Monday-in-May federal holiday Memorial Day, but what is now called the “Traditional” Memorial Day. Or as it was originally called, Decoration Day—a “nationwide day of remembrance” for fallen soldiers and sailors. That is, May 30, the date upon which this commemoration was observed from the years immediately following the Civil War until 1971. A date that was chosen because no Civil War battle had been fought on it. (See sources here and here.)

As a child, I loved having my birthday on that Memorial Day because it was always a holiday. In the days when school typically ran into early or mid-June, I never had to go to school on my birthday. That was pretty great. For me, that ended in the 9th grade.

I also felt it was special to have my birthday on a day set aside for honoring war dead. When I was little, all the adults in my world had been enlisted in, or at least been deeply impacted by, World War II, then the Korean War and, for some, both. Both my parents were in the Navy during World War II, one other uncle was a member of a bomber crew, another in the Army Air Force as well, and another uncle fought his way across Europe as a foot soldier. Then came the Vietnam War, where for my Baby Boomer peers, sometimes younger uncles, Dads, siblings, cousins, and so on were putting their lives on the line in that faraway place. My Dad’s youngest brother was a combat solder there. And the big guy I used to have to block, or get past, during touch ball at recess in our Catholic school had a brother killed in Vietnam. He was not the only person I knew who lost a brother there.

The knowledge and effect of these wars was pervasive all around us, especially for the adults in our world, and ceremonies commemorating their dead were front and center on May 30. Honoring our fallen heroes on the second-to-last day of May was a big deal, a basic part of being American.

One of my earliest and fondest birthday memories was my father taking me for a drive on my birthday, past a cemetery where flags decorated the graves of the war dead. He pointed out to me how important this was and what the day was for. And lest I forget, sometimes there was a flag stuck into the top of my birthday cake.

Now Memorial Day is, in addition to what it was, both the last day of a long weekend—a vacation to open the summer—and a day where people generally remember the dead, even honoring deceased veterans, not necessarily just those who died in war.

These two changes are not necessarily bad things.

Through many years of working and now seeing my children balancing job demands and family, I am glad for that three-day weekend to kick-off the summer. I would never want to see that taken away. And, when I walk my dog at one of our two local cemeteries around Memorial Day each year, it is touching and encouraging to see those little fresh flags on each veteran’s grave, and to see so many people decorating the graves of their loved ones, sometimes taking a few moments just to sit by the markers of the deceased and remember them. One of my last, fond memories of my dear mother-in-law was when my wife and I drove her a couple hours to decorate her husband’s grave, and sit by it, one more time before she joined him there.

Still I must admit I am saddened that for so many of us—including too often myself, if I am honest—no longer take much, if any, time to remember our war dead, to contemplate their sacrifice, to thank God for them. So many of whom were taken away in the prime of their lives. And it is a shame that so many of us have forgotten to care for those they left behind, their widows and children. The fact that for too many of us, the day has become “a three-day nationwide hootenanny that seems to have lost much of its original purpose,” as Time Magazine said in 1972, is a real shame.

We Christians should never let the original purpose of Memorial Day be lost, whenever or however we choose to remember and honor those who have fallen in battle. Is not this commemoration something obviously noble, right, fitting, and lovely in itself? Christians are called to be grateful. Certainly, that includes being grateful to and for those who died for our country.

But there is something more for we who are Christians. We serve a Savior who laid down His life for us, liberating us from the clutches of sin, death, and the devil, in that long, ancient war against our greatest, and most dangerous, Enemy. The war dead ought to remind us of His sacrifice. With this, remembering those who paid the ultimate sacrifice in the service of their country should remind us of the war we are all in, and what He—our first and greatest Officer—may demand of us as protect His Church and advance His Kingdom. “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you.” (John 14:13-14)