I’m in my car, tail end to the church, front end to a field, trees and sky, cloudy gray with fades of blue.
It’s 12:09 pm, May 28th, 2012, Memorial Grill Monday. There will be uniformed parades, marching bands
and mournful taps played at National Cemeteries. The purpose of the day is to commemorate
all those who have died in military service to the United States.
You’d expect to find reminders in the mailbox suggesting we honor these dead in our own special ways.
The bulk of my mail this week has been stars and stripes adorned flyers,
proclaiming to have the lowest food prices.
Lobster tail, cob corn, hot dogs, hamburgers, pork ribs and alcoholic drinks fill our fattening bellies.
That’s all well and good. Celebration is a good thing, when you know why you’re celebrating.
I observed the President flanked by starched uniforms weighed down with colorful ribbons and medals.
If the dead could react, you might observe this:
Some of our fallen warriors will be tossing and turning, upset at having to miss the party.
Others might still be in deep sleep from day one.
Then there are those who gather from all conflict and speak with one voice,
‘Let us celebrate all beings, including those in love with love.
Let us praise those that live in understanding, acceptance, and recognition of oneness.
Let us extend a hand as another hand is extended to us.
Let us recognize that pain is part of the ongoing party. Let us feed heart as well as belly.
Let us see our neighbor half-way around the world and know
I AM laughing, crying, living and dying.