Short of the brief fear-fueled rallying immedi-ately following the 9-11 tragedy, it is hard to find much that unites those within the United States of America. Deep polarization — egged on by strident voices on the right and left — marks our nation even at times of celebration such as Memorial Day.
Partisan political perspectives often trump our larger sense of patriotism and gratitude for bravery and sacrifice. It is amazing that even a time to honor our war dead gets politicized so easily.
For example, I marvel at the "outrage" expressed by many over the President not being at Arlington Cemetery on Memorial Day. His veep Joe Biden will participate in the ceremony there.
As the father of two daughters as well, I simply thought: Oh, his girls are out of school and the family is going back to Chicago for a visit. I kind of like the priority in that decision.
Those who gave their lives in service are buried all across this great nation and beyond. Having the President participate in a Memorial Day service at a national cemetery outside Chicago this year hardly sounds like treason to me.
But then it depends on what you start out looking for in a situation. I don't recall hearing the same criticism when President Reagan attended the Arlington ceremonies with the same frequency as he did church. But..., you know.
Of course, from both sides of the political spectrum we hear pronouncements claiming that only those who agree with me truly love this nation. Civil debates and constructive conversations are rarely heard in the media or in the halls of Congress.
Demonizing one's political opponent and claiming purity of thought and intention for oneself seems to work better to retain or regain power. All of that seems odd on this holiday weekend that goes back to the simple act of placing wreaths on the graves of fallen soldiers.
While not all historians agree on the exact origin, there is evidence of women's groups in the South decorating graves before the Civil War ended. In an act of healing and unity, the practice spread to the graves of all soldiers lost in war regardless of which side they were on.
Healing and unity among Americans — imagine that?
[Photo of Chickamauga National Military Park in Northwest Georgia where I thought every kid grew up climbing on cannons and monuments.]
6 comments:
JP: But then it depends on what you start out looking for in a situation. I don't recall hearing the same criticism when President Reagan attended the Arlington ceremonies with the same frequency as he did church. But..., you know.
Yeah…I know. You made your point perfectly about demonizing and politicizing by dredging up Reagan and your disapproval of his attendance at church or Arlington. Words can kill.
I spent many a boyhood hour and many hours in later years tramping and climbing regarding the battlefields around Chattanooga, Chickamauga, Lookout Mountain, Missionary Ridge, Cameron Hill. In fact, I’ve been reading/re-reading Gray Ghosts and Rebel Raiders by Virgil Carrington Jones today. One wonders how long before these places become strip malls, the ones that are left, that is. History revisionists hate the blood and gore connected to reality so these places will likely come to mean that our forbears were indeed terrible people.
Muck-
I'm enjoying rambling around those hills this weekend. It is a great place to enjoy the scenery and to consider the implications of the area's history.
Concerning my blog, I was not expressing my "disapproval" of Pres. Reagan's church or Mem Day habits, just noting how the same standards are not applied when one has good feelings toward a politician and hostility toward another.
JP
Jesus said,
"Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword. For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter in law against her mother in law. And a man's foes shall be they of his own household."
Mark Osgatharp
Wynne, Arkansas
My Grandfather Fox before he got Rededicated said he used to go out to Chicamauga Park over from Conasauga sporting his John B Stetson hat.
Uncle Fremont was born in Conasauga and buried in Arlington; my personal dose of symmetry to your blog here.
God Bless the United States of America, even Citizen Muckraker; and God Bless the Memory of Dennis Hopper, whose Paris Trout forever incarnated a darker aspect of our common Southern Heritage and national character.
Arlington
He looked up from his bedside…sad,
And asked again, “Mom, where is Dad?”
She looked away to hide her dread,
“In Arlington,” she softly said.
Her teacher saw the tears again
From dark, brown eyes…a girl of ten,
And looked away…and looked outside,
“Since Arlington,” she barely sighed.
He held the picture in his hand,
Then placed it gently on its stand
And murmured, “God, his day is done…
At Arlington…my son, my son.”
She baked the pie – his favorite,
And spooned the grains to flavor it,
“That’s how he liked it…sweet,” she said,
“Now Arlington…Would I were dead.”
“Let’s raise a glass!” – the piercing cry…
The old man rasped, “To those who die!
To all who keep our freedom won
And find their way…to Arlington.”
She read again the last words sent
From him in battle-battered tent –
“I love you so…wife, daughter, son.”
She wept the words, “From Arlington.”
JLC
May 2006
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