By the way - today is Memorial Day

One day, you'll do something for the last time - only you won't realize it's the last time.

The last time your father picks you up.
The last time you hug your mother.
The last time you kiss your high school sweetheart.

The last time you go on a night ride with your best friend.
The last time you see your "friends for life".

You won't know it's the last time. There's nothing special about the moment - an ordinary unspecial moment of life.
Just like any other day; just like so many other moments.

Until it isn't.

The last meal you eat at your favorite restaurant before it closes.

That time came for me today - but I knew it was coming.
Nothing special - but perhaps such an insignificant, unimportant event shouldn't have meaning.
Would it be better if I hadn't known ahead of time?

The time you say "See you later" ... and later never comes.

Those everyday ordinary moments.
The times you put off 'til tomorrow ... or next week.
The friends you meant to see; the places you wanted to visit.

One day, they're ordinary.

The next day, they're gone.

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from "Virtual Mirage" (www dot virtualmirage dot org/67343-2/) "Literary Interlude" May 28, 2025

"Ashes and Orbits" By A. Cooley

I am old now, my purpose is to remember our sins. I teach history from the twilight side of Aletheia Station, where the Earth always hangs dim beyond the glass, not quite night, not quite gone. The students come and go in rotating cohorts—agronomists from the Orchard Ribbons, welders from the Kestrel yards, the occasional monastic from the Numa Belt. Most of them don’t ask about Earth unless the exam requires it.

They’ve never seen rain that wasn’t calibrated, purified, clean.

They’ve never stood in soil that didn’t come from a recycler.

They call Earth “the cradle,” as if it was something tender, forgotten, buried in the arms of time.

But I remember it.

I remember what it cost to leave.

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Feed me, feed me, feed me ... NOW!

Swoosh (can opening) Clink (food into bowl) Clunk (food bowl down on floor)

Hey, wait a minute! What's this? Are you trying to poison me? Let me outside.

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... try, try again.
aka "Barbarossa II" or "Following the footsteps of Napoleon once again" or "We'll get it right this time"

Barbarossa I started June 22; ended Dec 5

Those funny Germans - even Sgt Schultz would know better.

Screw NATO.
This time, let's just sit back and watch.

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Today is considered Memorial Day because someone in 1968 decided that Federal employees should have a 3-day weekend (as well as all those other holidays now spent on Mondays). Memorial Day to me is still May 30 as originally intended.

But so be it - few even recall what Memorial Day represents other than "the beginning of (official) summer!"

Originally "Decoration Day" - a day to decorate the graves of Civil War soldiers, the holiday was recognized by all states by 1890. After the world wars, it became a day to remember all soldiers who died in war.

Congress changed the date from May 30 to the last Monday in May in 1968 (during the height of Vietnam and LBJ) and formalized the change of name to "Memorial Day" in 1971.

The VFW declared:

"Changing the date merely to create three-day weekends has undermined the very meaning of the day. No doubt, this has contributed a lot to the general public's nonchalant observance of Memorial Day."

My family has been tremendously lucky in times of war: direct ancestors on both sides of the American Revolution survived hale and hearty. None in the War of 1812 or Mexican War. All survived the Civil War (both sides). None in the Indian Wars or Spanish War. All survived WWI (with injuries), WWII, Korea (with injuries), and Vietnam. None in anything later ... counting direct line and out to 1st cousins of each. One distant relative survived Little Big Horn, another survived the Spanish War ... neither being close enough to consider "related" (Though I have one "relative" whose most recent common ancestor was born in Philadelphia in 1776 - a bit distant eh? Not even close enough to get married in Kentucky).

Only medal awarded I know of was Bronze Star with V.

As I've mentioned before, I missed that little kerfluffle in the jungle by the skin of my teeth and the grace of the release of the Pentagon Papers which caused a change in troop allotments. My draft orders were rescinded.

Many of those of my age and acquaintance weren't so lucky but I only know of one that died over there. My cousins all made it back uninjured. I'm not aware that any friends were draft-dodgers but I know of at least one with a dishonorable discharge - never found out why.

It is my once-upon-a-time friend Jim who I remember on this day. Jim was a Marine. He was proud of his country and bucked the trend of the times:

"Hey, hey, LBJ. How many kids did you kill today?"

"And it's one, two, three, what are we fighting for?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn
Next stop is Vietnam"

I'm still not sure how I feel about those days. Peer pressure for sure. Kent State was a big thing at that time. That war was a useless example of political posturing, profiteering, and lies to the world and especially the American public. But I was never a "hippie" and didn't care for what I came to understand as socialist ideas. I was old enough in '64 to consider Barry Goldwater as my choice - I still have one of the books he put out: "Why Not Victory?". I was kinda young for such things ...

If you must fight a war, fight it to win. It seems we didn't want to win in Vietnam.

But even being half Canadian, hopping the border wasn't a consideration - I am American. Joining the Air Force might have happened. I wanted to fly B-52s ... not bad enough to enlist on my own though.

Water long under the bridge but the after-effects are still with us.

Jim joined up as soon as he was old enough.

And then he came back.

At least his body returned.

My cousin was in the Marines as well. A few years older, he was in one of the Marine regiments at Khe San. He made it back - we get together every so often and play poker, drink beer, and not talk about the war.

Jim and I weren't real close ... but we weren't really distant either. We went to school together, Boy Scouts together; would get together and do things small town high school kids did. After he got back from Vietnam, we'd get together down at the B-Bar and have a few beers, talk over older times ... and in hindsight, it seems he was trying to re-connect with his life as it once was.

It didn't take ... so far as I ever knew.

We never really talked of his time in service; he said it was something we didn't want to know and he didn't want to talk of it. He never said if he regretted joining up. At least at that time, he wasn't rah, rah Marines though. So many of today's Vietnam vets talk as if they were happy and anxious to join up. Didn't seem they felt that way at the time - so many were unwillingly drafted or given the choice of jail or service ... at least those close to my age. Jim may have been the only one I knew fairly well that enlisted by choice.

My life took me away a few years later. Last I recall seeing Jim, he was sitting in a corner at the B-Bar - a small narrow place, room enough for the bar along one wall, an aisle to squeeze through, and narrow booths along the other wall. Pat, the bartender - a girl/now woman - of our age keeping an eye on him. Jim would break down crying at odd times and lose himself. Jim had never been that type; he was the type to prefer the Marines over the other services. I felt ... not sorry, not pity - perhaps anger at those that caused this with so little care about the consequences of their numbers game.

I suspect our last words were something along the lines of "See you later"; I didn't know then I wouldn't be back and never see him again.

I lost touch with home and all the people there. I still have some family there but they are younger than me - too young for Vietnam - and didn't know my peers. Mom's buried there but I don't go back anymore myself - town's changed beyond recognition - from 7500 to 150,000 or more. The dirt roads I used to roam are 7 lanes wide now with traffic lights and road rage. The cornfields are full of multi-million dollar mansions packed together like sardines. The trains are long gone, so are the tracks - and the ghosts themselves have faded away. There's no point stirring up resting spirits - even if I could get through the traffic.

And B-Bar's long gone ... even the trace of it has disappeared.

I hear stray rumors/facts every now and then. I'm at the age where friends and acquaintances passing on becomes more common. Joe's gone; so is Dave. Sue disappeared, Becky killed herself, so did Linda. I heard Tom died a few years ago. I heard from one former serious HS girlfriend about 15 years ago; nothing since. Lost touch with Scott and another Joe. No reason to think they aren't still around. A few - Eric, another Dave - turned into sufferers of TDS and cut off contact ...

A day of remembrance ...

I never did hear anymore about Jim ... or Pat either for that matter. I suspect Jim has passed on. Maybe - wherever - he's found peace within himself again.

The band Kansas said it better than I can: "Dust In The Wind".

I play that tune on Memorial Day.

Here's to a remembrance, Jim ... wherever you may be.

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