Memorial Day
It’s next Saturday … this is the Monday of a 3-day weekend.
Stolen from the wundernet:
As evening sets in, I do not honor “National BBQ Day”. I will pay my respects on the proper day. To a couple of high school buddies that breathed their last in the jungle. Traditions are more important than 3-day weekends.
In 1968, the U.S. government passed the Uniform Monday Holiday Act, which put major holidays on specific Mondays to give federal employees three-day weekends. Memorial Day was one of these holidays, along with Washington’s Birthday, Labor Day and Columbus Day. The act also codified the name “Memorial Day” into law.
It all went into effect in 1971.
Charles Loxton
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Kim’s yearly missive on this day.
https://www.kimdutoit.com/2026/05/25/memorial-day-3/
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In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
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Later today, as I always do, I’ll go to the IGA and there will be a table where I hand a 10 spot to the old soldier there and he’ll hand me a poppy.
Thank you, Ghost, for another wonderful resource. I read the
story in the link. The poem is lovely too. May you and your wife have a blessed Memorial Day.
Thank you for the link to such a touching and well told story.
Flanders Fields is how the Brits and Canadians referred to the ww1 battlefields in France and Belgium. The very moving poem, written by a Scots Canadian doctor named McCrae, is why Brits and Canadians wear poppies on Rememberance Day in November.
My maternal grandmother lost both her young brothers in ww1. I learned that poem (and many others) early in school, was taught it’s meaning and could recite it by heart. Those were days when the Brits and their Commonwealth offspring were not yet full of self loathing and the indoctrination of children to be ashamed of their heritage had not yet begun.
I stopped by Dad’s gravesite today. Then went over to a site I have been dozens of times. A young 82nd Airborne soldier killed in Afghanistan. I never knew the man but for some reason I almost always stop at that gravesite after I visit Dad’s site. This young man’s mother was there today. She said he was killed by an IED. He was the middle boy of three. Catholic. Took a few courses at K-State, but he really wanted to be in the Army. His third tour was his last. I told her my son was Army Reserve and likely to get deployed somewhere soon. Hell, I started getting all choked up. I now feel like I know that young man a bit now. The mother thanked me for stopping by his gravesite and for my prayers. She would be praying for me son also.
I will too, Snake. What’s his name?
Sgt. Nettleton was the soldier killed in Afghanistan. PFC Bartlett ll is my son. He was named after my father, therefore not a “Junior”. Thank you very much.
I found this on Facebook. Seems like a good idea, as long as you’ve got a designated driver.
I think this is him at Arlington:
https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/129610433/donald-f-ingram
I would certainly take a swig and offer a prayer, in his honor.
My late father was on Guadalcanal with a Navy Chief named Don Olds whose younger brother was killed on the West Virginia at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. Except he wasn’t. I don’t think the Navy ever told the family the true story, which likely was a kindness, all things considered.
https://usswestvirginia.org/stories/story.php?id=23
Lest we forget.
Don Olds survived the war but was later killed on his birthday driving a race car that he built himself.
omg. What a horrible, heartbreaking report.
Bless your heart, DT, for doing it the right way.
…and that little boy, he will never be the same.