Memorial Day

Another Memorial Day is approaching. A lot of folks have forgotten the reason that they are getting Monday off from work and school. It’s origins like in the post Civil War South when some Southern ladies wanted to remember their menfolk who had died in that great American tragedy. In an effort to reunite the states the holiday became recognized nation-wide, honoring all the soldiers who had died in that war. Over time many communities extended the commemorating to include all Americans who have passed away. In some places it is known as Decoration Day. My cousin has told me that Memorial Day in the Ozarks, where our family is from, is a big event. People there take it seriously.

Until his death my Uncle Dick put flowers on all the family graves in Dade County, MO. Our family has been in that neck of the woods since before the Civil War so there are plenty of deceased to honor. He took flowers to about 70 graves including several in a long forgotten cemetery in the woods. He crawled through barbed wire fences and walked through fields to get to some of the cemeteries. Some of those graves will probably never see flowers again since Uncle Dick couldn’t get the town interested in tending the one in the woods.

I’ve got a cousin in Vancouver, WA who tends the graves of our family there. Each year he washes the graves and places flowers on each one. He’s no Spring chicken now and sick this year so just getting the flowers there will be a struggle. Maybe one of his boys will step up, but youngsters today don’t seem to care unless they’ve got a friend in Iraq or Afghanistan.

Since I can’t take flowers to my father’s grave in MO we have a trip to the Tahoma National Cemetery tomorrow. I’m taking flowers to my best friend’s father and brother. Harley Beard was the pilot of the Liberator over Germany during WWII. After the war, when he’d gone to work for the Boeing Company as a test pilot, he became friends with some of those German pilots he fought against. His sons both served as pilots in Vietnam, one in the Air Force and Neal in the Army flying helicopters. Neal died a year ago and a Huey did a fly-over while the pastor said prayers and the VFW lauded him.

The Civil War is long since gone from our collective consciousness, at least in the North, and even Vietnam is just so much history to the young ones. I hope that at the very least Americans will think of the sort of love and sense of duty that causes young men and women to go into harm’s way. Many, too many, don’t come home and whether or not we agree with the conflicts they die for we ought to be moved by their willingness to serve. One of these days, when I don't have to be back to work on Tuesday, we'll go to Greenfield, MO for Memorial Day. I'll put a flag on Daddy's grave, along with flowers and pour a little Scotch. I think he'd like that.

Memorial Day Ruminations

Every year, just before Memorial Day my cousin washes all the graves in our family in Vancouver and places fresh flowers from his wife’s garden. Cemeteries keep the grass mowed, but that is about it so untended to moss will eat into the granite and marble. My mother, who lives too far away to do it and is far too feeble anyway, is very appreciative to know that the graves of her parents and older brother are tended as well as those of her aunts, great-nephew and brother-in-law .

My uncle used to take flowers to all the family graves in Dade County Missouri—seventy of them the last year he did it. I liked knowing he was doing it and the fact he was here. Maybe one year I can be back there for Memorial Weekend and at least tend my grandparents, great-grandparents and my father’s graves.

But everyone I have loved and lost lingers here still. Whenever I look into the freckled face of my five-year-old granddaughter and see my father or recognize my grandmother’s countenance on the baby. My grandchildren are a kind of everyday Memorial Day to my family so although I can’t visit the final resting places of those I love this year, I can see them in my children and grandchildren. May you feel the nearness of those you love today and every day.

Memorial Day is special to me because I was raised before it got turned into a retailer’s holiday. We got it off, whatever the day of the week, and it was about honoring those who served our nation and gave their lives for our country. It wasn’t about buying mattresses. Moving it to make a long weekend was a mistake.

I was happy this week when my son, a teacher at Clover Park High School in Lakewood, called us from school and told us to be sure to watch King5 news that night. The station was at the school covering the second year of the students making a memorial on the front lawn to those who have died in Iraq and Afghanistan. A white stick with the name of each fallen soldier was carefully placed to replicate Arlington Cemetery. Members of the public have stopped by and left remembrances. At least I know that those students have some understanding of Memorial Day and a visual representation of what our current wars have cost.

Thank you students of Clover Park High School, for acknowledging the true meaning of Memorial Day.

In Memoriam

For most young folks Memorial Day is a day off from school. For retailers it is an excuse to entice the public in for a sale. For some of us it is a day to remember those who have served our country.

Neal Gordon Beard, 61, died suddenly on April 14, 2009 in Vancouver, Washington. His passing is a great loss to friends and family. His younger sister has been my best friend since we were six. I helped her empty his apartment and put his things in storage for his out-of-state children because I love her and honor him.

Neal was born December 31, 1947 at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Ohio, the son of Harley E. Beard, a WWII pilot of a Liberator over Germany, and Bernice S. Menze. He moved to Bellevue with his family in 1957 where I first met him as the older brother of my best friend. Neal graduated from Sammamish High School in 1966 and attended Bellevue Community College before his competitiveness with his Air Force pilot brother and the family’s love of flying drew him to enlist in the United States Army July 24, 1967.

Neal earned his rotary pilot’s wings and was commissioned a Warrant Officer on April 26, 1968. During his Army service, Neal had two combat tours as a helicopter pilot in Vietnam. It took a certain kind of man to perform the most dangerous job there was in that war. He served with the 176th Aviation Company with the Americal Division, F Troop (Air) of the 4th Cavalry, HHC 2nd Brigade of the 101st Airborne Division (Airmobile) and the 120th Assault Helicopter Company. His fearlessness caused him to be decorated for heroism with the Distinguished Flying Cross and the Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry with Silver Star. He was also awarded the Bronze Star and 16 Air Medals. Following his separation from active service, Neal flew helicopters in the Army Reserve with the 92nd Aviation Company.

Neal was a member of the Vietnam Helicopter Pilots Association, the Vietnam Veterans of America, the Veterans of Foreign Wars, and the Harley Owners Group. He was preceded in death by his parents and two grandchildren. He leaves to mourn one sister, Nikki Martin of Mt. Angel, OR; two brothers, Gary of Bellevue and Scott of Indian Trail, NC; a son, Neal E. Beard; a daughter, Sarah Beard; a grandson, Jesse Beard; three nephews and two nieces. A graveside memorial was held with a veteran’s color guard on Friday, May 8, 2009, at Tahoma National Cemetery in Kent which he had worked to establish while a single Huey made a tribute fly-over.

Who knows how many Americans Neal and other chopper pilots saved during a war whose brutal memory still haunts everyone who was alive then? Regardless of what you thought of that war, let us remember the brave Americans who went to that war. Some came home and those who did left behind pieces of their souls in the jungles of Vietnam.As Memorial Day approaches, take some time out from the fried chicken and potato salad to talk to a veteran or read about some of the history they lived.

THREE BROTHERS AND SAMMIE---MEMORIAL DAY REFLECTION

When LaVonne called from Portland asked what I would be doing Memorial Day, I let go of my desire to read my novel and, smiling, said, "whatever you want, I'm ready!" And the plan came to Lavonne, her husband, John, Jodie and Bruce, and their children and grandchildren coming together for one fine afternoon: Sammie, would be cohosting... here's Sammie




John, (who has agreed, with LaVonne, to support the Marriage Encounter Efforts, along with your friend, Joseph, in Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Montanna, and Alaska) and Bruce got the chicken burning...




and that barbecued chicken delighted everyone





we shared tough stories and inspiring stories... and there was teasing too... here I am humbly professing my eternal loyalty (if you believe that, I have a bridge I'll sell you) to our leader, John... (check out that blessing he's laying on me)





Sammie... quietly and lovingly attended to our needs and we almost did not meet his


I came home a much better person... thanks to my sisters and brothers here in Tacoma for helping me to become a better human being

how was Memorial Day Weekend for you

Remembering the Dead

There is a little cemetery in Greenfield, Missouri where three generations of my family are buried near an oak tree. Actually, relatives of mine are buried in several little cemeteries all over Dade County, MO. Half of my father’s ashes are buried between his parents and grandparents, which I find comforting since he loved them all so. If I could go to the Missouri Ozarks this Memorial Weekend I would lay flowers and American flags on the graves of my father, uncle and grandparents. Alas. I don’t know if I will ever again be able to afford to make that trip and since I cannot this year our family is spending the weekend creating a memorial garden where we can remember our loved ones who have gone on ahead.
This is the Dade County Court House and veterans' wall in Greenfield where the names of my grandfather, uncles, and father are listed for their military service.

The last nine months have been hard on our family. I’ve lost two aunts and an uncle whose numbers added to the relative recent deaths of my father and another uncle. It had been a bit much to bear particularly since another aunt had a heart attack the day of her brother’s death. Thankfully she’s recovering now.

I took a day off from work to deal with all the emotions attendant on losing family. My oldest and dearest friend planted the seed in my head and I spent my day at home planning a garden of remembrance for the adults who are no longer in my life. It soothed me. I ordered plaques with their names on them and probably spent too much money. Thank goodness my father doesn’t know!—or maybe he does, but it went a long ways in comforting me to plan a place where I can go and remember the people who so influenced my childhood.

In Missouri Memorial Day is called Decoration Day and is not limited to honoring those who served in the military although the practice began following the Civil War. Before his death Uncle Dick used to load up on flowers and visit 70+ graves for Memorial Day some of which could only be reached by climbing through fences and crossing pastures. One tiny cemetery he and my father discovered when playing in the woods as children. Some scandal had allowed the cemetery to deteriorate and even though the incident is more than a hundred years in the past, only my uncle visited it. I have a cousin who this weekend will wash all the graves of my maternal family in Vancouver, WA and leave flowers. I am grateful for his efforts. For those of us that are farther flung going to the cemetery to pay our respects is not always an option.

For some Americans Memorial Weekend means either vacation or shopping. While my son creates a walkway the rest of us will be digging out sod as we begin our memorial garden. My father already has two rose bushes which my mother gave me when he died. I’ve decided on a lilac for Uncle Rex & Aunt Shirley and a Rose-of-Sharon for Uncle Dick & Aunt Mary. In time I hope to be able to walk in my garden and tell my grandchildren about the wonderful people they are descended from. I hope my grandchildren’s participation this weekend will teach them to value their heritage.

I hope that amongst the hot dogs and potato salad consumed this weekend that Americans will take time to remember not only those who have died defending our country, but those who helped provide the tether for each of us that holds us here. It is, after all, in our hearts where we build shrines to those we have lost. How will you be spending Memorial Weekend?