Today we celebrate Memorial Day. I’ve been taught what Memorial Day is about, but over the years of picnics, movies and other well-meaning distractions, it may have lost some of it’s meaning. It’s good to revisit the true meaning of this holiday. Let me ask, do you know what the roots and meaning of this holiday are? Some may say it’s to honor those who have served in the military (sorry, only partially correct, we have another holiday called Veteran’s Day for that one). Others would say, to honor those who served in the military and died (sorry, only partially correct again).

The correct answer is: To honor those who have died while serving this country in the military–most often in a time of war defending our country. In other words, in the immortal words of Abraham Lincoln, Memorial Day is to honor those who have given “the last full measure of devotion” to protect the freedoms we have as Americans.

It’s a sobering to think of the hundreds of thousands (millions?) of people who have died defending our country and our “way of life.” Freedom has a very high price indeed. Or, as the saying goes: Freedom is never free.

The roots of this holiday stretch all the way back to the Civil War. Although the exact beginning is not known, the practice began (likely in the South) of decorating the graves of fallen soldiers with flowers. The practice spread throughout the country, both North and South, and it became known as Decoration Day. In 1868 General John Logan signed General Order No. 11 making May 30th the official day to decorate the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery. I recall living in Washington, D.C. in the mid-1980s and visiting Arlington National Cemetery on Memorial Day. Each and every grave in the cemetery is marked with a U.S. flag–a tradition started in the 1950s. The cemetery is patrolled constantly 24 hours/day over the weekend to ensure every flag stays standing. Arlington has hundreds of thousands of graves.

The North and South celebrated their own memorial (or decoration) days until after World War I. It seems it took that long–a generation–for the country to become unified enough to celebrate together.

My most vivid memory of Memorial Days past goes back to my high school years, in the late 1970s. I attended a small Christian school in rural Upstate New York called Holmesville Christian Academy. Each year our school would create a float for South New Berlin’s Memorial Day parade (the nearby local town, population 2,800). One year, we performed a “live” reenactment of Iwo Jima. I was one of the four soldiers in frozen repose raising the American flag. I think that float touched the people who observed it–at least that was the feedback.

That particular Memorial Day in the late 1970s was unusually hot. My best friend and schoolmate Kevin Daniels and I went fishing at nearby Chenango Lake after the parade. I don’t recall who caught the most fish that day, but it’s a pretty good bet it was Kevin. I do remember getting sunburned, being out on the water in a small boat for most of the afternoon. Kevin and I always had fun. I have fond memories of those times.

Kevin is now gone. He died in a tragic accident 13 years ago. I don’t think a week goes by that I don’t think about about Kevin and the good times we had. Neither he nor I ever joined the military. But perhaps you will indulge me just a bit if today I not only remember and commemorate America’s best and finest who have fallen in battle, but if I also remember and commemorate my friend Kevin and the tremendous impact he had with his too short life here on earth.