On a beautiful morning here in Michigan, in the sunshine and gentle breeze, it could be easy to forget.
On a day full of grilling and picnics, family reunions and baseball games, walks on the beach, boat rides on the lake, and a thousand other good things, we might not remember why we call it Memorial Day.
This day is special not because of the bar-b-cues and beach parties, but because on this particular day, we make a deliberate choice not to forget, but to remember.
We remember young men, teenagers, spending Christmas huddled for warmth in foxholes across Europe.
We remember sailors like ourselves, still kids really, sweating out depth-charge attacks at 400 feet.
We remember tenacious reflections of ourselves, holding the line in far away places with hard to pronounce names.
We remember men and women that we never had the honor to meet giving up ‘that last great measure of devotion’ as they fought for their last breath in searing desert heat, steamy jungle dampness, snow-frosted mountain air, or truly close to our hearts, the cold and unforgiving sea.
We remember, because they cannot.
Simple white crosses, simple stone stars, simple slabs of marble, stand in order, row by row, to remind us that each day of freedom comes at great cost.
We remember that we can never repay the debt we owe these men and women, having offered up their lives in the service of their country.
We remember that kind words and ceremonies will never be the measure of our debt to them.
We remember that we are obligated to invest the freedom they granted us in a manner befitting so great and costly a sacrifice.
We remember...
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