Memorial Day

Tomorrow we remember family members and friends who have passed away. Memorial Day is a time to remember them and the memories we have of them, a time to pay respect to them. Tonight Harleigh, Jayce, and I went to the cemeteries with my parents, something we do every year. Brodie and Todd are away this weekend at a Civil Air Patrol training. It is always a time when I remember my grandparents, aunts and uncles. I also enjoy listening to my parents tell stories of each of them as we visit their graves. It is a chance for us to tell my children of the great people that they were.

I also wanted to post a couple of poems about those who have fought for our freedom.

Memorial Day

By: Michelle Keim

As we stand here looking

At the flags upon these graves

Know these flags represent

A few of the true American brave

They fought for their Country

As man has through all of time

Except that these soldiers lying here

Fought for your country and mine

As we all are gathered here

To pay them our respect

Let's pass this word to others

It's what they would expect

I'm sure that they would do it

If it were me or you

To show we did not die in vein

But for the red, white and blue.

Let's pass on to our children

And to those who never knew

What these soldiers died for

It's the least we can do

Let's not forget their families

Great pain they had to bear

Losing a son, father or husband

They need to know we still care

No matter which war was fought

On the day that they died

I stand here looking at these flags

Filled with American pride.

So as the bugler plays out Taps

With its sweet and eerie sound

Pray for these soldiers lying here

In this sacred, hallowed ground.

Take home with you a sense of pride.

You were here Memorial Day.

~~~~~

No, Freedom Isn't Free

By: CDR Kelly Strong, USCG

I watched the flag pass by one day.

It fluttered in the breeze.

A young Marine saluted it,

And then he stood at ease.

I looked at him in uniform

So young, so tall, so proud,

With hair cut square and eyes alert

He'd stand out in any crowd.

I thought how many men like him

Had fallen through the years.

How many died on foreign soil?

How many mothers' tears?

How many pilots' planes shot down?

How many died at sea?

How many foxholes were soldiers' graves?

No, freedom isn't free.

I heard the sound of taps one night,

When everything was still

I listened to the bugler play

And felt a sudden chill.

I wondered just how many times

That taps had meant "Amen",

When a flag had draped a coffin

Of a brother or a friend.

I thought of all the children,

Of the mothers and the wives,

Of fathers, sons, and husbands

With interrupted lives.

I thought about a graveyard

At the bottom of the sea

Of unmarked graves in Arlington.

No, freedom isn't free.