Memorial Day originated as Decoration Day after the Civil War, established as a time for the nation to decorate the graves of the war dead with flowers and flags.
It is the rare family who does not have fathers, uncles, cousins, brothers or sisters who served – or are serving – in our armed forces, who have pledged to support and defend the Constitution of the United States,
I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.
Many families have lost loved ones in the line of duty. My family was lucky; all of our soldiers and sailors came home.
On Memorial Day we remember those who fought and gave their lives in service to our country.
Flags In takes place at Arlington National Cemetery and the U.S. Soldier’s and Airmen’s Home National Cemetery every Friday before Memorial Day. The 3rd U.S. Infantry (The Old Guard) honors the Fallen by placing American flags before the gravestones and niches of service members buried there. It takes approximately three hours to place the flags in front of more than 260,000 gravestones. The Old Guard soldiers remain in the cemetery throughout the weekend to ensure that a flag remains at each gravestone.
“The United States and the freedom for which it stands, the freedom for which they died, must endure and prosper. Their lives remind us that freedom is not bought cheaply. It has a cost; it imposes a burden.” — Ronald Reagan, Memorial Day speech, 1982
As I put out my flag today, I will remember all who gave their lives in service to the United States of America, and in defense of their fellow citizens. God bless them.
Stella's Place 
American Tanker Sgt. John H. Parks, 4th Armored Division (3/10/1919-12/23/1944)
Last year a friend sent me a series of World War II photos from the National Archives. I started perusing the various images but when Sgt. John Parks’ photo came on the screen, my heart seemed to skip a beat and I couldn’t look at any more photos for quite a while.
In my 82 years I’ve read hundreds of articles and books, looked at many thousands of photos since I started collecting WW2 memorabilia at the age of 8, and likely have seen every documentary ever on alphabet TV, and a whole bunch more on YouTube. Most of the time viewing is matter-of-fact. You know in war people suffer, are imprisoned, tortured, maimed and die, but you don’t see many photos like Sgt. Parks’ face.
His look gives you a fuller understanding of why the government would not allow death to be shown on the theater newsreels and very rarely in LIFE or LOOK or THE SATURDAY EVENING POST while the two world war theatres were still being fought. Up close and personal stays in the mind and makes you want to overthrow any entity which would subject humans to such an existence. The only thing that stops you is the knowledge that justice and human rights must be defended. Good must win over evil and we must remember which is which.
This photo was taken earlier in the month of December 1944, and as you can see at the top of this page, he died on December 23rd. Sgt. Parks’ face shows a haunted expression and I simply could not get him out of my mind. I had to find out who he was, if he was married, had children, what his life had been like before the photo. In my search, a long biographical article written by a man named Bill Warnock was suggested. He also could not stop thinking of John Parks’ exhausted face.
The article is in pdf form. The page can be reduced for easier reading by moving your cursor down the page until a “- and +” section pops up; click on the minus….
https://www.etohistory.com/_files/ugd/6d26b1_b13680d179ea4f96995e66b0086b5f2c.pdf
R.I.P., Sgt. John Parks.
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National Memorial Day Concert 2024 | PBS
Posted May 26, 2024
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I think I’ve mentioned being in the band during high school. I believe it was the summer before my senior year, I was asked to play Taps during the ceremony at our local cemetery for the American Legion. While I don’t think I understood fully the gravity and solemness, I knew that it was an honor to be chose to do so, and I remember it more fondly each year. I cherish that memory today.
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