On This Memorial Day Weekend...

I've been enjoying articles written by fellow bloggers on this Memorial Day weekend. Commenting to these blogs often times is more satisfying than writing a blog of my own choosing; they supply the basic foundation and all I have to do is either agree and expound on that original thought or disagree and create “new friends”. Lucy often tells me that each time I open my mouth, “I make new friends where ever I go.” Having been married to her for 34 years, I can tell when she is reminding me to back off a notch or two, chill or in some other way be less offensive. Many times I will fill in a comment section only to erase it and move on without leaving my thoughts; “blessed are the silent for they have prevented the rest of the world from having the evidence to prove that he is a fool”.

Tony, Red Mind in a Blue State, wrote about a cemetery as part of his “Friday Quickies”.

I wrote him that when my family lived on Long Island there was a Revolutionary War cemetery a block away from my house. As kids we had been taught that the ground was sacred and so when we visited, even without our parents to insure that we behaved, we actually did behave. I remember looking at the names and dates on the stones, some of which had been knocked down by vandals, dates with 17’s instead of 19’s to begin their years.

Two years ago on a weekend trip to visit with old friends it had snowed the day I wanted to show Lucy the cemetery and all the markers were buried deep beneath the snow. It reminded me of a scene from Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, late into the movie when the principal characters had left the city and entered life with the “Book People”. There was a young boy learning to memorize a book from his father, the current “keeper of that book”, who lay dying while the snow fell all around them. I wish I were better at remembering the lines spoken; but, they matched the situation.

“…and he died, as he said he would, as the first snows of winter fell”, (or something very close to that), and the young boy realized that he had learned to repeat each line of the book precisely as it had been written, word for word, at the same moment that his father expired. It was a very moving scene from a great story.

Memorial Day should be a quiet day of reflection. May we all take a time out from our endeavors to appreciate those who have paid for our freedom.

Another article well worth reading comes from a fellow who calls himself “Jomama” at a blogsite called “to herd or not to herd”. “Khordorkovsky on Freedom the Russian Way” is the name of his article and is a reference piece dedicated to an imprisoned fellow who has a most illuminting view of freedom as an intangible property.

In his comment section I explained that he’d reminded me of a fellow locked away in China for having played classical European music. (similar to the burning of classical musical instruments in the movie, "Red Violin") They put him in solitary confinement but never broke his spirit or his ability to play piano. He drew the 88 keys on the floor of his cell, either in his mind or not I cannot recall. He continued to play and practice those same "illegal classics” every day he was behind bars. When the "powers that be" changed he was set "free", from the physical prison, he gave a performance on the piano. His practice had permitted him to give a flawless rendition of the same classics he’d been imprisoned over. The human spirit is strong enough to overcome almost anything.