It’s Memorial Day here in the U.S. The day we remember those who served in our military and did not live to come home.
Andy Rooney Rethinks Memorial Day
I saw a thoughtful piece by the late commentator Andy Rooney that’s worth sharing, Rooney Rethinks Memorial Day. He said:
Remembering doesn’t do the remembered any good, of course. It’s for ourselves, the living. I wish we could dedicate Memorial Day, not to the memory of those who have died at war, but to the idea of saving the lives of the young people who are going to die in the future if we don’t find some new way – some new religion maybe – that takes war out of our lives.
That would be a Memorial Day worth celebrating.”
I wholeheartedly agree. It makes me want to sing: “the answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind”. The whole clip is worth watching.
A Hummingbird’s Salute
For a Memorial Day photo, here’s a hummingbird and our flag. Just because. The hummingbirds have been happy with our feeder over this Memorial Day weekend here at Little House in the Rockies. Perhaps that tiny bird is saluting our fallen men and women by posing for me in front of the flag.
The Thankful Foreigner
Another remembrance is this post from the Glover Gardens archive about a young French man who grew up near Normandy and appreciated the D-Day sacrifice: by the Allies: The Thankful Foreigner: An Award-Winning Essay from a Millennial. It’s a bit of a read, but a sweet little story and quite apropos on Memorial Day.
Blowin’ in the Wind
I’ll leave you with these lyrics from Bob Dylan, so very much in line with the theme from Andy Rooney’s commentary.
How many roads must a man walk down
Before they can call him a man?
How many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
How many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they’re forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind
The answer is blowin’ in the wind
How many years can a mountain exist
Before it is washed to the sea?
How many years can some people exist
Before they’re allowed to be free?
How many times can a man turn his head
And pretend that he just doesn’t see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind
The answer is blowin’ in the wind
How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
How many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
How many deaths will it take ’til he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind
The answer is blowin’ in the wind
The answer is blowin’ in the wind
Thank you for the thoughtful and thought-provoking posts and pictures.
Shannon, thank YOU for the awesome affirmation. I really like your blog, too.
This is so beautifully written, and Blowin’ in the Wind is one of my favorite songs of the times.You know, I was thinking that thru all the wars, all those dictators and others who created so much destruction for power, and where are they all now? Thousands of years, and the story is told over and over for so many times. All that is left in some cases is the monuments they build to their own glory. But who really remains in this world through time? It is not the dictators or the kings, or those who would be king. It is the little, nameless workers who toil the soil to grow rice or grains or teas. It is the women who sit sewing a garment for someone to wear when the cold wins blow. And it is the children running free in the wind with homemade kites or playing with old boxes or sticks. These everyday people are the ones who remain even after the winds have ceased to blow and the winter snow comes. After the towns lay quietly in their ruins with bodies strewn everywhere, there are still the old ladies in some tiny hovel, stirring perhaps a pot of potato soup, or perhaps a pot of beans with a bone for the flavor. And there are the old men, sitting quietly on the porch remembering . . .
Thank you most kindly.
Anne, what a beautifully-written commentary. This is is a gift, and I thank you.