Memorial Day Ambivalence

As a child and grandchild of war veterans, particularly of the "Big Wars," Memorial Day always has been less about BBQs and the start of summer and more a somber reminder of courage, duty, and patriotism. Memorial Day traditionally meant hanging the flag on the porch; attending mass, a parade, and/or a luncheon honoring veterans; and, more recently, planting flowers and posting flags at the cemetery. The older I grew, the more uncomfortable I became with these events. As I developed my own political and religious views, which included a strongly non-violent approach to conflict resolution, I struggled with the balance between honoring veterans for heroic duty and glorifying war; between respecting the choices of the men in my life who I respected so dearly and openly challenging my male peers for their Rambo-like war-mongering; between arguing for true equality for women and being horrified at the prospect of women engaging in combat (which I comfortabley, though erroneously, associate as a male vice).

In this latest chapter of my life, I've found a new ambivalence. With both of our fathers deceased, and being so far from our social networks at home, Eddie and I have not celebrated Memorial Day since moving to Albany, and I find myself strangely missing our old rituals. If we were back in Michigan, I would probably begrudgingly participate in the Memorial Day events, angry over our current military involvement overseas, sad over the senseless losses that have touched us personally, and yet somehow awed by a sense of patriotism that I wish I could share. Perhaps what I'm most distressed about is not the debate over the morality of the current war, but the longing to truly believe that we are on the right course, to have faith in our political leaders, and to be proud to be an American. I sometimes worry that I have become too cynical to ever feel those things again.