I’m not really sure how or when the longstanding
habit started, but for many years as a young man my routine on Memorial Day was
always exactly the same. Sometime around 13 or 14 years old, I decided to hop
on my 10-speed and make the three or so mile schlep from our modest home in
West Los Angeles, California up Westwood Boulevard to the United States
National Cemetery in Westwood. The 114 acres of hallowed ground sits in the
shadow of the University of California Los Angeles (where I’d eventually embarrass
myself on the practice field) and is bordered by famed thoroughfares Wilshire
Boulevard on the south and Sepulveda Boulevard to the west. Even after I turned
16 and had the option of driving my shinny ’72 red pinto, I still chose to ride
my bike up there most of the time.
Seems to me
I almost always went alone. I can remember a time or two in my early twenties
when my girlfriend (now wife) came along, but for the most part it was a pretty
solitary thing. I’d usually try to go early…before the place got too packed
with other visitors and I’d always ride around the place for a while before
getting off the bike. Unless you’ve been to a place like Arlington or some
other massive Veteran cemetery, it’s hard to really describe the scene. I’m
sure there were exceptions, but in my mind every single headstone was
accompanied by a small American flag. The flags were placed there by thousands
of volunteers (a lot of Boy Scouts as I recall) in the days leading up to the
holiday, and riding and walking by the rows of stones and flags was always a
moving experience for me.
Eventually
I’d try to find some spot up on the hill on the northern edge of the property
where there weren’t many people around. I’d disembark from the bike and simply
walk up and down some of the rows…reading the names of people, the wars where
they served and the date that they perished. As I walked I’d think about the young men and women in places like Yorktown,
Lexington, Concord, Antietam, Hampton Roads, Gettysburg, Flander’s Field,
Normandy, Iwo Jima, Okinawa, The Chosin Reservoir, Tet and La Drang Valley. I think about all the young
people that fought in those places and that didn’t come home. I think about the
terrible conditions they had to endure, largely so I’d have the freedom to enjoy Memorial Day and go for a bike ride and walk
through a cemetery.
By virtue of pure timing, luck, no doubt some cowardice and probably the fact that I
actually had a choice, I never had to serve our nation in time of war. I
wasn’t around for WWII or Korea, and was too young for Vietnam. By the time we
went to Iraq I was well past my prime…so for the most part my biggest struggles
in life have been crises like having my prized
bicycle stolen in childhood, an unflattering
Division I college football failure and
dealing with the consequence of procrastination with respect to the
squirrels I suspected
were dwelling in attic of my house. In light of this, the practice of taking a few hours to
reflect in Westwood always provided a healthy dose of perspective as a young
man…and for obvious reasons, I always returned from the experience a better
person…at least for the few days that followed.
Ironically, my wife and I now live on the
opposite coast…just miles from Arlington Cemetery. We manage to go over there
about twice a year when visitors are in town…but never on Memorial Day weekend.
Sometimes we drive by on the Harley, but the lines to enter the place are
always insane…so we never seem to get any closer than the off ramp on the
George Washington Parkway.
It’s too bad really…because I could use a
good Memorial Day dose of the perspective I’d get from those early Westwood
pilgrimages. Most of my thinking time these days is spent kvetching over injustices like having to get up early, working
too hard, unproductive meetings, the exorbitant cost of manhattans at the St.
Regis, and inconsiderate shitheads that block traffic lanes during
rush-hour by flipping on their hazard lights and double parking so they can run
into the Walgreens to pick up a case of Depends.
I’m guessing a couple of hours in Arlington’s Section 60
would help me with my attitude.
All across this country, people
will gather this weekend at barbeques, family gatherings, summer homes,
baseball games and a host of other iconic places and events to
enjoy the extra day of rest and relaxation provided by Monday’s holiday. Many
like me, will revel
in the good life with nary a thought about
the multitudes that gave so much. Not sure what you’re doing this
Memorial Day Weekend, but whatever it is, spend some time doing something you
enjoy with the people that you truly love. Some folks paid a significant price
to make it all possible, so out of deference
to them, let’s make their sacrifice count.
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