I never have to remember when the Memorial Day parade is scheduled to stop across from our house at the Civil War statue in front of the library. I hear the Minutemen and know it’s time to go out. This year more watchers and marchers than usual were along the road to Concord. Seems there were representatives from all “our” wars, even “the men in blue”, which may have been a first for them. This time three rounds of three were shot by corps representing the Revolutionary, Civil, and well, I guess all the wars of the twentieth (and twenty-first?) century.
Our stop is the Civil War stop. Next they move up the road to Wadsworth Cemetery where King Philips War was fought in 1675. On they go to the town center a mile and a half away.
The Memorial Day parade in our town has a feel of silence and solitude, punctuated by the three gun salutes. We retreat to our own private thoughts of war: the silence that befalls the soldier dead on the battlefield, and the solitude that loved ones will forever feel. But maybe more than that, or maybe because of that, we feel the need for community and companionship.
Our stop is the Civil War stop. Next they move up the road to Wadsworth Cemetery where King Philips War was fought in 1675. On they go to the town center a mile and a half away.
The Memorial Day parade in our town has a feel of silence and solitude, punctuated by the three gun salutes. We retreat to our own private thoughts of war: the silence that befalls the soldier dead on the battlefield, and the solitude that loved ones will forever feel. But maybe more than that, or maybe because of that, we feel the need for community and companionship.