I grew up in Washington DC and both my grandparents were buried in the Arlington National Cemetery, which is considered a great honor since it represents,( as so many landmarks do in our nation's capital), one of the ultimate places to be buried if you served our country in war.
I was never allowed to visit where they were buried, my mother's parents, and she never once went either, determined in her belief that their souls were NOT rotting in a box below ground; that they were free and had moved on and that although of course it was a great honor and that my grandfather was buried with every ceremonious honor a soldier could dream of and that now that Arlington was getting filled up it became more and more of a big deal to be buried there nothing changed my mother's mind. We were never, ever, to visit that site.
My father was a war hero as well, in World War 11 in the Navy, but when he died we had him cremated (his wish) so fast his own family had barely been informed of his death. He, too, was eligible to be buried at Arlington. Instead, his ashes were spread across The Maidstone Club golf course in East Hampton -- a place (it is beautiful) he loved more thann anything that existed in this world except his wife.
My brothers and their kids and wives and my kids and Mom and close friends traipsed the hundred yards or so to where he died (on way to golf course) and sprinkled some ashes, and then slipped along across the memory-laden old East Hampton bridge crossing Hook Pond from hole 4 and the opposite way hole 16, as we made our way to the ocean, on actually a full moon June evening, sprinkling Dad everywhere, because neither my father (who was eligible) nor my mother, wanted him locked in a box below the ground -- Arlington National Cemetery be damned. Its still the same as every place else when you die. But it was weird that Mom brought it up so much, like she was torn.
I was petrified to go Arlington as a kid, but have gone often since and there is nothing quite like it. The changing of the guards at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier has to have some affect on an American who truly IS one, which is the terrifying question right now; and President Kennedy's eternal frame with his brothers next to him -- well they have the best view of the city. It is a beautiful city. I grew up there amidst Kennedy's and Bushes and Sandra Day and all sorts of people who had influence and power both as a child and adult. But it really doesn't matter all that much. What counts are those who actually fought for our rights and our freedom and for us to have the kind of country we envisioned. I don't understand where that vision got so confusing, but right now I know it is completely different then the one I knew growing up in DC with politics and history and real people with huge power over this land in my backyard and the pride and singleness of purpose we all felt toward the United States Of America.
Even though I went to Arlington Cemetery often once I was older, I never looked up my Grandparents. I don't believe they are actually there. It's an honor that their bodies were asked to be laid to rest there though. It is one of the greatest honors bestowed on those who -- how can one say it with meaning? — Who literally put their lives on the line to save our country. Does it sink in to you? It doesn't, I admit, fully sink in for me.
Our country seems ashamed, divisive, angry, confused, split apart, unsure, weak, vulnerable, and sad. I hope and pray (hey, I don't mind saying it) we take today and the days and weeks and months in the future and try to stop acting like children and really work to take our pride and our nation back and teach our children the blessings they have living in this country. Everyone is angry about something. Including me
My pet peeve? I want to know exactly how many of our taxpayers dollars go to other nations, some that hate America, while we have homeless hungry children right here. That pisses me off. How much money goes out before we take care of our own children? That's the main thing I want to know.
But no country is perfect and I think ours is really fantastic and I think it is becauseo f those willing to fight for our precious freedom. I'm corny. I grew up on DC. Sorry.
May we remember our troops always.
God bless all those who fought for the freedoms we have.
I was never allowed to visit where they were buried, my mother's parents, and she never once went either, determined in her belief that their souls were NOT rotting in a box below ground; that they were free and had moved on and that although of course it was a great honor and that my grandfather was buried with every ceremonious honor a soldier could dream of and that now that Arlington was getting filled up it became more and more of a big deal to be buried there nothing changed my mother's mind. We were never, ever, to visit that site.
My father was a war hero as well, in World War 11 in the Navy, but when he died we had him cremated (his wish) so fast his own family had barely been informed of his death. He, too, was eligible to be buried at Arlington. Instead, his ashes were spread across The Maidstone Club golf course in East Hampton -- a place (it is beautiful) he loved more thann anything that existed in this world except his wife.
My brothers and their kids and wives and my kids and Mom and close friends traipsed the hundred yards or so to where he died (on way to golf course) and sprinkled some ashes, and then slipped along across the memory-laden old East Hampton bridge crossing Hook Pond from hole 4 and the opposite way hole 16, as we made our way to the ocean, on actually a full moon June evening, sprinkling Dad everywhere, because neither my father (who was eligible) nor my mother, wanted him locked in a box below the ground -- Arlington National Cemetery be damned. Its still the same as every place else when you die. But it was weird that Mom brought it up so much, like she was torn.
I was petrified to go Arlington as a kid, but have gone often since and there is nothing quite like it. The changing of the guards at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier has to have some affect on an American who truly IS one, which is the terrifying question right now; and President Kennedy's eternal frame with his brothers next to him -- well they have the best view of the city. It is a beautiful city. I grew up there amidst Kennedy's and Bushes and Sandra Day and all sorts of people who had influence and power both as a child and adult. But it really doesn't matter all that much. What counts are those who actually fought for our rights and our freedom and for us to have the kind of country we envisioned. I don't understand where that vision got so confusing, but right now I know it is completely different then the one I knew growing up in DC with politics and history and real people with huge power over this land in my backyard and the pride and singleness of purpose we all felt toward the United States Of America.
Even though I went to Arlington Cemetery often once I was older, I never looked up my Grandparents. I don't believe they are actually there. It's an honor that their bodies were asked to be laid to rest there though. It is one of the greatest honors bestowed on those who -- how can one say it with meaning? — Who literally put their lives on the line to save our country. Does it sink in to you? It doesn't, I admit, fully sink in for me.
Our country seems ashamed, divisive, angry, confused, split apart, unsure, weak, vulnerable, and sad. I hope and pray (hey, I don't mind saying it) we take today and the days and weeks and months in the future and try to stop acting like children and really work to take our pride and our nation back and teach our children the blessings they have living in this country. Everyone is angry about something. Including me
My pet peeve? I want to know exactly how many of our taxpayers dollars go to other nations, some that hate America, while we have homeless hungry children right here. That pisses me off. How much money goes out before we take care of our own children? That's the main thing I want to know.
But no country is perfect and I think ours is really fantastic and I think it is becauseo f those willing to fight for our precious freedom. I'm corny. I grew up on DC. Sorry.
May we remember our troops always.
God bless all those who fought for the freedoms we have.
2 comments:
Tracy...I read this because Portia deemed it relevant...and I wasn't disappointed. You echoed the sentiments that have been mine for decades and a day....our souls are not buried with us, but there is something that is so supremely elegant and regal about the ceremony of Arlington. Your portrayal hearkened me to revisit the sacrifices of our men and women, and I thank you for that. And I, too, am wearing a melancholia....finding no sate from the hollow....the divided space of the mal and uninformed.
Thank you, Jillian! I appreciate your comments a great deal. Having reader's appreciate what the writer is trying to say keeps us writing so thanks again! Tracy Davis
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