Brookfield Basics

Just as Veterans Day was once known as Armistice Day, Memorial Day also began under a different name. It originated in 1862 in the Civil War torn South, when widows of Confederate dead would spend the day decorating the graves of their fallen husbands. By the 1880’s this practice evolved into Memorial Day, and May 30 has since been a day established to recognize, remember, and appreciate our nation’s fallen soldiers.

I take the name of this article from the ancient lines of the Greek Poet:


“Go tell the Spartans, those that passeth by,
That here, obedient to their laws, we lie”.


These lines refer to the heroic group of three hundred Spartans who blocked the Pass of Thermopylae, protecting their homeland from the advance of Xerxes’ Persian Army. They knew they would die, but they stayed and fought anyway. They did so because they were raised to believe that some things were worth more than even their lives.

On Memorial Day of 2007 I think of many people. I think first of my father, father-in-law, and two uncles – World War Two veterans all. Three of them are gone now, and though they did not fall in the field, I still think of them this day.

I think of former Brookfield Central Lancer and US Army Sergeant Scott Brown, recently fallen in Iraq. I grieve for his family and young son, and if any of them should happen to read this, please know that we have specifically prayed for you this week, and stand ready to do whatever modest things we can do to show our sorrow and our appreciation.

I think of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, who penned their names to a document that ended with the words “and to this Declaration we pledge our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor”. Today many elites mock these men, claiming that they were only a privileged few trying to protect their lofty status. Aside from being lazy and arrogant, this is simply inaccurate. While it is true that some who signed were wealthy and established, most were self-made men of little means, many of whom would dangle at the end of a British rope for having signed that document. They felt their sacred honor was worth more than their lives.

I think of George Washington and the men of his rag-tag army, walking barefoot in the snows of Valley Forge.

I think of the private in the US Army of the Potomac, writing a letter to his young wife and four sons just a few days before Gettysburg. It is a missive of such pure and evocative beauty that it transcends our physical experience. I have had the good fortune of traveling much of this world, and I well remember visiting St. Peter’s Cathedral in Rome, gazing in stupefied awe at Michelangelo’s “Pieta”. But even that did not have the impact upon me that Gettysburg did. I remember standing on that hallowed ground in Pennsylvania. And I remember thinking I never want to meet the person who can stand on that ground and remain unmoved.

I think of Sigfried Sassoon, the World War One British Infantry Officer who left the safety of his trench to venture out into the killing fields to look for his injured comrade. Upon finding him, his wounded friend gazed up at him softly murmured, “I knew you would come”. He died shortly cradled in Sassoon’s arms.

I think of Winston Churchill, alone and magnificent, standing up to Hitler as he proclaimed to an imperiled Western World, “We shall never surrender”.

I think of Douglas MacArthur, America’s greatest soldier and the liver of an almost mythological life. I envision him in his 80’s on the plains of West Point, shoulders firm and jaw square as he gave his last public address to the graduating long gray line of the Corps, proclaiming boldly, “Duty, Honor, Country”.

I think of the U.S. Marines fighting their way through sub-zero temperatures and three hundred thousand Chinese infantry in the Chosen River basin in North Korea; their legendary leader Chesty Puller muttering, “we have them right where we want them”.

I think of the opening scenes of Spielberg’s masterpiece “Saving Private Ryan”, with the enormous, overarching American flags lofting in the Channel-fed breezes, keeping silent yet faithful vigil over the fallen that lie in the cemetery at Normandy.

I think of another cemetery - Arlington National outside of Washington D.C.. It is a place of such reverential beauty that it beggars description. The land for the Cemetery once belonged to the family of Robert E. Lee and was confiscated by the Federal Government after the Civil War. I suspect that Lee would approve of how his land has been used.

On Monday at 3 PM at Veterans Park, immediately following the Memorial Day Parade, twenty-five thousand balloons will be released to commemorate of country’s fallen heroes. If you have a chance go and see it. If not, wherever we are at this time, let’s stop our frenzied activities. Let’s take several minutes to think on these things and to pray our silent gratit