Remembering the Fallen: A Memorial Day Reflection
I didn’t learn the following unit well after I was sworn into the Army.
Memorial Day is not about furniture sales or cookouts, though we often gather with friends and family in backyards across the country to cook out and down a cold one, and that’s OK. It’s the American way.
No—this is a day to stop and remember. To walk among the seemingly endless ocean of marble headstones, where the quiet tells stories louder than words. It’s for the men and women who laid it all on the line and didn’t come home. From the ragged ranks at Lexington and Concord to the jagged peaks of Afghanistan, their sacrifice binds the chapters of our national story together in blood, grit, and something approaching the holy. Many were just kids. They never really got to have much of a life; they sacrificed that for us. So ours could be better and more stress-free.
We honor them today not with speeches, but with presence. With gratitude. With laughter shared over hot dogs and beers because we can. That freedom to live—really live—is part of the legacy they left us. It’s easy to forget in the fog of headlines and the rush of daily life, but every liberty we enjoy was bought and paid for by someone who should still be here. That’s not guilt talking. That’s duty.
Live well. Live loud. Live free—and do it like someone’s watching, because in a way, they are. – GDM
They Were All The Greatest Generation
Bob Lang‘s illustration says it plainly: “In our eyes, you’re all part of the Greatest Generation.” From Doughboys in the trenches to digital-age warriors in desert camo, the common thread is service. And on this 80th anniversary of VE and VJ Day, as the last of that WWII generation slip into legend, it’s on us to carry the torch. We remember them. We honor them. And in doing so, we draw a line of continuity from then until now, through every American who answered the call and never came back.
So plant a flag. Raise a glass. Hug your kids. Today is for the fallen—but how we live is part of how we remember.
Remembering the Fallen: A Memorial Day Reflection
I didn’t learn the following unit well after I was sworn into the Army.
Memorial Day is not about furniture sales or cookouts, though we often gather with friends and family in backyards across the country to cook out and down a cold one, and that’s OK. It’s the American way.
No—this is a day to stop and remember. To walk among the seemingly endless ocean of marble headstones, where the quiet tells stories louder than words. It’s for the men and women who laid it all on the line and didn’t come home. From the ragged ranks at Lexington and Concord to the jagged peaks of Afghanistan, their sacrifice binds the chapters of our national story together in blood, grit, and something approaching the holy. Many were just kids. They never really got to have much of a life; they sacrificed that for us. So ours could be better and more stress-free.
We honor them today not with speeches, but with presence. With gratitude. With laughter shared over hot dogs and beers because we can. That freedom to live—really live—is part of the legacy they left us. It’s easy to forget in the fog of headlines and the rush of daily life, but every liberty we enjoy was bought and paid for by someone who should still be here. That’s not guilt talking. That’s duty.
Live well. Live loud. Live free—and do it like someone’s watching, because in a way, they are. – GDM
They Were All The Greatest Generation
Bob Lang‘s illustration says it plainly: “In our eyes, you’re all part of the Greatest Generation.” From Doughboys in the trenches to digital-age warriors in desert camo, the common thread is service. And on this 80th anniversary of VE and VJ Day, as the last of that WWII generation slip into legend, it’s on us to carry the torch. We remember them. We honor them. And in doing so, we draw a line of continuity from then until now, through every American who answered the call and never came back.
So plant a flag. Raise a glass. Hug your kids. Today is for the fallen—but how we live is part of how we remember.
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