It was two years ago that the idea for this blog was born and it was in the remembrance of what has gone before, particularly on this day of days.
Two years ago today, I had the privilege of walking through the National Law Enforcement Memorial almost alone. It was a cool, overcast day with some light, occasional sprinkles--fitting, it seemed for the day. I had missed the formal memorial services that surely took place, but the wreaths, roses, cards, patches and memorabilia that remained hinted at what had happened. The rain likely was mixed with tears and the clouds surely mirrored the mood of many, now done with another year's services and returned to their lives.
As I roamed the Memorial, I came across a small card with the names of those officers who had sacrificed their lives in the service of their citizens that fateful day. I couldn't help but be carried back in time to the morning of September 11, 2001 when our world was forever turned on its head by a cowardly act of unspeakable horror.I've already related how I met a lone NYPD officer, paying his respects to a fallen friend or friends in a previous post. I won't retell it here. But my thoughts today will be with him and his colleagues of NYPD, as well as the selfless men and women of the FDNY and all those who will harbor a pointed and particular ache on this day.
But, as in my last post, my thoughts are turned today, as they are every anniversary, to the question of what, then, do we do?
Fittingly, earlier the same day I was at the Lincoln Memorial where I read his immortal words:
"...It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom..." (Abraham Lincoln, The Gettysburg Address)
How do we best remember and honor the fallen? I won't attempt an answer here, but I encourage any who read this to use the moment(s) of silence that come this day to reflect upon this question: How do I make my life a fitting memorial to those who have so sacrificed?
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| "I see America, not in the setting sun of a black night of despair ahead of us, I see America in the crimson light of a rising sun fresh from the burning, creative hand of God. I see great days ahead, great days possible to men and women of will and vision." Carl Sandburg |
________________
The naked earth is warm with spring,
And with green grass and bursting trees
Leans to the sun's gaze glorying,
And quivers in the sunny breeze;
And life is colour and warmth and light,
And a striving evermore for these;
And he is dead who will not fight;
And who dies fighting has increase.
The fighting man shall from the sun
Take warmth, and life from the glowing earth;
Speed with the light-foot winds to run,
And with the trees to newer birth;
And find, when fighting shall be done,
Great rest, and fullness after dearth.
All the bright company of Heaven
Hold him in their high comradeship,
The Dog-Star, and the Sisters Seven,
Orion's Belt and sworded hip.
The woodland trees that stand together,
They stand to him each one a friend;
They gently speak in the windy weather;
They guide to valley and ridge's end.
The kestrel hovering by day,
And the little owls that call by night,
Bid him be swift and keen as they,
As keen of ear, as swift of sight.
The blackbird sings to him, "Brother, brother,
If this be the last song you shall sing,
Sing well, for you may not sing another;
Brother, sing."
In dreary, doubtful, waiting hours,
Before the brazen frenzy starts,
The horses show him nobler powers;
O patient eyes, courageous hearts!
And when the burning moment breaks,
And all things else are out of mind,
And only joy of battle takes
Him by the throat, and makes him blind,
Through joy and blindness he shall know,
Not caring much to know, that still
Nor lead nor steel shall reach him, so
That it be not the Destined Will.
The thundering line of battle stands,
And in the air death moans and sings;
But Day shall clasp him with strong hands,
And Night shall fold him in soft wings.
~Julian Grenfell, Into Battle
And with green grass and bursting trees
Leans to the sun's gaze glorying,
And quivers in the sunny breeze;
And life is colour and warmth and light,
And a striving evermore for these;
And he is dead who will not fight;
And who dies fighting has increase.
The fighting man shall from the sun
Take warmth, and life from the glowing earth;
Speed with the light-foot winds to run,
And with the trees to newer birth;
And find, when fighting shall be done,
Great rest, and fullness after dearth.
All the bright company of Heaven
Hold him in their high comradeship,
The Dog-Star, and the Sisters Seven,
Orion's Belt and sworded hip.
The woodland trees that stand together,
They stand to him each one a friend;
They gently speak in the windy weather;
They guide to valley and ridge's end.
The kestrel hovering by day,
And the little owls that call by night,
Bid him be swift and keen as they,
As keen of ear, as swift of sight.
The blackbird sings to him, "Brother, brother,
If this be the last song you shall sing,
Sing well, for you may not sing another;
Brother, sing."
In dreary, doubtful, waiting hours,
Before the brazen frenzy starts,
The horses show him nobler powers;
O patient eyes, courageous hearts!
And when the burning moment breaks,
And all things else are out of mind,
And only joy of battle takes
Him by the throat, and makes him blind,
Through joy and blindness he shall know,
Not caring much to know, that still
Nor lead nor steel shall reach him, so
That it be not the Destined Will.
The thundering line of battle stands,
And in the air death moans and sings;
But Day shall clasp him with strong hands,
And Night shall fold him in soft wings.
~Julian Grenfell, Into Battle
Just listened to President Bush's address at the new Flight 93 Memorial yesterday. He used a portion of the Gettysburg Address, too. I guess we think alike in some respects!
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