MEMORY STRETCHES CLEAR BACK

–Paul Zolbrod

As my ninetieth birthday arrives, and what is now history for most, is memory for me. I have plenty of room to ruminate over that. Here’s one recollection I entertained as this day began.

On what was then called Memorial Day in 1942, I got to march in our local parade as a cub scout. The route was well over a mile long, and our troop proudly made its way to its destination at the local cemetery, to commemorate at the section were veterans were buried, the occasion’s full meaning beginning to resonate with me, especially now that we were at war again.

Here’s something that also resonated with me. As guests of honor, two still surviving local Civil War veterans sat among the dignitaries presiding over the ceremonial gathering–not more than twenty or thirty feet from where I with my fellow scouts were seated. I stared at them, aware at the time not so much for what they may have experienced or its significance, but for their age: how old they looked, how seemingly frail yet proud wearing their American Legion hats, the red-white-and blue ribbons crossing one shoulder with somber resplendence, and their various service medals, how seemingly unapproachable.

That image has apparently stayed with me, for my current age is equal to theirs then, and just as they could reflect on whatever experience they had during that now distant war, my memories now reach back to the Christmas I spent as 1954 came to a close in Tokyo as the Korean War overlapped with our entry into what became the Vietnam War, now history for most but clear memory for me–something I recall vividly but that most folks today only mark at historical distance. 

As we grow old and recollect as I do this way, time’s trajectory is elastic. The older we get, the further it stretches. Look how that works for me. Within my living memory, I can reach back to a time when I was a youngster and got to gaze at two old veterans whose memories could reach back to our Civil War. And here’s what I regret now. How easily I could have gone up to them, shake hands, and ask them something personal they remembered.

But I didn’t. The age difference made them seem further from me than the short physical distance that separated us. And as I feel now with my age distancing me from youngsters, I’d be delighted to share what for them was accessible only in history books (or these days, a Ken Burns a historical documentary). I embrace those rare occasions when someone young asks about my past.

Now I’m the old geezer seemingly too distant for a youngster to feel he or she might approach and initiate a wished-for conversation. And now I’m left to regret I never did that with either of them. I’ll bet they would have loved that. And think of how much more I’d have to tell some young kid bold enough to ask me to talk. 

Look at how far back that youngster’s memory could then have stretched: clear back to Civil War times. 

The past really matters and should be shared., As we depart this world, we take with us whatever of it we have gained, and whatever we fail to share before we leave. Or so I now realize as I begin the tenth decade of my life.

Paul has authored two books about the Korean War. One, Battlesongs is a novel available on Amazon; the other, A GI Christmas Carol is available on Lulu.com. Proceeds from the sales of these books help the museum.

Reflecting on Independence Day

It’s morning on July 4th. I’m going to work. As I’m pulling away from the house at 0230 the car begins playing the last XM Radio station I listened to: 40’s Junction. I recognize Bob Hope addressing US military personnel in a live performance and simultaneous radio show. He’s wishing everyone a happy Independence Day and the patriotic atmosphere within my car is palpable. 

I began to think back to my primary school days; always beginning with the class rising to its feet, facing the American Flag and reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. And no one complained; even as children we recognized this as a civic duty and for many, including me, that act inspired a love and respect for our nation that continues to this day. Each year the days leading up to July 4th the city streets were adorned with American Flag bunting and flowerpots that were overflowing with red, white, and blue petunias. Flags waved from homes, street posts and car radio antennas. At school we were creating refrigerator art; silhouettes of Ben Franklin, John Adams, and Thomas Jefferson, all cut from construction paper and held together with Elmers glue. We all looked forward to the fireworks show at the city park.

As an adult and retired Army Soldier I cherish this time of year, and while I don’t always agree with how cultural trends ebb and flow, (Get off my lawn!) I am steadfast in my belief that I live in the best nation on the Earth. While patriotism and the celebration of our Nation’s independence has seemingly waned a bit from when I was born at the height of the Vietnam War, I will do my part in encouraging those around me to stop and consider the foundational meanings of our Declaration of Independence; in short: as citizens we have certain inalienable Rights to include the right of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That all people are created equal, and that we, as individuals, have a civic duty to defend these rights for ourselves and others!

Happy Independence Day, friends!

Eric Whitsell