Today is a special day. Memorial Day is an official American holiday, always falling on the last Monday in May. The holiday was originally called Decoration Day, it started in the years after the Civil War, and it became an official Federal holiday in 1971. The concept was at first intended to honor those lost during the Civil War, but as our nation soldiered on, Memorial Day came to recognize and pay tribute to those lost in all our wars.
The Vietnam War dominated the news and our lives in my earlier years. I missed that one by a fluke of timing, but I knew three fine young men who made the ultimate sacrifice: Stephen Ponty (he was only 19 when he died in Vietnam), Timothy Ochs (who was 21 when he died over there), and Gary Buttenbaum (who was 23 when he was killed in action in Vietnam). All three were from my neighborhood in central Jersey, and they were just a bit older than me. I never met Colin MacManus (Captain MacManus was 25 when he was killed), but I feel like I know him and I think about him a lot, too. I think about all of them, and I wonder what they might have become had they returned from Vietnam. I’ve seen their names (along with more than 58,000 others) on the Wall in Washington, DC. Not that I need to. I know who they are.
You don’t thank veterans for their service on Memorial Day (that’s what Veteran’s Day is for); you remember and think about those who did not come home. I usually head to the range on Memorial Day with two of my favorite military weapons (the Garand and the 1911), and I think about Tim, Steve, Gary, and Colin. Rest in peace, my brothers. Your memories live on.