Ordinarily, I aim to write words in my introduction to whet the whistle of what you will consume as a reader. On this Memorial Day I am choosing to switch gears and opening with a brief poignant video in which the song “Hallelujah” is mellifluously sung with an accompanying collage of military imagery. I initially sought to compose a piece particularly pertaining to our beloved nation’s military police officers and their duality during wartime. However, when I viewed the following video, I realized it contains a broad scope, to include military cops.
Rewritten specifically in recognition of our military personnel, US Navy veteran and country music phenom Sailor Jerri‘s guitar playing and lyrical skills lends justice to the heartfelt tune, “Hallelujah”:
Although no one in my family lineage perished in service to our great country, it doesn’t mean I do not bleed for those who endure the pain and emptiness borne of a family military member who laid down his/her life in any of an array of American military involvements.
As a writer and researcher, I come across a bevy of information. The data and statistics sometimes bowl me over. Yesterday, I sifted through material concentrated on the opioid epidemic in the United States. The source for the burgeoning losses stemming from opioid overdose was the Drug Enforcement Administration. The DEA agent (a former soldier himself) compared the ever-mounting opioid overdose death toll to the losses from several wars fought by American soldiers. Frankly, I was unsure if I would have made such a comparison. Looking at the two venues for utter loss of life, to me, one seems to steal the honor of the other. Sometimes comparisons absolutely pale. I’m sure you can figure out which one of the two enumerations has a polar endearment.
Nevertheless, Memorial Day is a constant yet gentle (and not so gentle) reminder of where we are and how we arrived. Freedom. Freedom for Sailor Jerri who served and survived, to came home, to pick up her guitar, to sing liberally without censorship while clearly exuding the heartache from lyrical expressionism. It is said artists are deeply-feeling individuals. You can hear it in the attached audio/video.
One can easily imagine Sailor Jerri’s reminiscence, especially homing in on her battle buddies who may have not lock-stepped her boots on the airlift out.
A buddy of mine, with whom I served stateside as city cops working a beat, has a 20-year military career under his duty belt as well. He was an MP in the US Army and recently retired from policing a Florida municipality, too. This morning, my buddy posted wishes to not be thanked for military service on Memorial Day in particular. His reasoning and respectful message? The Day is reserved in honor of service personnel who came home draped by (under) an American flag, and not for survivors whose relegated special day of recognition is Veterans Day.
Albeit bittersweet, I find that to be a valuable nugget. Always a work-in-progress, it took me a long time to hone virtues of grace and humility. That process continues. Like any human in any circumstance, sometimes I falter and outcomes are less optimal and more like teaching moments. Today, I can say I see both sides of the coin, respect it, and nonetheless cater a fusion of honor and appreciation in equal parts. Whether coming home from military service in a casket or a window seat, gratitude never wanes for all who wore US military garb.
A tremendous element of respect is listening to one’s wishes…and granting the decency of memorializing with the philosophy they keep, even if it differs from mine. Quietly, I thank all soldiers. Openly with my buddy, I lend an ear and consume the stories of his military cohorts “who didn’t make it,” thankful to him for sharing painful memories.
Another buddy of mine, also a retired cop who served in the US Army as a sergeant, is heavily involved in Honor Rides for military fallen brothers/sisters. He motorcycles across the southeast part of the US, bannering the red, white and blue, in honor of those who perished in performance of handling the nation’s business. He spends 365 days doing at least one deed for our military, kind of like paying it forward by looking back and foisting fallen soldiers over shoulders…before marching forward again.
To the fallen and the survivors, you have my/our honor over all. To each and every man and woman who swore an oath to country and donned any armed forces uniform, Hallelujah to you for taking up the fight:
You packed your bags and shut the door
You crossed the sea to fight a war
You didn’t know just what would happen to you
Stepped in the dirt, boots on the ground
And gunfire was the only sound
And to yourself you whispered “Hallelujah”
Your brother falls down to the ground
The enemy is all around
From your lips you scream a “Hallelujah”
Respectfully speaking and in honor of my buddy’s wishes, I nevertheless adopt Sailor Jerri’s social media inscription which she posted one-hour ago, coinciding with the publication of this article. Her message reads: “Don’t forget what today is for…but don’t feel bad about cracking that beer or just being happy with your family today.
“It sucks to remember we lost our brothers and sisters…we need to honor their memory…but they’d kick our asses to hell and back if we sat around moping today instead of LIVING.”
