Kevin Drum linked to this nice adaptation of the War Prayer by Mark Twain.

Personally I'll be far more inclined to believe in "american exceptionalism" when such thoughtfulness about war and its consequences replaces the typical jingoism (and capitalism) on memorial day.

This day reminds me that my dad was on a LSD during parts of the Vietnam War.

I believe that Memorial Day is also a day for remembering now-departed family and/or friends. Here's mine:

Memories of my father:
Memorial Day, imho, can also be a day for memorializing a now-departed family member. Memories of my late dad, who passed away in late January 2001, after a long bout with what turned out to be limbic encephalitis(the autopsy revealed that), and who we all still missl

I still remember my dad's exuberant voice over the telephone when he'd say "hello" in response to my calling, or when he'd call to invite me out to dinner with the rest of the family. I remember him at parties and other family gatherings, walking around and socializing with people. He was a vigorous, exuberant man, 6' 2", with a twinkle in his eye, who touched the hearts of all who knew him. He was the most
nonjudgmental person I'd ever met. Although his job as a freelance photojournalist frequently took him to different parts of the country on assignments, he always managed to be their for the family, and was very supportive of us all through the thick and thin. One of the things that I miss is having conversations with my dad about my favorite movie (you all know what that is), or a favorite book or whatever, which we just didn't have enough of. I also miss dad's teasing me about my love for the film West Side Story, which is my alltime favorite movie. Sometimes, I'd get a phone call from him, inviting me to dinner or whatever, and I'd pick up the phone to hear dad pretending to croon the song "Maria" over the phone. It made me laugh. Another thing about my dad is that he was always a very accepting person who accepted pretty much anybody, regardless of race, color, ethnicity, background, or even viewpoints, and made an effort to understand how and/or why people arrived at their way of thinking. Yet, he never countenanced bigotry and/or racism, which to him, were anathema to his values.

My siblings and I were very lucky to have dad around while we were growing up, which is something that lots of people don't have. When I had problems at my last job, my dad was very supportive, along with my mom. Whenever I or either of my siblings went through difficult times, my dad was there for us, through thick and thin. I was lucky to grow up in a warm, loving, supportive and stable family, who I"m still close to. I went to trade school for a year, and when I graduated, it was right on my dad's birthday. What a proud moment for him--to have his oldest daughter graduate from trade school on his birthday! Not long after that, however, my dad began to show signs of becoming ill. He lost his coordination, his balance, and ultimately, his memory. Although it had been even more noticeable when he went to play tennis one morning, it had, apparently been coming on more gradually than any of us realized--that there'd been smaller, less obvious signs. He'd felt tired all the time, but he dragged himself around anyway.

It became very apparent that something was wrong when dad would fall asleep unexpectedly, in the middle of the day, or whenever. He was tired, dizzy, and losing his balance. He couldn't remember anything that had just been said to him, so conversation had become impossible. It was disheartening to see such an exuberant, vigorous, intelligent, warmhearted person, and such an excellent conversationalist just go on the decline like that. Moreover, every test under the sun was tried on him, and even the top neurologist in the country couldn't figure out what was going on. After dad's death, the autopsy's results, which came back several months later revealed what the cause of dad's death was: A rare but fatal form of encephalitis, called limbic encephalitis, which killed him a year and a half after he became ill. As it turned out, his life could not have been saved even if they'd known what was happening.

One day, in the late winter of 2000, my dad entered the hospital for the last time. Admittedly, unlike the rest of my family, who maintained a pretty constant vigil by dad's bedside during the last days before his passing, I was unable to do that. Yet, I showed my love for him in other ways, and he knew that I loved him. On the Tuesday morning before his passing, when I was getting ready to go and tune a family friend's piano, I received a call from my brother, at 8:20, telling me to get to the hospital, as dad was having a hard time breathing. I quickly called to reschedule my piano tuning appointment, and went to the hospital, where the rest of my family was gathered. The neurology department staff of the hospital said that the next two days would tell the story of whether or not dad would pull through. It did not look good. After afew hours, I went home. The next day, Wednesday, passed uneventfully. However, that night, I called my brother at home to see how things were going, inadvertantly waking him from a deep sleep. I was told that dad was rapidly going downhill. I decided to run over to the hospital to say goodbye. The rest of my family was there by dad's bedside, including my sister, who'd flown in from the midwest to be by his side. I stayed there for afew hours. It was clear, by then that dad wasn't going to make it. I stayed for afew hours, and then drove home.

The next day, Thursday, I went and tuned our friend's piano that morning, then did a whole bunch of other errands and whatnot. I came home that evening to find a message on my answering machine, from my sister, saying that dad had passed on at 2:30 on the morning of January 18th, 2001. He was 76 years old at the time of his passing. The Fates had taken dad away from us too soon. We'd have all been happy if he'd lived another 5, 10 or 15 years, despite the fact that he'd enjoyed a rich, full life. There was a funeral and cremation for dad, followed by a celebration of his life, in mid March. I realize this is long, but I had to write it out. (I'm feeling a lump in my throat as I write this) We all miss him.

All told, however, I and my family were extremely lucky to have known, loved and grown up with somebody that saying goodbye to was so difficult.

#40
05-25-2008, 01:49 PM