When I was growing up in Omaha, I would walk the mile or so from home
to school twice a day. I know. It sounds odd nowadays, doesn't it? A
kid walking
to a school that was a mile away from her house. But that was the way
it was back then. And no one thought twice about it. In fact, I still
see kids from my school, wearing the same uniforms we wore back then,
making that familiar trek. I hated the walk, though. Particularly on
the way home, as there was a huge hill, sloped at a daunting forty-two
degrees (we measured it one day with a protractor---I make no claims
for the accuracy of that measurement)that looked much like Mount
Everest when your backpack was crammed with heavy text books. But once
you crested that hill, you could breathe a huge sigh of relief as it
was smooth---flat---sailing all the way home. As far as walks go, I've
learned over the years that my walk to school was an interesting one in
an aesthetic sense. It could have been much worse. We could have walked
through slums. Instead, we had beautiful old houses in an old
neighborhood to look at. We could have been scorched by the hot
Nebraska sun. In reality, however, we had ample shade from all of the
established trees. We could have had to dodge five lanes of traffic on
an overly busy street with an exceedingly short light-cycle to get to
the school. Instead, we had an overpass that took us fifty feet above
the street and delivered us to the other side. We could have had vacant
lots to look at, but instead we had Memorial Park
and its famous rose gardens. Now, I never really thought all that much
about the "Memorial" in Memorial Park. It was just one of those places
I saw every day of my life. It was where we went sledding in the
winter. It was where we flew kites in March. It was where my brothers
would go to play a game of pickup soccer or football. It simply a park
that was next-door to my church and my school. It was the last place I
saw before I walked into school, and the first place I saw when I went
home. It wasn't until I was older that I realized that the huge,
gleaming, white colonnade was supposed to represent something. One
Saturday, when I was fourteen or so, I actually read the plaques that
are sparsley placed around the park and it was mildly surprising to
realize that it wasn't just a park after all. That this place I had
seen every day of my life actually had a purpose other than the one I
had assigned to it. I had thought it was just a huge expanse of green
space where people liked to go to play. That's all it meant to me at
that point. It honestly never occurred to me that it was meant to honor
those who had passed before us, giving their lives so that we might be
free. It was then that I stopped taking it for granted and appreciated
it all the more. It has struck me, over the years, how many people
continue to ignore places like Memorial Park. The most memorable
example is from college. At the Union at Iowa State, there is a
vestibule that leads out to the fountains and central campus. The Union
is a glorious old building and it was built in a time when
architectural beauty meant stone, marble and gleaming floors; it meant
sweeping staircases and large archways leading into high-cielinged
rooms replete with gracefully arched, twenty-foot windows. That
beautiful vestibule is meant to be the main entrance into the Union and
to denote its stature as such, it was built out of fine stone, smooth
to the touch, opaque to the eye, and meant to last. The names of those
Iowa State University students who died in WWI, WWII, Korea and Vietnam
are carved into the vestibule walls. Unfortunately, there is also a
small amount of blank space on that curved wall, left for those who
might die in future wars. But no one pays them any attention. Because
that vestibule also happens to be where a large, decorative bronze
relief of the Zodiac
was placed into the granite floor. School legend has it that if you
walk directly over the Zodiac, you will fail your next test. You can
stand there and watch the paranoia at work: every single person---even
the professors---who enters the Union by that door will take pains to
walk around the Zodiac and not over it. After all, you wouldn't
want to flunk your next test, would you? Unsurprisingly, the Zodiac
shows very little wear and tear. In the wintertime, the Union
janitorial staff even places the floor mats around the Zodiac, where
the people walk, and not over it. What would the point be? But this act
of paying heed to superstition brings these people within mere inches
of the names of those who died fighting for our freedom. Do people pay
attention? No. They're more interested in not flunking their next exam.
On this Memorial Day, I would simply ask you to pay attention to all
those things you pass by on a daily basis that were originally meant to
make you remember the sacrifices of those who came before you. Pay
attention and notice them, even if you pass them every day of your
life. Let those monuments to those who died for our freedom serve their
intended purpose: to make you remember how lucky you are that someone
was willing to fight so that you might live in freedom.