In March, I had the great opportunity to travel to Washington, D.C. to chaperone my daughter’s eighth-grade field trip. I have read and talked a lot about the nation’s capital over the years, but had not visited in some time. It was a well-planned and purposeful week. I believe each of the students and adult chaperones received some things from it.
One afternoon, we visited Arlington National Cemetery. After being screened at the visitor’s center, we began the walk up the series of hills to the restored plantation house belonging to the Lee Family. While walking, I noticed soldiers in their dress uniforms. People often forget Arlington is a working cemetery each day.
My group journeyed first to the grave of President Kennedy. The hills are steep and plotted with graves in every direction. I looked to my left and saw a gleaming white horse off in the distance. It seemed like something out of a fairy tale until I noticed the caisson attached to the animal and some troops with a family processing not far behind. As we toured, a funeral was just beginning.
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It was simply a beautiful spring day for someone to come home to their final resting place.
The moment provided a respectful pause. I certainly did not know the individual, but I have examined war and conflict with my students over the years. I have interviewed veterans and taught several in various courses. I confess that I do not know enough about their struggles. The funeral procession, done with honor and dignity, put a lump in my throat. It was an honor to be present; watching someone’s final ride.
My group finished our time at the Eternal Flame with President Kennedy and walked down past the graves of his brothers. We continued up the hill toward the mansion. As with tours, we were crunched for time and needed to be at the top of another hill at the Veterans Amphitheater for the ceremonial changing of the guard.
Yet, as we walked, I began to hear sounds of gunfire. The funeral was finishing with the gun salute and, soon after, the sound of “Taps” waffled through the breeze. I stopped to honor the individual and the family as tourists walked back and forth. Out of respect, I stayed in my spot in the middle of the road until the trumpet finished.
All across the country this weekend, people will remember. Memorial Day is for the living to remember the individuals who willingly sacrificed their lives so the rest of us can continue to sleep safe at night in a free county. Their service and sacrifice remains emblematic of a country where rights and choices matter.
Walking Arlington National Cemetery is a constant reminder about freedom not being free. Liberty constantly costs the lives of people who willingly choose to preserve it for the rest of us. Freedom costs families who lose loved ones in defense of their communities and country.
Lincoln’s note of “these honored dead” rings constantly true from his Gettysburg Address. There are not many other words to properly describe the commitment and sacrifice of a warrior.
I stood there on the famous hill listening to “Taps” and those things were not lost on me. Here was another warrior, or a warrior’s spouse, going the final distance. Yes, I felt pride just thinking about the many commitments the individual must have made. He or she gave things up in their acts of service. They measured the costs of their actions. They battled other situations which came up in the courses of their journey. They must have loved. Judging from the family walking behind the caisson, they were loved well.
American soldiers are honored all over the world in American cemeteries in places from the Philippines to North Africa. This weekend, their graves will definitely be decorated and visitors will pass by their markers and be reminded of how special each of them are.
We do not just remember them for their sacrifice, we remember them as people with a heart, and a brain, and dreams with some measure of honor and valor. Their lives were taken from them in defense of some greater things.
As taps lingered off over the hills, I mourned, but I kept moving. I knew I had more journeys to take because the individual down below made some of my journeys possible by defending me in some way.
The funeral became a solemn act for many reasons. That life — a testament to service. As people kept moving among the funeral, I wondered how many of them were thinking the way I was. I hope they were thinking similar things.
Because we must never forget.
Brent Tomberlin is a social studies instructor at South Caldwell High School and at CCC&TI. He can be reached at coachtomberlin@gmail.com.
