Memorial Day Revisited

In honor of our fallen heroes, let's revisit a posting from our lost archives that was originally posted on May, 27th, of 2006, appropriately entitled, "Memorial Day."



Memorial Day always symbolized the onset of summer. After the heavy rains subsided, the city of Everett filled with tell tale signs of natural reincarnation. Those half-dead city planted maple trees out in front of our houses now stood decorated with those little yellow bells.

Even the tree trunks transformed from a lifeless gray to a more enriched shade of light brown. Dandelions popped up everywhere scattered among those yellowish green baby blades of grass that stretched for fresh air after a long winter's nap.

Was it my imagination, or did the Everett girls really come to life in May? By Memorial Day, all the girls beamed with a new air of beauty that seemed lacking in winter. Their smiles radiated in the brighter warm sun. Even their skin seemed softer and more colorful against the aromatic background of the Spring-May flowers.

Maybe that's why so many songwriters and poets express how a young man's fancy turns toward the more romantic side with the onset of Spring. It sure had that effect on me, I'll tell ya. If we had anything to be thankful for about growing up in Everett, it was the fact that our fair city was filled with pretty girls.

In many ways, our Memorial Day celebration in Everett signified the rebirth of our good-fellowship amongst neighbors. We all gathered on the sidewalks together to watch the parade. Although it was significantly smaller than on the Fourth of July, it was always a good time. For one thing, it was the first citywide gathering of all the people from Everett for the year.

We always ran down to Elm Street to watch the parade. Standing in front of the old Evens school (where the Everett Police complex now stands), we got to see the parade front on as it rounded the corner from Ferry onto Elm Street. Reliving the memory through the eyes of a child brings back a flood of fond memories.

Before the parade even approached the area, the police came by (sometimes on horseback) to clear the way for the approaching festivity. We all waived excitedly when Vinnie the cop came riding by on his motorcycle - did we not? And as a fellow Everett colleague recently reminded me in an email - we all want to know - who stole Vinnie's motorcycle that night up at Vargis?

Street venders holding onto patriotic balloons, waiving flags, and wheeling a cart full of memorabilia, hawked their wares to the enthusiastic gathering crowd. Even though the cops told us not to dozens of times, the boys all sat together along the curbstone with their feet sticking out into the middle of the street.

As soon as we detected the faint sound of the drum and bugle corps in the distance, we all stood up and looked off into the direction of the approaching festivities. Yeah, I know, we all had that cool relaxed look about us, but in reality the excitement was building up to a fever pitch. You could tell by how many people stretched up onto their tiptoes, cupped their hand across their forehead to shield their eyes from the sunlight hoping to catch a glimpse of the coming parade.

After what seemed like a long, drawn out delay, came the start of something big. Oh, the memories. It's hard to remember what came first. There were banners, cars rolling by filled with smiling people, and somebody said that happy guy in the business suit who was waiving to everybody is our mayor. I'll never forget that pounding bass drum that boomed right down into the center of my heart when the Statesmen Drum and Bugle Corps passed by.

You can only imagine my excitement on the year that my brother, Carl, marched with the Statesman in the Memorial Day parade banging on that bass drum. You'd think I had just seen President Kennedy himself by the way I acted. Jumping up and down, frantically waiving my hands over my head, I shouted out, "Hey everybody, that's my brother!"

I saw his eyes dart over at me. That smile of pride broke across his lips that he so vainly tried to suppress. Damn, he looked some smart all decked out in that uniform. All that drilling practice down at the armory night after night really paid off. We were all so proud of him. This was a major accomplishment for someone who had struggled daily with the debilitating threat of Epileptic seizures hanging over his head. He worked hard for this moment. He deserved to be proud.

There were a lot of great drum and bugle corps and marching bands in our area. Each one had its own unique style. The CYO band always put on a good show, as did the Cavaliers. We always cheered when the Everett High School band passed by.

My mother tried to get me to join one once. She made me go down to the Armory and sign up for Statesman. Her logic was that if it was good enough for my brother - it was good enough for me. When I went down there, they wouldn't let me sign up to play drums. They said they had enough drummers already. Some guy named Bob, handed me a bugle (or reasonable fact simile) and said, "I need more people in brass."

After two practice sessions of marching back and forth all over the Armory for hours on end, I pleaded with my mother not to force me into this thing. I was clearly not drum and bugle corps material. She refused to listen. My last resort was to get down on bended knee and plead with my Dad. It worked.

He had no idea my mother had forced me into this thing. "Take that horn back to that guy tomorrow and tell him you're not interested," he said. My mother argued that I should have some structured extracurricular activity to keep me out of trouble. My father's response was, "Paul's got a paper route. That's good enough." Thank God for Dads - right?

Don't get me wrong. I do admire the people who dedicate themselves to all the hard work that goes into performing the fascinating entertainment they provide for the rest of us. Not only that, but I do enjoy watching their military style maneuvers and listening to them play. It's just not for me. When it comes to drum and bugle entertainment, I make a better spectator than I do a participant.

Following the drum and bugle corps were the Veterans of Foreign Wars proudly marching with their chins held high. Their banner stretched out far and wide before them, boldly displaying and respectfully honoring those colors they risked life and limb to so faithfully serve.

After that, there was always a couple of convertibles with dressed up old people waiving at the crowd. When you're a little kid, you have no idea what that's all about. I can remember my friend Joey saying, "What happen to these people? Did they take a wrong turn and get trapped in the parade?"

"Hey, that's my grandmother," some kid yelled out behind us.

"Well, you better go throw her some peanuts before they put her back into the cage," Joey shouted back.

"Oh yeah!"

Next thing you know we're pulling the two of them apart.

"Cut it out, you two. The National Guard is coming."

That did it. Who's got time for hostilities when the best part of the whole parade is finally converging upon us? This is exactly what we've all been waiting for the whole time. Look out people. Here they come.

The Yankee Division National Guard Unit was the closest we ever got to an armed military battalion when we were little kids. Hearing the sound of those hard combat boots stomp the ground in unison as they drew near, excited a bonfire of anticipation in the hearts and minds of every little boy sitting along the curbstone.

Don't you remember the television commercial for the National Guard back then? It said, "You can sleep soundly tonight. Your National Guard is awake." As comical as it may sound, when I was a little kid, that commercial gave me a sense of security. That's understandable when you take into consideration that I felt better every time I heard Jack Chase say, "So long and make it a good day."

When the National Guard passed by, we all fell in right behind them and followed the procession all the way up Elm Street, rounding the corner onto Washington Ave. We even waived to all the on lookers along the way as if we were a part of the parade.

They paused for but a moment as they approached the front gates of Glenwood Cemetery and marched in place. We all mimicked our National Guard heroes. The commander then gave the command, "Forward march!" In an impressive respectful military manner, they circled the Veteran's Memorial and saluted the flag. We all recited the Pledge of Allegiance with our hands upon our hearts.

For the next hour or so, speakers took to the podium to express their heart-felt sentiments and gratitude for those who laid down their lives to uphold the honor of the Red, White, and Blue. As kids, we didn't fully realize the emotional impact of what these speakers were paying homage to.

Rather than stand still and learn something, we took this opportunity to wander about the cemetery for nothing more than to quench our curiosities. After all, that wide-open field of white military gravestones decorated in heroic colors was truly a remarkable sight. You could hear the excited sentiments expressed amongst the kids reading the epitaphs.

"Hey, this guy won a medal for bravery in Normandy."

"This guy over here won a medal of Distinction in Guam."

"Oh yeah, get a load of this one. Here's a guy from Everett who won the Congressional Medal of Honor."

We all bowed our heads in reverence while the bugalist played Taps to honor our fallen heroes. You could hear the gunfire from the twenty-one gun solute echo all over the cemetery. After that, we scattered to scoop up the discarded shell casings. When it comes to collecting Memorial Day memorabilia, nothing compares to getting your hands on a discharged shell casing from the official twenty-one gun salute.

At the close of the observant ceremonies, we all fell in behind the National Guard to march back to the Armory on Chelsea Street. Once inside, a free-for-all feast ensued. It gave us a chance to mingle with the soldiers on a personal level. They gave us soda, sandwiches, potato chips, hot dogs, hamburgers, and ice cream. We had a blast.

As the years passed, I saw my brother, and many friends from Everett join the ranks of the proud and the brave, to honor each and every one of us by risking life and limb to protect and defend our way of life. Some came home, and some did not.

While I was out partying with friends and wooing the girls with my guitar, there were those who were tramping through the rice fields with hot lead whizzing over their heads in Vietnam. They didn't ask for it. They didn't even question it. Duty called and they answered.

While I sat in Everett Stadium waiting to hear my name called to receive my High School diploma, Joe Hickey was crouched down in a bog somewhere putting his life on the line so that I could enjoy the good times. You want to talk about courage? This guy did two full tours of duty in Vietnam. I'd say he's a monument to courage - wouldn't you?

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I feel privileged to have been born and raised in Everett. From the bottom of my heart do I thank every veteran who stepped up to the plate, put their fears behind them, and faced the unthinkable, to protect and preserve my way of life. It is a heartfelt honor, and an emotional comfort, to know that my father, and my brother, rest among the respected Veterans from Everett at the Glenwood Cemetery.

On this Memorial Day, I will take that pause from the habit and routine, look up at Old Glory against the deep blue sky, place my hand over my heart, and pay homage to each and every Veteran that has honored us with their bravery. They are common people who performed heroically when fate threw down its gauntlet and dared them to stand their ground at their moment of truth.

To every Veteran out there, with every fiber of sincerity in my soul do I deeply respect, honor, and thank you - not only on Memorial Day - but every single moment of my life. Because of you we can proudly shout - "We're From Everett!"

God Bless Our Veterans!

and - God Bless America!