Memorial Day

As I sometimes do, I took the bus out to New Jersey today to visit my sister. It was for a Memorial Day BBQ. Completely enjoyable. Lots of tasty food. The trees were thick with leaves. The backyard was green. The company was lively and bright. The hostas were full.

But this is what I’m talking about:

At the edge of the town (Cresskill) there is a place where three roads meet to form a triangular green. This serves as a public space that is good for a nativity scene, a Christmas Tree, a big sign congratulating the local team, or in the case of Memorial Day, wreaths of red white and blue plastic carnations to commemorate the war dead.

I went over to the wreaths because at first I thought they were real flowers and I wanted to see them up close.

Once I saw they were fake, I thought, “Well, cool, they can just use the same ones every year. Why not.”

Then, after walking about twenty feet, I thought, “Shit, that’s the best they can do?”

Then, after walking five more feet, I thought, “Isn’t it so FUCKING WEIRD that we are a species that goes to war? That we have a holiday celebrating the fallen? And it’s all so revved up for all to get even more revved up about?”

Cresskill is a pretty Republican town and Republicans take their wars seriously. You have to fight for freedom, or freedom isn’t free, or you better have lots of tanks and bombs if you want to make sure the world stays open to the pillaging of natural resources, or Remember Hitler?—we had to do it.

Something.

I feel awful for the dead who died in wars, I guess. I had five uncles in WWII, none of whom were even scratched, never mind killed. I have never really been personally affected by the war dead. I do feel it is a very sad for those who have lost their loved ones in battle.

But there is something weirdly football-game-like about putting ugly plastic red, white and blue carnation wreaths in your town triangle. (A cannon, which one can see in many towns, is also weird and even more disturbingly—year ‘round.)

Those wreaths reeked of some sort of civic-national bravado. To me, they gave the impression of bunting, of nationalism, of pride. If one is to put up a tacky public display, wouldn’t a sculpture of a big tear make more sense?