Remember when it used to be about veterans?
By:Minx McCloud
I haven’t been in a parade since I was a Girl Scout 38 years ago, and although I was a somewhat reluctant participant in a Memorial Day parade Monday, nostalgia engulfed me as I thought about past parades.
I belong to a local business association that participates in all the local parades, but on Monday, someone got their signals crossed. Although we had a snappy (borrowed) Mustang convertible and a driver, there were no members on hand to ride in the car.
Being the nosy type and also secretary for the group, I had ambled over to where the parade was setting up to see what was going on. The driver, realizing that an empty car would have seemed rather odd, persuaded me to ride with him until another member could be found.
Apparently Minx McCloud was a better representative of the group than no representative at all. I had no makeup, no purse, no drivers license, and I felt very self-conscious, but my duty to my organization was clear.
And that’s how I found myself waving to people on Main Street in a small town in New Jersey, throwing candy to the children, recognizing old friends, and in general, feeling like a minor — very minor — celebrity.
I got pretty carried away and when I caught a glimpse of the News 12 cameras, I sat up straight and grinned happily, even though the chance they would use my picture was slim to none.
Suddenly I realized that I was trapped in the strange limbo between what I believe Memorial Day should be and what it has become.
When I was a kid, Memorial Day was a very solemn event. Whether we were in Little League, Girl Scouts or Boy Scouts, we were expected to march in military precision.
There was no talking, no laughter, and no waving to relatives on the side of the road. We looked neither left nor right, and woe to the young lady — from the smallest Brownie to the oldest Senior Scout — who was not wearing clean white gloves with her (impeccably pressed) uniform.
Back then, there was no throwing of candy from cars, no mariachi band (as there was in Monday’s parade), no happy tunes by the high school band, and no strutting cheerleaders. Men had died for our country and Memorial Day commemorated that.
That afternoon, there might be barbecues and games, but during the morning hours, the order of the day was a solemn march to the veterans’ cemetery, where we dared not fidget while local politicians spoke eloquently and interminably about the horrors of war.
We spent the remainder of the morning sweating in the hot sun, placing tiny flags on the seemingly never-ending graves.
It was not a cheerful morning, nor was it meant to be. Every group in the area marched in the parade with solemn pride, the veterans resplendent in their (occasionally too tight) uniforms. Yet they still looked dashing, these soldiers with whom our country’s future had once rested.
The parade often seemed miles long, probably because it was a combined effort of many small towns and featured at least 30 fire engines from the surrounding area.
For me, Memorial Day was a serious observance, not the “unofficial beginning of the summer.” Often I even replied peevishly when someone wished me a “Happy” Memorial Day.
Didn’t they realize that this was a day to honor our dead? It wasn’t supposed to be trivialized by family picnics and volleyball on the beach.
There was a time when a cheerful mariachi band in a Memorial Day parade would have sent me into apoplexy, but through the years, I’ve mellowed considerably. Now I know which battles to fight, and quite frankly, I’m simply grateful to see people coming out for the parade at all.
This year, at a time when people sometimes seem all too apathetic, it was nice to see children standing on the side of the road waving little flags and imitating their grandfathers, who stood at attention and saluted.
I was also pleased to see the number of participants who stayed and listened to the speeches, although I suspect that the promise of free refreshments afterward may have influenced some.
I say, get them to turn out any way you can. If it takes a mariachi band, refreshments or a perky cheerleader to pull folks out of their ennui, then so be it.
Along with the “fun stuff,” there are veterans of at least four wars marching, and spectators will have to look into the eyes of those men and women. They’ll see the pain, the horror and yes, the pride, and they’ll know … they’ll know what Memorial Day is really all about.
And I hope they explain it to their children.
Minx McCloud is a free-lance journalist who writes about life in New Jersey. She can be reached at [email protected].