Managing Leadership^®

Memorial Day is viewed by many in the US as little more than the unofficial opening day of spring – the first long weekend of pleasant weather, suitable for a short trip, a family outing to a ball game, or a few nice days at the beach; a welcome respite before the final sprint towards summer. Many others, however, are indeed careful to take a moment to remember why this day was set aside in our national calendar.

Some remember out of gratitude. Others, out of more immediate reasons – the loss of friends and family, who went off to fight our country’s wars, and who died in service to all of us.

Remembering them. A grievous tradition, honored with pain and anguish by people around the world, and across time.

Not far from where I now live, the mythic war over Troy is reputed to have been fought over three thousand years ago. A few centuries later, the greatest of the classic Greek poets, Aeschylus, commemorated it with these words:

Familiar was each face, and dear as life
That went unto the war,
But thither, whence a warrior went of old,
Doth nought return -
Only a spear and sword, and ashes in an urn!

For Ares, lord of strife,
Who doth the swaying scales of battle hold,
War’s money-changer, giving dust for gold,
Sends back, to hearts that held them dear,
Scant ash of warriors, wept with many a tear,
Light to the hand, but heavy to the soul;

Yea, fills the light urn full
With what survived the flame -
Death’s dusty measure of a hero’s frame!

The world is not short of battlefields, real or mythic. Another lies nearby to that of Troy, but these words, below, about all of those who fell fighting it, and who were interred where they fell, were spoken nearly two and a half millennia after those above, by the combat’s great victor, Mustafa Kemal Ataturk:

Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives . . . You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefor rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us, where they lie side by side here in this country of ours . . . You, the mothers, who sent their sons from far away countries, wipe away your tears; Your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well.

So high a price to pay for such a peace, and to be so mournfully embraced and cherished as the sons of another people, is the death throes of our youth in the savage embrace of battle with those of other nations.

American youth have taken their stand countless times, still do, and always will when called upon to do so, when asked to stride into that awful bazaar in which we gamble their lives for our national interests. Let us do enjoy the marvelous fruits of their sacrifice, of our loss. But let us take a moment, as well, to remember and honor them for it, and to remember that price we pay – that precious gold. Let us consider it well, before we venture into that terrible marketplace where it is paid.

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Note: Tomorrow is Memorial Day in the United States; I will next post on Tuesday.

Note: Due to an anomoly that occurred during (unexpected) maintenance conducted yesterday by engineers at our hosting service, the blog underwent a short period of time Sunday during which it was not visible, or only partially visible and with editing code appearing in the posts. Unfortunately, the latter situation obtained when the feeds were captured and delivered to email subscribers. Should any of you who have subscribed by email wish clean versions of this post (above), please contact me and I will have it sent directly to you by email.

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