Most Americans are apriciating this day as a day off, a day to relax. Kids are thinking about all the fun they'll have on a three day weekend, Parents are thinking of BBQ, and picnics, and load of young adults (somewhere between their teens and their thirties) are drinking themselves stupid. But for a select group, this means being honored. It means *some* people taking time to look at them and say "thank you"
This group are called Vetrans. They come from all walks of life, poor to rich, Highly educated to Barely educated, they even come from all over the world. Almost every country in the world has had at least one of its citizens considdered an American Vetran. What binds these men (and now women) together? One of the most horrible things imaginable. War.
There is little harder for an actual vetran than remembering the scarafices of his/her brethren. For the vetren these are not names and dates or distant foggy memories, these are the most vivid and painful memories imaginable. Men you lived with, and learned everything about, men who were still becoming men, or men who are older and far wiser than you are, are torn apart almost literally. Bodies what had once been the height of physical prowess turned into lumps of barely recognizable flesh more reminicent of fresh meat from the market than a human being.
Some people like being the center of attention. Some like the parrades and the attention heaped upon them in this patriotic environment. Most, don't. In Baisic we had to learn the "Nightstalker Creed" I can't remember the whole thing, but i do remember clearly that we were "quiet prefessionals". To me those are usually the people deserving of praise. Not the ones with the best war stories, but the ones who are always ready to go, gear imaculate.
There are no shortage of Heroes that deserve remembering. For my part I can remember four very clearly. On this day, I do not ask for ribbons tied around trees, or for thank yous in an airport, I ask for silence for those that did not come back.
I supposes it's just as well that I slept through this day. I do not need to see a marathon of war movies, or false platatudes of rememberance. I do not care for people to tell me the importance of this day, or for a chaplin to talk to me about the sacrafices made, and continue making. For me ther was the blissfull ignorance of sleep. I keep thinking back to "a clean well lit place". Sleep is easiest for me when the sun comes up. When the sun is full in the sky. Then I know it is safe, and the night will have no power.