Originally published in Rock Island Argus - Moline Dispatch - May 21, 2009 - Frank Mullen III
I can't find my shoe polish.
Once I shined my shoes every day, not from vanity, but out of fear of punishment. Now, I do it once a year.
I want to look good on Memorial Day.
I'll even put on a tie and the cap of my veteran's organization. I don't wear these things to attract attention. Rather, I wear them to remind myself who I am. Although I've been a civilian for over two decades, I'm still a Navy man.
Before I head out for the public ceremonies, I'll raise the flag in the front yard. It's faded in spots, and a family of moths once made a picnic of the field of 48 stars. Like me, it's an out-of-shape relic, but I hope you"ll forgive me for displaying it; in 1945, this flag draped over my grandfather's coffin.
Frank Aloysius Mullen joined the Navy during World War I. He served a full career, retired and was called back to service for World War II.
During that war, my father, Frank William Mullen, flew Hellcats from aircraft carriers.
I was not a warrior. I enlisted so late in the Vietnam War that, by the time the Navy doctor said, "Turn your head and cough," the troops were heading home.
I'm the third Frank Mullen to wear Navy blue. My pride in this tradition of naval service, however, is not the reason I fly the family flag each Memorial Day. This flag flies in memory of those who died while serving their country during war.
We often confuse Memorial Day with Veterans Day, Armed Forces Day and the many other occasions upon which we honor past and present veterans. This special day of remembrance sometimes resembles a Star-studded Tribute to the Troops.
Memorial Day is expressly a day to pause, reflect and remember those who gave their lives during war. In our desire to honor these dead, we should remember the things Memorial Day is not.
It is not a day to exalt war.
Twenty years after my father's death, sorting through a box of letters he and my mother exchanged during World War II, I learned, for the first time, that he took part in the fierce battle at Iwo Jima. While I'm as proud of my father as any son could be, I will not insult the gravity of his experience -- like too many, he woke up from his nightmares screaming for years after he came home -- by glorifying war. Ask a combat vet who's willing to talk about it: war is not a John Wayne movie. War is hell.
Just as Memorial Day is not a pro-war rally, neither is it a day of protest. Those who oppose war on principle must remember that many of the wars our country has endured were unavoidable events, thrust upon us by unappeasable forces.
Some were not. Nevertheless, though we may sometimes decry the motives of those who led us into conflict, we honor those who gave their all.
Memorial Day is, above all, not the day to honor living veterans. We have our day in November.
So, I'll be the guy in the cracked, yellowing chief petty officer's shoes on the courthouse lawn on Memorial Day. You need not thank me for my service. While I appreciate your gratitude, I'm attending the ceremony for the same reason as everyone else: to pause, reflect and remember the real heroes.
Still, I'll want to look sharp.
I wonder where that shoe polish is. I haven't seen it since last May.
