Agendas

When we were boys, my uncle, a career Army man, brought my brother and I to Arlington Cemetery. I suppose I was in the sixth grade. We'd gone to the Pentagon and Fort Meade. I think I took my first pictures there with an Instamatic, and specifically remember a shot of the map diagramming the Pentagon's floor plan of concentric rings and radiating corridors, the flash bursting onto the plate glass. The print now somewhere in the flotsam of life, I still have a photographic memory of Arlington.

The Custis-Lee mansion was filled with decorations of the Unknowns from other countries. We waited patiently, as instructed by our uncle, for the hourly changing of the guard. He told us about the "Third Herd," the 3rd Infantry and its contingent making up the Honor Guard. Spit and polish; exact and flawless. Walking the mat. We'd no idea of what we were in for. Totally fascinating, it was. I never forgot, and, if there's any "moral compass" or notion of wandering from the U.S. of A., well, this pretty much puts the kibosh on that.

We went on to John Kennedy's grave. The service covers were still emplaced at the time. The country was still reeling from his murder, factions divisive gaining influence. Quite a lot for boys to handle on the one hand, just the way it is on the other.

We proceeded to walk through the grounds toward the river and the Marine Corps installation. Very impressive. A beautiful day. Nowadays, here in Arizona, we know all about Ira Hayes and his troubles. It's all so mind bending; we wouldn't be so presumptive to see ourselves in his place on Suribachi yet walk in his moccasins for the travails - though, again, we don't have it near as bad. Such a sad story. One of many after their horrid experiences.

My uncle also attended my cousin's funeral soon after. On Long Island. He, a Ranger with the 9th Infantry, was shot down while doing forward air control in the Delta. As the Honor Guard reported and Taps blew, our eyes met, locked, and lit up. It was a "we are not afraid" moment I'll never forget. We held it together while everyone else fell apart. I'd participated in many funerals as an altar boy so was somewhat more rigored in that respect. Death, where is thy sting and all. But a terrible tragedy and we're very grateful through all the controversy.

I'd like to take a ride to the National Cemetery to my parents' repository but the truck is struggling. I've never planted flags like they do; not a veteran, I've never participated in such things. Had a thought to. Frankly, it would merely be a gesture, sure as we are of eternal life. That was what occurred those many years ago when our eyes sparkled... forever like.