Memorial Day brings bittersweet emotions.  I remember the holiday from my days as a kid and am filled with pride because of the stories I heard of heroism and the sound of flags flapping in the breeze and the quiet parade where the boots of the color guard tapped the pavement along Main Street.  I’ve also been brought to tears by poetry and music.  In 1987 I was a young reporter working in small town Penn Yan, New York when I heard a woman read Flanders Fields in a broken and halting voice.  It was an unusually chilly day with a strong north wind and I was overcome as I listened and tears filled my eyes.  Last year I wrote about the meaning of the day from a perspective of the fallen and those of us who’ve prospered because of their sacrifice.  You can see my thoughts here.

The last full measure of devotion, courtesy, Bill Colley.
The last full measure of devotion, courtesy, Bill Colley.
loading...

The column is a slight re-working of something I wrote 4 years ago, which you can read at this link.

This morning on Top Story I tried my best to encapsulate my feelings about the day.  I still haven’t done it justice.  You can watch my attempt in the segment that follows below: