OUR RESOLVE...THAT THE NATION MIGHT LIVE

“…We come to dedicate a portion of it, as a final resting place for those who died here, that the nation might live. This we may, in all propriety do.” Abraham Lincoln

It was a cold 2018 December day in Agawam, Massachusetts, where I found myself in a funeral procession headed to the Veterans Memorial Cemetery for the final disposition of a family member who had served our nation honorably and had now slipped into eternity. We were bringing his body to those hallowed grounds to have our last conversations and to honor his commitment to his country. He had survived the onslaught of the Viet Nam War, though willing to give his life, only to find his mind held prisoner by a congenital disease that would eventually take his life.

I sat quietly in the front seat as my niece’s daughter drove. I wasn’t sure what to expect. This would be my first time to attend such final rites. With so much news of people against people, I wondered how these rites would be. After all, the soldier was black. Would the grounds be expecting him? How would we be treated? At a time when quietness and solitude were needed, my head was filled with the unsettling noise of the day—recent racial and religious incidents of bigotry and intolerance were dramatically being replayed. The noise in my head kept me on edge as the hearse slowly made its way to Agawam.

I am not sure what I expected. I was just uneasy. I simply wanted to see his life and service respected. Having grown up on the Mississippi Delta during the reign of legal segregation, I was well aware of the fact that even death and burial fell prey to my separate and unequal world. Was I expecting protestors to show up and vehemently oppose his burial? I don’t know. I was just inwardly cautious. My past was not quite past. The lingering lessons of Race and Place that marked my life are not easily overlooked and often show up. Even though I was up North as it were, would this be such a time? Having been a young soldier myself …with memories I cherish, I just wanted this new experience to be as memorable. Though deeply loved by his family, the best days of his life had been lived out in various medical facilities. And now this soldier, the black Lieutenant would come to rest alongside “Others” who like him had served our country well.

 We finally arrived. And as we drove through the gate onto those hallowed grounds, pristine and ordered, the quietness demanded respect, a world so different than the one that often lived just beyond those gates. So profound and powerful were these grounds that even the noise in my head quieted. I leaned forward and gazed deeply as our car slowly passed the hundreds of grave markers. They were all equally aligned as soldiers, always and forever at attention. The common grounds that were their homes spoke of a sense of UNITY and COMRADESHIP that seems lost on so many within our society today.

 I was visibly moved but held my emotions close. Coming to grips with the reality of death and this place had given me reason to ponder my role in our society today where seeming so many are easily drafted into personal civil wars.

When our car stopped, I wanted to get out immediately, but was told to wait and we would be directed. And we were… once inside the small intimate chapel, quietly waiting and watching every move made, I would glimpse the America that many had died to ensure. I sat stunned, but proud as the gun salute from the outside penetrated the quietness within the chapel. “It was for him,” I said to myself, “They did it for him.” From where I sat, I could see the honor guard—all older white men—gathered to honor a fellow soldier. And I watched as one from among those who participated in the gun salute quietly slipped into the chapel and knelt in front of my niece who represented the family.

All the while, I watched the young black female airman and a young white male airman standing watch at both ends of the casket as if the deceased had been their kin. Their stately presence seemed to say, he was not a stranger to them. He was one of them. As if the chapel held only his body and my presence, I watched with great reverence as our flag was removed from his casket and handled with so much care and respect. In remembering the earlier unsettling noise from my head, I was now seeing the flag becoming a symbol of all Americans from wherever our ships landed. I knew our possibilities to be our better selves remain limitless. If we can die with our honorable creed directing our actions, surely we can live likewise.

The soldiers seemed so young. Still in their twenties I assumed, yet with military precision and with “time” seemingly suspended, together, they folded the American Flag with dignity and honor and then presented it to my niece. The feeling of unanimity within those hallowed grounds was so powerful, I wanted to bring every American from all corners of our nation, from every farm, from every city, from every street corner, from every political office, from every office building, from every bar and every place of worship to such a place—to see and experience the decency and respect I witnessed that cold December morning as this military funeral service exemplified who we are and what is required to ensure the endurance of our Nation—not the silent monuments that surround the Potomac, but our intentional human acts of unselfishness toward each other. President Lincoln understood this at Gettysburg and so must we on our watch.

No, Agawam, Massachusetts was not Gettysburg, and this was not the ending of the Civil War, but I thought on the words so humbly uttered nearly two hundred years ago:

“We come to dedicate a portion of it, as a final resting place for those who died here, that the nation might live. This we may, in all propriety do.”

I was in such a place—grounds hallowed by death and unselfish service. Such grounds are throughout America and on foreign soil as well where many who now rest had given their last ounce of courage to ensure that our Nation might live. These quiet places are the real reminders of the price paid for such a country as our, whose ideas and ideals still cause the peoples of the world to marvel. In America, the people matter. This we must never forget… as our sisters and brothers march off to war with no guarantee of return to make sure that our Nation lives. And LIVE we must, not as strangers and enemies but as caring neighbors—who for our short time on the planet can leave “UNSELFISH LIFE ACTIONS” worth remembering and passing along…that the NATION might live.  

Every 365 days the calendar turns and we are provided another opportunity to make a RESOLUTION—our personal commitments. For 2019, why not RESOLVE to make one that calls us to unselfish actions on a daily basis…to live our lives among each other so that this government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.

NOTE: Recommended reading to further our RESOLVE...that the Nation might Live: "The Invitation" & "Eight Habits of the Heart"...by Clifton Taulbert