In Flanders Fields...

"Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and the success of liberty." --John F. Kennedy

Each Memorial Day weekend, for more than ten years, we've traveled to Northern Wisconsin to visit my Gram. Each year, the time we spend with her is more and more precious. While we're up there, we try to go to the cemetery to visit the graves of my Grandpa (Papa) and Uncle, as well as other family members. It's always a sobering sight, because, being Memorial Day Weekend the local Boy and Girl Scouts typically place flags at the graves of all who have served their country.

Someone once asked if I would be upset if one of my boys wants to join the military when they are of age. Certainly, my mother's heart would be terrified. But upset? No. I would be proud if they choose to serve their country in such an honorable way.

I'm very open about growing up in a military family. While we are especially blessed that my father never had to serve in a combat zone, I nonetheless am extremely proud that my parents raised me to respect military men and women. I'm proud to be an American, proud of our military and our soldiers who serve, and deeply humbled that so many have given their lives to defend our way of life.

And so today, the Diva Family honors and thanks our fallen heroes. Rest in peace, loyal soldiers.

"Memorial Day"

The bugle echoes shrill and sweet,
But not of war it sings to-day.
The road is rhythmic with the feet
Of men-at-arms who come to pray.

The roses blossom white and red
On tombs where weary soldiers lie;
Flags wave above the honored dead
And martial music cleaves the sky.

Above their wreath-strewn graves we kneel,
They kept the faith and fought the fight.
Through flying lead and crimson steel
They plunged for Freedom and the Right.

May we, their grateful children, learn
Their strength, who lie beneath this sod,
Who went through fire and death to earn
At last the accolade of God.

In shining rank on rank arrayed
They march, the legions of the Lord;
He is their Captain unafraid,
The Prince of Peace...Who brought a sword.

--Joyce Kilmer

Good Day!

I can remember visiting my Wisconsin grandparents when I was a child. For lunch, we would usually have leftovers from dinner the night before, accompanied by homemade pickles and some of the famous Wisconsin cheese (California cows ain't got nothing on those fabulous Wisconsin dairy-makers!).

During lunch, my grandma would turn on the radio, which would run the local agricultural report, the weather, and Paul Harvey.

Paul Harvey died yesterday at the ripe old age of 90.

His trademark phrases of "Stand by for news!" and "Now you know the rest of the story" punctuate my memory of those lunches with my grandparents. I don't have too many memories of listening to the radio at home, except for when my dad would listen to ball games out in the garage in the summer, but Paul Harvey will be forever associated with lunches at my grandparents' home.

My Papa died in 1990 and my Grandma, still very much alive, lives in a senior apartment complex. Paul Harvey's voice in their kitchen has been silenced for many years, but will always be alive in the ears of America.

Good Day, indeed.

Loss

"At the temple, there is a poem called 'Loss' carved into the stone. It has three words, but the poet has scratched them out. You cannot read loss, only feel it."

--Memoirs of a Geisha

In my first year of teaching, there was an eighth grader in our marching band (middle schoolers could march with the HS group). He played the French Horn and was one of eleven children in his family. Eleven. In one family.

I couldn't fathom having THAT many children in a home and we got to talking one day. He was explaining the logistics of having that many kids in a relatively modest home. With mom staying home to take care of the kids. And all of them in Catholic schools. When I asked how they did it, his response was simple.

"God will provide."

The family had great faith in their God. True faith that if He brought them to it, He would bring them through it. Over the years, I had the good fortune to teach five of those eleven children and get to know and work with two of the most dedicated parents I'd ever met. The family's faith in God permeated everything they did. Everything.

They need to rely on that faith now more than ever.

Last Friday, that French Horn player, now aged 30, had a massive heart attack, from which he never recovered. Monday morning, he passed away. Thirty years old. He was in graduate school, studying secondary education and Latin.

Although I hadn't had contact with his family in nearly 12 years, a piece of me is gone.

He was the type of kid who was really smart and very funny, with a wise-beyond-his-years, dry sense of humor. Good musician because he played with his heart. Loved drama and band. And his sisters, although you'd never get him to admit it in public.

One spring, as we were preparing for graduation, and playing "Pomp and Circumstance" for the forty-seventh time, I had a brainstorm. I ran a contest for the most creative lyrics to P&C. He won. I've done 19 Commencement Ceremonies since I've been working at Diva U. and I think of him every time.

When asked about the eleven children in his family, he told us that they wanted to have twelve. "You know, like the twelve apostles?"

He was drum major his senior year. Took his leadership role just seriously enough, but had fun too. And just when things were going well, he'd do something to frustrate the bejeezus out of the teachers. Just to keep us on our toes.

An all-around good kid.

I learned so much more from my students than they ever learned from me. I do trust that God knew what He was doing when He took Jacob. But that does not mean that I do not keenly feel the loss. I pray that his family's incredible faith will carry them through this incredible loss.

Rest in peace, dear boy. Rest in peace.

Pie Jesu, qui tollis peccata mundi,

Dona eis requiem.

Agnus Dei,

Dona eis requiem.

Sempiternam.