By Ari Rutenberg
For most of us, Memorial Day is just another summer holiday where we gather with our families, drink and eat, and maybe spend 1 second thinking about the true nature of this day.
But for some, this is a day to remember those who they have lost and to reflect on why.
From The Huffington Post:
By Dante Zappala
Sherwood would be 34, still a big brother, a father proud of his
ever growing teenage son. He’d be holding it down somehow — working
like a dog, passionate about his family and the people he served. He’d
know my son. They’d share on equal measure the endless newness and
wonder of life.
Sherwood would be his father’s hope as he fights cancer. He would be his mother’s calm and his brothers’ pride.
Sherwood would be here, present amongst the living, were it not for the war in Iraq.
Four years ago, in the emerging desert summer, an explosion rocked a
suspected chemical munitions factory in Baghdad. A Pennsylvania Army
National Guardsman patrolling the perimeter was fatally wounded when he
was struck in the head with debris. His name was Sherwood Baker, age
30, recently promoted to Sergeant. He had a wife and a child.
My brother is dead. I must repeat that to myself with a quiet
firmness. For many, Memorial Day represents the promise of burgeoning
possibilities, a chance for a BBQ, afternoon beers and family
gatherings. We, however, are consumed with flags, tears and the names
of our dead.
For my family, Memorial Day bookends a season of anniversaries. For
the fourth time now, we have repeated this litany. The last time I saw
Sherwood was in February. The last time we talked was in March. His
last e-mail came days before his death in April. His funeral was in
May. And now we have this weekend to remember him amongst all of the
We remember Sherwood as we work amidst an inspired group of unlikely
activists — Gold Star and Military Families who want an end to the war
in Iraq. We are regular folks, your every day nobodies, whose grief and
vigilance is aimed at preventing further tragedy. We have banged on the
doors in Washington, we have marched in the streets of America. We have
relentlessly called for an immediate end to this hideous debacle.
Despite our efforts, and the efforts of millions of other dedicated
citizens, the war has raged for more than 5 years. Memorial Day offers
us pause, even as men and women, Americans and Iraqis, suffer death and
In this moment as the eye passes over us, I find, perhaps, a single
enlightening parallel. Our heroes who laid down their lives made
courageous and selfless decisions to serve their country. They remind
us that moral courage is nothing we can compensate. Rewards, we pray,
are theirs heaven, for on God’s earth they have lost everything they
We sift through the campaign season hoping against hope that the
political process as we know it will end the war. We are wrong. No
political strategy will end the morass, the corruption, the burning
blanket on humanity that is Iraq. Only moral courage will end the war.
We who choose to stand on those grounds will not profit. The
politicians who join us may not become Committee Chairs, they may not
be re-elected, they may not have buildings named after them. They will
simply do what is right.
As we plead our case, we will only be told intellectual lies about
the need to continue funding the degradation and destruction of a
sovereign society. We will only be asked to believe that our best
interests are being served as death knocks on the doors of Anbar and
I have my purpose. Sherwood cannot enjoy the fruit of life — he
cannot watch his son become a man, he cannot counsel me, he can no
longer raise his voice. There were no material possessions to inherit
from my brother. Even his clothes were too big for me. What I carry of
him now, what I speak in his name, what I raise my son with, represents
all he has left me.
Memorial Day gives us each a chance to embrace the fallen as our
own. Let us distinguish between the nobility of service and the
nobility of this war.
Read the names of the 4081 servicemen and women who have been killed
in Iraq. Each and every one of them is one of you. Common folks,
unlikely heroes. Yes. Willing to sacrifice. Yes. Forever gone. Yes.
Children will never be born, work will never be done, cries will never
Own their sacrifice and then ask yourself if you believe more of
them dying in Iraq will bring justice to the world. Own their sacrifice
for it is we who send them to war, and we who keep them at war.
Ben Cohen is the editor and founder of The Daily Banter. He lives in Washington DC where he does podcasts, teaches Martial Arts, and tries to be a good father. He would be extremely disturbed if you took him too seriously.