A Cry Heard Round The World: Kim Sun-Il died desperate and alone, but he did not die unheard.
Looking At And Longing For Mars: Reflections on a childhood dream.
A Robot May Not Harm a Human Being. Is The Opposite True?: Thoughts on the future rights of artificial intelligence.
Long After The Boys Of Summer Have Gone: What makes a relationship work?
Winter Of Our Feline Discontent: What the cat wants, the cat gets. But what DOES it want?
To Tell The Truth: There may be no honor among thieves, but can't we find it even in a few good men and women?
Should The Human Brain Retire?: We know that we cannot win forever. We know that machines will continue to improve. So why don't we let the human brain retire gracefully now, with honors?
Read Bear Left in:
Chinese
German
Japanese
Korean
French
Italian
Portuguese
Spanish
Translations powered by Alta Vista Babelfish
To learn how services incorporated into this blog may use personal information, click here.
Total entries in this blog:
Published: Sep 16, 2005 01:40 PM
Mon - June 7, 2004
Memorial Day And The National Trust
Born into poverty in Poland near the turn of the century, he came of age just as World War I ravaged Europe and saw that his best opportunities lay overseas in America. To get there, he struck a deal with an officer in the newly-arrived American Expeditionary Force: I'll fight for you if you'll help me secure American citizenship should I survive the war. It must have seemed like a reasonable trade to the officer, who was short on troops, because he promptly sent my grandfather to fight in every major battle in which the U.S. participated. George Shapiro beat the odds and emerged alive—with a Purple Heart but no permanent injuries. It is because of his courage and determination that his descendant can post this entry today, and it is because America kept her side of the bargain that I can do so in comparative safety and prosperity.
Nobody will ever put my grandfather's name on a monument or in a history book. Nor will America long remember most of the individual men and women who fought in World Wars I and II. So in that limited sense, all of them will die as unknown soldiers. But in a larger sense, we who survive them bear eternal testament to a world made better through their sacrifice. And that's why Memorial Day represents hope, rather than tragedy. It's about acknowledging the debt we owe to those who gave their last full measure of devotion in this nation's conflicts, not because they blindly believed that America's policies were always correct, but because they kept their faith that she ultimately strives to do the right things. The death of a soldier is a vote of confidence in the future. It is a ballot cast in blood for the proposition that the world can do better, that we the living are both moral and well-intentioned, and that in the long run our society and its values deserve not only to endure but to prevail. So whether you oppose the current war in Iraq or support it, speak your mind proudly. That soldier died for you.
Ronald Reagan melded a soldier's optimism with an attribute uncommon in politics: sincerity. He believed in his country. He believed in its values. He believed in its allies and the idea that more united us with them than divided us from them. He saw himself as an average Joe doing his best to preserve a sacred trust, a noble heritage to benefit future generations. And if Americans loved him for it, it is only because his conviction in our better nature and in our brighter future was infectious. Even those who opposed his sometimes flat-footed, ill-advised policies—as I did on many occasions—couldn't hate the man behind them.
Reagan never set out to embody America. But in time, he came to represent the ideals many Americans hold dear: loyalty to allies, striving to do the right thing, working hard, never taking one's self too seriously, and passionate conviction married with a concomitant willingness to admit mistakes. How large he looms in the American mind, and how altogether fitting that his public epitaph, announcing his diagnosis with Alzheimer's Disease, was "I know that for America there will always be a bright dawn ahead."
In this time of remembrances, I hope that we will neither lionize fallen soldiers, nor deify a former president—nor overstate the number or the nature of their faults. Let us simply remember their lives and what they stood for. Let us simply vow to build a better future so that our own lives will merit the trust they placed in us and will redeem the debt we owe them.