It is right and deserving that we pause to remember those whose ultimate sacrifice has made possible the rich, full lives we currently enjoy. But this May 26th, I had my sense of grateful debt markedly expanded. Like many millions of fellow Americans, Lorraine and I lined our local main street to view our town’s Memorial Day parade.
‘Twas a pageant of hope. Right after the war veterans, the scout troops came marching – Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, Cub Scouts. Here were young people taught to be self-reliant, but not self-absorbed; encouraged to do a good deed daily; and to discover the value of being helpful, friendly, trustworthy, honest, and much more. Interspersed amongst these came their parents: volunteers in the rescue squad, the public library, and local food pantries. And, of course, those horn-honking, polished red trucks. Our small (3,000 folks) town of Cranbury boasts at least half a dozen fire and rescue vehicles maintained by volunteers. Yes, this may seem a bit overly rosy and I’ve no intention of confering halos of sainthood on every parade participant. But I could not be blind to the caring, compassionate spirit displayed in the groups passing before me. Like valiant soldiers remembered, here also were individuals whose efforts are making possible that rich, full life I currently enjoy. My thanks to all of you marching along in that spirit. You carry a power far greater than any self-serving cavalcade of military hardware can ever possess.