Monthly Archives: May 2009

Last weekend Karen and I received an impromptu invite from some family members to drive to Bedford, VA, and visit the National D-Day Memorial for Memorial Day. In the absence of other plans, this seemed as good as any, so Monday morning we awoke (much to my chagrin) early and we were off.

The D-Day Memorial isn’t quite completed yet as I understand it, but I was surprisingly impressed with the place. I say surprisingly because war memorials really aren’t my thing, but I firmly believe in observing what a holiday was intended to observe when it rolls around, so we felt it a fitting thing to do. As much as I find myself a pacifist, I think those who have fallen in the barbarism of war should be remembered. Somehow, it is the least we can do.

One of our family members who accompanied us is a vet. Visiting one of these memorials with a vet makes it into a completely different experience. He became very emotional during the visit, and for the remainder of the afternoon I enjoyed dialoguing with him about what may or may not constitute a just war. Those who have served in the military bring a very different perspective to this issue, and when they dialogue with a pacifist such as myself…well, I love our family.

Of course, being that Monday was Memorial Day, there was a ceremony there that didn’t intrigue me so much. I’ve never made any secret of dislike for ceremony, and calling a war monument a “sacred” place as one of the chaplains intoned during one of many prayers left me a bit disconcerted (although he ended the same prayer with a request for peace, which I think does not happen nearly enough). I suffered through the ceremony though, mostly by people-watching. I watched the crowd more than I did the presentation of colors or the playing of “Taps.” I observed those around me salute or place hands over hearts during the National Anthem, and I listened to the way in which the speeches were crafted. To me, the whole ceremonial thing smacked of equating patriotism with faith, which leaves a nasty taste in my mouth (although not as nasty as an opening prayer addressed to the “god of all faiths.” I’m all about being ecumenical, but sheesh…). What I found, however, was that most of the audience, at least those I could observe around me, appeared to be, at best, profoundly moved or, at least, extremely appreciative of the ceremony.

The rest of our visit was spent strolling around the monument itself, with Karen as a brochure-bearing guide, which is the way we tend to engage these things. The artistry in the sculpture was excellent, and the creative manner in which the sculptures were arranged brought my admiration (at one point, the landfall of the invasion itself is re-created with life-size statues, complete with water jetting upward to simulate bullet strikes and a stylized landing craft from which they have emerged). The gardens were arranged as a huge replica of the symbol of Operation Overlord, with a large statue of Eisenhower at the head of the sword, and busts of all of his commanders surrounding the garden, complete with biographical plaques. Even the height of the central monument is significant.

I pondered how different people relate in different ways. Our family members connected primarily through the ceremony, Karen and I primarily through the artistic symbolism of the sculpture and overall design of the Memorial. As much as I dislike ceremony, I recognize its importance, and its difference from ritual (which I find useless a vast majority of the time). Ultimately, though, all of us experienced a deep ushering into remembrance for those fallen in combat and the history of that particular hellish day. That’s what the holiday was for, and the designers of the Memorial enabled this to happen wonderfully. I think I may have found a new appreciation for these things, and certainly have a deeper appreciation of those lives and souls lost during war.

I still stop short of having appreciation of war itself.

Karen is occasionally into old episodes of the Muppet Show. I almost always have the same reaction: she puts in the DVD, I walk out of the room to do something else, convinced that I won’t be interested, only to end up coming back to watch it because it’s just a variety of comedy that isn’t done anymore, at least not done well. Many of the jokes are quick…the type you have to be on point to catch. What I enjoy about them is that they aren’t just pop culture references that only the “cool” will get, but rather cultural and artistic references in general that require education to pick up on. Tonight we watched an episode with Brooke Shields as the guest. The episode centered around the group’s humorously ill-fated attempt to do a comedic performance of Alice in Wonderland. The episode was full of fast references, visual and verbal, to this and many other fairy tales, in such a way that the audience wouldn’t pick up on them if they didn’t know what went with which, and didn’t have time to stop and think because everything kept moving. There was a reference to War and Peace early in the episode, and, my personal favorite, a performance of Jabberwocky! I couldn’t believe my ears, nor could I believe that I was able to still recite a good part of the poem along with the performance.

Why don’t we see comedy like that anymore? Don’t get me wrong, I loved Letterman through my college years, and appreciated the particular brand of humor that came with the late shows. That humor, however, was nothing compared to the educated humor that (even) the Muppet Show was able to provide. I think the reason is that our culture at large just isn’t nearly as educated as it once was.

In college, I watched an episode of Frasier in which a reference was made to someone “yelling ‘Heathcliffe!’ across the moors!” I laughed hysterically. My room-mate didn’t get it. More recently, while brainstorming a writing project for my faith community, I wrote a short piece patterned after A Modest Proposal. The editorial staff rejected it, stating that they had never heard of this essay, and thus were afraid readers wouldn’t understand my piece as satirical.

Is it possible that this many people haven’t heard of Wuthering Heights, or A Modest Proposal? Even if they haven’t read them, to have never heard of them?? The last thing I want to do here is be elitist: there are many, many pieces of literature I haven’t read. I don’t look down on those who aren’t well-read because I know all of us are gifted in different ways. Still, what happened to the level of education that was at one time held as the standard? When did the standard become exceptional?

I see an attempt in educational venues of all types, from faith communities to schools, to “bring down” the knowledge to where the audience is perceived to be. This underestimates the audience and students, whatever their age. Instead, why do we not leave the knowledge where it is and endeavor to bring the audience up to that level? The intense focus on the end result (i.e: test scores) is, I fear, doing a great deal of damage to the fabric of our culture, affirming an under-educated generation and raising one behind it that appears unapologetically ignorant in many realms. Already, the things that matter most are minimized in the name of industrialized progress. Spirituality and the arts are pushed to the back as science is deified. At the risk of pushing too hard with the sometimes sweeping generalizations I’ve made above, I have to sound the alarm: we’ve lost so much already…how will that be compounded when video completely replaces the written word, and language is degraded to succinct bullet-points in outlines?

Hopefully, that is the fear of a dark, alternate future of science fiction, and won’t ever become a reality.

If it does, though, I suppose no one will remember the genre anyway, so the irony will be lost.