Memorial Day Memories and Time-honored Family Traditions Remembering World War II & Beyond

My father in his Army Air Corps dress uniform -- World War II.

Memorial Day for most Americans means gathering with friends and family to enjoy the town parade followed by a backyard barbeque. However, for veterans, it often brings up poignant memories of those with whom they served and lost -- young men in the prime of life who "gave their all". These memories for my father never dimmed. During World War II, he was a First Lieutenant in the U.S. Army Air Corps serving as a meteorologist, and later in air traffic control.

I remember attending somber military wreath-laying ceremonies at the nearby cemetery with my dad each Memorial Day. The high school band played all the familiar tunes including the Star-spangled Banner as local leaders acknowledged the ultimate sacrifices of "our boys" and the somber recognition of Gold Star Mothers and families. This presentation, organized by the local VFW each year, was heartfelt and respectful.

But what I'll always remember was my father's response each year. In his nineties and with limited mobility, he slowly rose from his folding lawn chair to solemnly salute as the wreaths were laid and the band played.

Personally, I could never get through this ceremony without weeping but my father was stoic. I could almost read his thoughts and knew full well that he was recalling his comrades -- especially one very close friend -- a pilot -- who was shot down and whose remains were never recovered. My father had saved that young man's last letter before his fateful mission. I found it again recently when I was reviewing my dad's service memorabilia and once more enjoyed the 1940s slang and light-hearted "joshing" the letter contained even though I could feel the gravity between the lines.

My father, Lincoln D. Metcalfe, served in the Middle East and lastly in North Africa. His job was to brief pilots before their bombing missions about weather conditions they'd encounter. He ALWAYS wanted them to know the dew points to avoid icing on their wings. He was such a stickler that the fellas kiddingly referred to him as Lt. Dewpoint! I like to think that thanks to my dad's conscientiousness pilots' lives were less in peril.

Today, sadly, many generations don't know what happened at home (or abroad) during WW II; the sacrifices made by all families or how united Americans were in their contributions to the war effort. So many people today don't even know about rationing -- from flour to sugar to shoes or tires -- much less the symbolism behind the Memorial Day poppy. I still have my family's last ration book from right before the war ended.

For now, I write this remembering my father's service with pride and how he never forgot those companions who made the ultimate sacrifice, even in his nineties. The memories never dimmed. And yes, even though my dad is gone, I still attend the parade, the laying of wreaths, and the picnic afterwards. It's because those traditions mean everything to me, and for that, my father would be honored -- what he taught me, what he embodied for me, will always be in my heart. Thank you for your service, Dad -- and all the other military men and women bravely serving our country today. ###

The above Facebook post dates back a few years now. Unknown to me, this Civil Air Patrol serviceman felt drawn to my dad's marker to lay a Christmas wreath and give a heartfelt salute -- amazingly, their common bond was meteorology.