Listen up, my young, well-meaning, but benighted reader: someone wished me a “Happy Memorial Day” this morning, and I damn near lost my mind. Happy? No. This isn’t a frolic through a field of daisies, some Hallmark-sponsored excuse to crack open a cold one and pretend everything’s peachy. It’s not the “kick-off” of summer.  It’s not just a great time to get a great deal on a new car down at the Fecal Creek Auto Mall.  Today, May 26, 2025, is Memorial Day, dammit, a solemn call to remember the soldiers who bled out on battlefields so we could sit here arguing about the best hot dog toppings. It’s a day to honor the dead, not to slap a smiley face on sacrifice. So let’s cut the crap and dig into what this day actually means, beyond the shallow platitudes.

Memorial Day—originally Decoration Day, born in the shadow of the Civil War back in 1868—exists to commemorate the men and women who died in military service. We’re talking about the ones who didn’t come home, the ones who gave every last breath for a cause bigger than themselves, whether it was storming the beaches of Normandy, sweating it out in the jungles of Vietnam, or facing down hell in the deserts of Afghanistan. It’s not Veterans Day, which honors all who served; this is for the fallen, the ones whose names are etched on gravestones and whispered in prayers. The first official observance saw folks decorating graves at Arlington National Cemetery, a tradition that still holds, and it became a federal holiday in 1971, pegged to the last Monday in May. That’s the raw history, but the meaning runs deeper—it’s about facing the cost of freedom, the kind of cost that leaves families shattered and futures unwritten.

So how do we observe it without turning it into a quasi-patriotic circus? First, ditch the “happy” nonsense and start with respect. Visit a cemetery—Arlington if you’re near D.C., or your local veterans’ plot—and lay a flower on a soldier’s grave. If you can’t get to a cemetery, take a moment of silence at 3:00 PM local time, part of the National Moment of Remembrance, and let the weight of those sacrifices sink in. Fly the flag at half-staff until noon, as tradition demands, to signal mourning before the day shifts to resilience. And if you’re near a military base, listen for the bugle call of Taps at dusk—it’ll haunt you, in the best way.

Don’t just stop at gestures, though. Educate yourself on the stories of the fallen—read about someone like Sgt. William H. Carney, the first Black Medal of Honor recipient, who took a bullet to keep the flag flying during the Civil War, or Cpl. Jason Dunham, who threw himself on a grenade in Iraq in 2004 to save his squad. Their courage isn’t abstract; it’s the kind of raw, unflinching bravery that demands we live better, not just grill better. And if you’re moved, support organizations like the Wounded Warrior Project or the Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors (TAPS), which help families of the fallen navigate their grief.

Memorial Day isn’t just about celebration—it’s a reckoning. It’s about staring into the abyss of loss and vowing to remember, to carry the torch for those who can’t. We can certainly celebrate the freedom the fallen provided for us, but let’s remember to honor the dead with the reverence they deserve. Anything less is a betrayal of the blood they spilled.

N.P.: “The Star Spangled Banner/4th of July Reprise” – Boston