Reflections of Valor

"Dedicated with gratitude and respect to all those who served and especially to those who died to preserve freedom."

I had a dentist appointment just this side of Boalsburg on Monday morning. Before the appointment (which went fine, no repairs needed, thank goodness, and thanks for asking!), I built an extra half-hour into my travel schedule so I could visit the military museum grounds.

I have visited the grounds quite a few times, but I have to admit that I've never gone inside the actual museum building itself. The grounds are really lovely: a big, open, grassy field, with flags and memorials and benches. In mid-July, at the same time that State College hosts the Central Pennsylvania Festival of the Arts, with national and international artists participating, the Boalsburg museum grounds host the People's Choice Festival, an event with a more hometown feel, featuring more local artists (and more reasonable prices). My oldest sister usually meets me in Boalsburg and we spend the day visiting the fest, wading barefoot in the creek, eating out, visiting friends, doing whatever tickles our fancy.

I look back and realize I have only posted two photos from Boalsburg in my entire blip portfolio before this: one of the pretty little creek that runs through the museum grounds, and another of the statue of the three ladies decorating graves at the church graveyard across the street (Boalsburg is one of many cities in the U.S. that calls itself "the birthplace of Memorial Day").

On this particular morning, it was the start of a hot day, and the sun was shining brightly on the field. I walked along the little cement walkway, crossed the bridge, and meandered along the World War II memorial, depicted in this photo. The words from the quote listed above run along the bottom of the memorial in large letters. Gratitude. Respect. Freedom. These are very big words.

Here is where I admit to you that I am a pacifist. That I believe there must be better ways to solve disputes than by people killing people. That I do not give my support to the military-industrial complex that finds big business in the killing fields. That, in fact, one of the reasons why my ancestors on my mother's side came to America was because they were pacifists, who refused to fight in wars back in their home country; and thus they moved from Switzerland to Germany to Pennsylvania. It is in my blood, this peace thing. I shall not kill.

Yet, somehow, I find myself pro-soldier. Not in the sense that I give any kind of gung-ho endorsement to a career pursuit of violence, but in the sense that I honor and respect their sacrifices. My heart goes out to the men and women who serve because of a cause they believe in, or some sense of global injustice that demands action. To those who leave their families to go fight and die in a muddy field in a country where they will never see home again. To the ones they have left behind.

And so it was that I, contemplating war and all it means, came upon this wall, which lists the names of local soldiers who fell in World War II. A neat, long, orderly, alphabetical list, which took up several walls of stone. I noticed as I stood there that part of the monument was reflected back onto the wall nearest me. And I placed my head against the cool stone (not yet hot, but it surely would be later), and I admired the reflections as I contemplated the names of those who had been lost. And I honored their sacrifice. And said a quiet prayer for peace.

The song to accompany these reflections of valor: Billy Ray Cyrus, Some Gave All.

P.S. I think I might find war more palatable if it were humans killing certifiable monsters, rather than humans killing other humans. Which is what happens in the Lord of the Rings movies. And so as a bonus to this posting, I present to you Aragorn's speech at the Black Gate, from the film, The Return of the King:

A day may come when the courage of men fails,
When we forsake our friends
And break all bonds of fellowship,
But it is not this day.