Looking in every direction, thousands of brilliant white cemetery markers rise from a rolling, spring-green landscape.
My unsuccessful attempts to capture with a camera the tremendous scale and respectful serenity of the Arlington National Cemetery remind me of Montana.
No snapshot can portray the immense, magical feeling of our big sky country.
I give up trying to document the orderly sea of headstones, the endless burial sites of men and women who served our country and protected our freedom through all branches of the U.S. military.
I’ve always been drawn to cemeteries. In my mind, I replace every grave marker with a man, woman, or child sitting in a chair. I wish I could pull up a seat and hear their stories. What would I ask them? What can we learn from the past?
Everything, if we listen.
Because I tend to run away from crowds and traffic, I rarely visit big city memorial parks during my travels - I stick to backroad cemeteries.
But this time I didn’t just stumble across Arlington National Cemetery and decide to stop. Oprah sent me there - me and millions of other viewers.
Last week in my Virginia hotel room, I flipped on the television and found a repeat of Oprah’s January 27th show titled, “The Bravest Families in America.” Tom Brokaw was featured on the show, asking U.S. citizens to become more involved with the men and women who are fighting every day and losing their lives in the current wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.
“I, as a political reporter, believe very strongly that this democratic republic cannot have something that involves our blood and treasure assigned to only a very small part of our population, and nothing else is asked of the rest of us,” Brokaw said. “That’s not just unjust. In a way, it’s immoral.”
I agree with Brokaw, and I would like to do more. Realizing we all need to start somewhere, I decided to make the trek through traffic to visit the Arlington National Cemetery. Specifically, I wanted to visit Section 60, also known as the “saddest acre in America.”
Before I went to Arlington, I stopped at my cousin’s home in Richmond.
“You should go see Justin Wickens’ grave,” Trish told me.
I had no idea I had family buried in Arlington; my great uncle was a captain in the U.S. Navy.
A fine mist made the early spring day feel wintery cold. Despite the weather, Arlington National Cemetery was bustling with activity. Visitors arrived by the busload to pay their respects to the more than 300,000 people buried on the 200 acres of land.
Arlington’s grounds are breathtaking, the scale overwhelming. I clutched the damp cemetery map in my hands, attempting to navigate through waves of white stones.
Arlington’s map directed me straight to Justin’s grave in Section 10. Trees weighed down with pink and yellow blossoms hung over his final resting place.
Pain seems more remote in this section of the cemetery. Decades have passed, wars have started and ended. My friend and I were the only visitors in this area.
Stones spill away in every direction - so many people died for this freedom that I now cherish.
Section 60, where service members from Operation Enduring Freedom and Operation Iraqi Freedom are buried, is a totally different place.
Stuffed animals and beer bottles, trinkets and coins, letters and snapshots adorn the uniform gravestones. Loss is fresh, raw, immediate here.
The muddy rows where soldiers were recently buried are marked with tiny nameplates; white stones and green sod will be put into place when workers can get to it.
For some reason, this cemetery - the second largest national cemetery in the U.S. - reminded me of the tiny memorial park in Lennep, Montana.
Several summers ago, a friend of mine couldn’t wait to take me there on our first road trip through Meagher county.
“There’s a great little cemetery just around the bend,” he said, knowing I’d consider the remote, but perfectly-manicured park a great find.
When I first saw the Lennep cemetery, I knew I would like living in this part of Montana.
A well-maintained cemetery is a sign of great respect. A community that honors those who came before us - soldiers, teachers, health care workers, ranchers, writers, families and friends - also protects the needs of present and future generations.
It’s difficult to know where to begin to help.
I start by being thankful, every single day, for those who defend my freedom.
( 0 Votes )
