Mendacious (?) Memorials

I meant yesterday to attend the Memorial Day celebration down in Madison. I didn’t, and the reason I didn’t traces to an early morning dream I had. I woke very early (for me), around 5:30 AM, but turned over and went back to sleep ... and dreamed the dream.

I was standing in a crowd at the War Memorial building, listening to a uniformed grey-beard who had a flag draped over his shoulders orate on the glories of war. The people around me were stony quiet … or I was deaf. I could not hear what the speaker was saying. In fact I heard nothing, but I knew from the way he was waving his arms, his words were of the sort normally referred to as a patriotic harangue. When I awoke from the dream I had the impression that I had shouted out, denouncing the man for a fascist storm trooper, or worse. If I had been in my right senses I would have thought well of myself for having cried out, but I was half asleep and was feeling something akin to fear.

I didn’t attend the ceremony. I won’t say that I stayed away out of anticipation that I might embarrass myself by taking an unpopular and uncalled for stand, but the thought certainly crossed my mind that my reason related to the dream.

Later yesterday milady received an email from a friend of ours who had attended. He reported that the main speaker was a man I knew to be a solid citizen, a veteran, a leader of the local boy scout troop, and a man who had been elected (for one term) as the Commonwealth’s Attorney. Our friend said that the speech had started out as a predictable defense of the Iraq War, but for some strange reason had shifted onto hurricane Katrina.

Let me say a bit more about the speaker, and about that “one term.” He had been defeated in his reelection attempt primarily because he had gone forward with the prosecution of a wealthy citizen’s son for a crime that, many thought, could have been overlooked. The son had been apprehended (allegedly, as they say) selling certain body parts of black bears, a federal and a state crime. This county is hunter friendly and would not have blinked an eye if the “DA” had chosen not to prosecute the case. But he did, knowing full well that he was sealing his defeat in the coming election. You have to respect a man of that sort. You may disagree with him on many political issues, but you do not if you are true to your own convictions hold that sort of man in anything like contempt. You may even be caused to question your own understanding of world events.

Something else happened yesterday, last evening to be exact. Milady enticed me to watch a History Channel rendition of the military aspects of George Washington’s career. I’m something of a Washington admirer (aren’t we all) and felt I was not likely to learn anything new from the TV story. And perhaps I didn’t, nothing of a factual nature anyhow. But as I watched and listened I did experience something of an enlightening nature. I already knew that after his failure in New York, and after the fall of Philadelphia to the Red Coats, strong sentiments were afoot to sack Washington as the Commander in Chief of the Army. His men were starving and freezing to death at Valley Forge, mutinies were fermenting, and the American Revolution had, as Dizzy Dean used to say, two chances for success, “slim and none.”

Washington in fact was probably not a brilliant military leader, but he had one thing going for him that nobly fills in for brilliance: he had character. He somehow held the Army together and miraculously kept his command. “The rest is history.”

Milady and I are staunch critics of the current occupant of the White House. For my part I was never much involved in politics until I became convinced that the guy was serious about invading Iraq. I knew that was a foolish adventure, even if on some counts some people might think it justifiable. I remain of that belief. But last night, while listening to the recounting of Washington’s tribulations, I realized that I can no more predict the future than Washington could have in 1777. Certainly, he could never have known that out of his and his army’s hardships the greatest nation on earth would come into being. And just as certainly, neither I nor the Memorial Day speaker here in Madison, nor the current occupant of the White House can know with anything like certainty what the outcome of this adventure will be. I know for certain that the men and women who have died there – ours and theirs – will not be brought to life by any outcome, good or bad, but the chance certainly exists, perhaps equally slim and none, that something good may come of this. It doesn’t seem possible, but then, it wouldn’t have seemed possible to Washington either.

But that’s not what I set out to say. I’m talking about the man who made the speech yesterday. His name is Braxton S. (“Colt”) Puryear. He’s not a personal friend. I don’t think he and I have ever exchanged a word. But by that one act of his when he was Commonwealths Attorney – going against the grain of popular sentiment – I think I know what sort of man he is. He’s the sort we need more of.

I could wax philosophically here and point out that a man such as Mr. Puryear must by his nature have had to stand forward for what he believes, must have had no choice but to put it out into the air, even if people who disagree with him – people like me – might be tempted to shout him down. Granted, he knew he was in friendly company yesterday, but he wasn’t when he stood firm for what the law demanded, he wasn’t when he chose an unprofitable path.

I conclude that “Colt” Puryear spoke yesterday for what he felt was the right thing. He may have been wrong – I think he was (even though I didn’t hear him) – but men of character are too rare to be cast aside for a difference of opinion. Perhaps one day he and I can sit down together, respecting each other, and find a way to work things out. Maybe it’ll be contagious. Maybe if men and women like Mr. Puryear, who are in possession of Washington’s virtue, can get their heads together in mutual respect, maybe if they make it a habit to speak their piece – and their peace – they can change a small part of the world. It’s possible, but … we shall see.