Memorial Day means a lot of things to all of us. I think for those of us who have served, or are still serving, it is a solemn reminder of our commitment to this land we all love and to those with whom we served. Personally, though I really appreciate Veteran’s Day, it is Memorial Day that I am truly grateful for because on Memorial Day, we come together to honor those who have fallen, those who paid the ultimate sacrifice so that we may enjoy freedom.

It brings me great pride to drive down country roads like Route 97 here in Hampton, up Route 44 in Pomfret, or Route 6 in Brooklyn and see all of those American flags waving on telephone poles. I love to see them up and down the street and in the yards of our neighbors. I even like to see the ones that might have been torn a little bit after a big thunderstorm before the Scouts have had a chance to collect them. I’m no Johnny Cash, but as he once so eloquently put it, “I’m mighty proud of that ragged old flag.” As a kid, seeing small towns decorated with American flags always reminded me that summer was almost here. The leaves are out on the trees again, flowers are blooming, once more the sounds of birds can be heard singing in the morning as the dew rises before a hot sunny day. In the evenings we can feel a cool breeze while watching the sun set behind those American flags. Maybe we feel that breeze while driving down the road into the night or maybe while enjoying a quiet evening at home. It invigorates us. These are the kinds of things we remember when we are far away from here. For those of us who put on a uniform every day, prepared to leave our beds and head out into danger in vastly different landscapes, it’s often the memories like these which help keep us going.

My story is not unique. I remember driving through the hot desert, sand constantly blowing in my face, the heat of the sun bearing down on all sides, inescapable. Along the Euphrates River, it was also very humid. Heat indexes rose well above 120 degrees in the summer. I also remember standing in the pouring rain and hail, nothing around for miles but a thick clay-like mud. Of course, it wasn’t just the elements though; we did our jobs under constant threat. Again, my story is not unique. It is the story of the men and women who have braved our seas and our skies. It is the story of those who sweated in the jungles dealing with heat and rain and insects, the story of those who froze in bitter winds on cold unforgiving mountains, those who crawled across Europe to set her free. It is the story of those who lived day and night in trenches as far as the eye can see, or marched thousands of miles in the name of unity here in our own country.  It is the story of those who, even in these very streets of the Quiet Corner behind me, rode to ensure our freedom. Willing to risk their very lives, these men and women faced chaos and uncertainty time and time again with honor in order to preserve and ensure our way of life.

What motivates us to do it? What motivates our military service members to carry on, and to keep on going despite the danger and the elements and the chaos and everything else that comes with war? It’s not simply because we made a commitment, though that is important and certainly we remember that some had little choice. It’s not just because we know that we do it for those who can’t or refuse to do it. While we are often motivated to do it for our families at home, it’s just as often for comradery. It goes without saying that the men and women we serve with become our brothers and sisters. We face it all together and we take care of each other, especially when there is no one else there to do it.

For me, on some of the worst days, what also motivated me were the memories of driving down country roads like these in June, with blue skies overhead. It was for the memories of the beauty of sitting by a river on a summer afternoon just watching the water beetles dance across the stream while trying to catch a fish. I needed to know that places like my small town, places like Hampton, still existed. I needed to know that the people back here cared about what I was doing over there.

When we gather to celebrate Memorial Day, we commit ourselves to honoring those who could not come home. We send the message that we do care. We send the message that we will never forget and that small towns like Hampton still exist and the people who live there are forever grateful to the men and the women who put it all on the line for us. It’s a melancholy and a proud time. We savor our moments together that much more because we know that so many gave their all so we could be here. For them, we take a moment longer to enjoy that evening breeze, to reflect on that waving flag, to rejoice in the laughter of the children we see running around us. They never let us down, and we will never forget them.

Mike Castillo