Guest Post by Joe Cantafio
When I was a young boy I remember two very important, and two very different parades in Oak Park, Illinois; the quaint little western-Chicago suburb where I grew up.
I can remember at about the age of four, walking with my Dad to the parade that marched down Ridgeland Avenue, only three-blocks from our home on South Taylor Avenue. The date was May 30th. It is still a very sweet and vivid memory of my Dad, Color Guards, Boy Scouts, Girls Scouts, politicians, little league baseball teams, marching bands, fire trucks and engines, police cars, war Veterans and uniformed Troops. I remember this particular parade because it wasn’t the wild celebration that our 4th of July parade always was.
As a youngster I didn’t understand the difference between the two parades, but I did notice that The Memorial Day Parade, was holier; quieter compared to the other. There were no clowns, or marchers throwing candy to the crowd, in fact, there was a certain reverence at this particular parade especially when the Troops marched by. As I sat at the privileged seat my father cleared for me on the curb, I watched the people in the crowds’ eyes tear up when the WWII Veterans marched by, not realizing that their tears and respectful applause were for those men and women who saved the world about 14-years earlier.
I stopped going to parades when I thought I became too "cool" at the age of 11 or 12. I would use those American Holidays to sleep in. I was all about "me" in those days. It wasn’t until the end of my freshman year in high school that it all sunk in. It was then that the meaning of Memorial Day, a day originally set aside to honor Civil War Veterans, began to sink in. That was the year my cousin Charles Genitti, USMC was killed in Vietnam.
I can remember thinking I was going to sleep-in on Memorial Day 1970, but for some reason I got up earlier than expected, showered, and walked out of the house by myself at about 9:30 AM as if I was pulled by a magnet to the parade on Ridgeland Ave. It was as if time stood still, waiting for me to return. The same patriots lined the street dress in their American colors, a bit older now, but still there, supporting their country. I stood back, behind the crowd as more of an observer this time and watched the children as their parents now let them up-front to the curb. That made me smile.
I watched the fire trucks and engines come down the street first, as the children’s faces all lit up with excitement; putting their hands over their ears as the firefighters and police officers sounded their sirens as they came screaming up the street. The marching bands seemed a bit out of tune, probably like they always were, I just never noticed it when I was a kid.
I stood back and took it all in, leaning against a tree with my hands in my pockets, … trying to maintain my "cool" but feeling like a kid again inside.Finally, towards the end of the parade the Troops came into view, and a feeling came over me that I never expected. When I saw the young Vietnam Vets walking together in their military jackets, but with longer hair, some sporting beards, I saw the crowd start to cheer for them, my eyes welled up with tears. I was beginning to understand their pain. (The whole and real understanding of the Vietnam Veterans plight didn’t come clear to me for 18-more years.) I wanted to see Charlie marching with them. I remember wishing I had worn sunglasses at the time. I thought to myself, … "how can I look cool with tears running down my face?," I clapped and cheered for them as they marched by with their stone-cold, gaunt looks on there faces, and with their chests puffed out in pride. The cheers from the Oak Park crowd was more enthusiastic than I expected, especially with all the controversy about the war making daily headlines in the spring of 1970. Shortly after those Veterans passed by, the parade ended and I was one of the first to leave so that nobody would see my tears.
As I walked home, … trying to keep ahead of the crowd and to keep my red eyes out of view, I had great thoughts of Charlie, and his brother/my cousin, John Genitti, US ARMY, who came back from Vietnam escorting his brother’s coffin. I felt pride as I thought about my father’s service in the US Air Force during WWII. It was great to be an American, even in Vietnam-Era America when those sentiments were not popular.
Years later, I thought of Charlie again in 2004 when my cousin Ryan Joseph Cantafio; USMC came home from Baghdad, with a flag draped over his coffin. I didn’t want to hide any tears for Ryan as I had for Charlie. I wept openly with the entire town of Beaver Dam, Wisconsin, on that cold December day. I felt pain as USMC Major Rice slowly knelt down on the frozen ground of the cemetery in front of Ryan’s parents and family and handed Ryan’s folded flag to Amanda, Ryan’s 21-year old wife. I had one arm around my cousin Jerry and my other around Jerry’s father Al, and we all shed tears of sadness and pride for our young Marine.
Memorial Day means so much more to me now. It’s more than a Holiday, it’s a "holy" day. I actually get a little upset when I see TV commercials showing no reverence to the Troops that died to defend liberty, and making Memorial Day all about some great sale at their store. How does a Memorial Day Sale honor our Troops? How does "50% Off" of anything honor our true heroes? It gives me the creeps.
Every once in a while I’ll hear someone say. "Happy Memorial Day." Happy? No, … it is NOT really a happy day for families of Fallen Heroes, … it truly is a "holy" day of remembrance. I’m sure there are great happy memories shared or maybe even a celebration of life, but it’s not like "Happy New Year," :Happy Thanksgiving" or "Happy 4th of July."
A few years ago I saw a cake in a store decorated with red, white and blue frosting. The top of the cake read "Happy Memorial Day." It just seemed so wrong. I wasn’t alone in my feelings as I said to the lady next to me, "Happy Memorial Day?????" and she said, … " … what were they thinking?" The cakes were stacked high and weren’t selling.
Maybe this year at your backyard BBQ’s, before you serve the burgers and hot dogs, say a prayer for the families of American Fallen Heroes, the real purpose this day was intended to honor. At least think of them. Remember, there is someone missing from those family’s gatherings.
To the families of America’s Fallen Heroes; I will always remember you and the great sacrifice your Brave Warrior’s made to keep us free.
To the parents of Cory Palmer, Phil Frank, Geoff Morris, Derek Argel, Kevin Clark, Matt Maupin, Kevin Greico, Charlie Genitti and Ryan Cantafio; (to name only a few,) thank you for the beautiful gift of your sons. They will always be true American Heroes.
To the families of the troops currently serving/deployed, May God speed. God bless our awesome Troops!
Joe Cantafio is the Exc. Dir. of the National Veterans Museum, and lead singer/guitarist of the 101st Rock Division entertaining Troops on the frontlines and around the world. Joe also promotes Jobs, Education and Health programs for Veterans. www.JoeCantafio.com
