Monuments and Memorials

With D working in DC on Saturday, the kids and I snatched the chance to do a quick hike on the National Mall. We focused on the area between the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial. I wanted them to see the war memorials in isolation and so we didn't talk much about presidents or the history of our nation's capital. 

 I wanted them to think as we walked of a very abstract idea, the conflict of war. Thankfully our children have been shielded from this dreaded reality of the world. Sadly too many other mother's children are dealing with the reality of it everyday.

 Giant DC memorials are a great place to think about it. At their age at their level they can think of the this mammoth issue. We started at the World War II Memorial. We found the columns with familiar states' names. I told them how their grandfathers had fought on ships and islands in the Pacific Theater of World War II.

 It was a happy day at this spot. "Honor Flights" had flown in WWII veterans, and the whole place had mobilized to celebrate their contribution. Actors who looked like they had stepped straight out of the forties posed in front of jeeps as if they had been transported straight from North Africa. Soldiers in uniform of every branch of the armed forces stood in front of displays. Music from the forties played and couples danced. Honor guards laid wreaths solemnly at the base of states' columns, though everyone seemed to be smiling. This was a place of great pride and nostalgia yesterday.

 Perhaps the heat of the day set in. Perhaps I didn't have enough snacks. Though hydrated and walking gradually downhill, my kids started to wilt as we walked west first to the statues of the Korean War Memorial (where regrettably I didn't snap a shot) and then to the Vietnam War Memorial. All was silent here. Nobody said a word. The twins clung to me. Joshua scanned the rows and rows of names. It felt as if we were below ground and hidden. The music of the first memorial wasn't audible. I cried behind my sunglasses recognizing the stark contrast of the memorials. I wondered if I could keep my gratitude from dying.

 We took a break, grabbing pretzels and gatorades from a street vendor, and we sat in the shade next to the Constitution Gardens. I stopped talking about soldiers being lost. We looked out at the beautiful sky. A man joked with us. Slowly everyone perked up again. The break from that bought us a little extra time so that we could walk by the White House before returning to our parked car.

We didn't go back before stopping at the flaming sword however. J was drawn to it, and it seemed a fitting final symbol for their two-exposure to devastating events in the world's history.

I don't look forward to the day when they fully understand the catastrophe that war is or the brilliant valor that men and women display when they are scared but still willing to do their duty. I don't think I am prepared to walk them through that yet, but I am grateful that we live close enough to places where they can stand and experience their smallness next to statues or the nobility of a  name etched into stone.