Monday, May 28, 2012
A Time To Remember
This morning, against the better judgment of the National Weather Service, I got up early to go running. Since once again completing the Couch to 5K program last month, I have made an effort to go for a half-hour run three times a week, even if, as was the case today, forecasts predicted unseasonably hot temperatures. I'm not a particularly fast runner, but I still benefit, both physically and mentally from the exercise.
Normally, I prefer to run early in the morning to avoid both the sun and crowds of pedestrians cluttering up the sidewalks. Typically, there are still a handful of garbagemen, dog walkers, and other early risers, but nothing to seriously impede my quest to get from Point A to Point B.
This morning, however, was different. The roads were empty. The sidewalks were empty. For all I knew, a neutron bomb could have gone off overnight. The few blocks surrounding my apartment were nearly silent. After a minute or two of waiting, a lone car cruised slowly down a one-way street, paused for the duration of a red light, and continued on its merry way. But that was about it. Silence and stillness on a Monday morning of a sort I haven't seen this side of a snow day.
The reason, of course, was Memorial Day. The early morning errands that normally filled the start of a typical work week have been postponed by virtue of a federal mandate to commemorate the sacrifices of the men and women in America's armed forces.
Or at least, that's the theory. Nowadays, Memorial Day is an occasion for celebration rather than reflection, filled with parades, barbecues, and expeditions to the beach, not the cemetery. Its status as the de facto kickoff to summer has taken on far greater cultural significance than its original purpose. Whether the result of the American public's unmatched capacity to forget the past, the growing disconnect between a largely self-selected military and the rest of the public, or simply a homegrown passion for hamburgers, Memorial Day has become more of a celebration than a commemoration.
Not that I can claim any sort of moral high ground on this front. When I was a public school teacher, I reveled in the extra day off as much as anyone. And while it was less of an issue during graduate school, since semesters tended to wrap up well before the end of May, it was still an occasion to catch up with friends prior to their mass exodus away from Old Ivy in search of new and exotic archives.
This year would, on its surface, seem to reaffirm the patterns established over the past decade. My postdoctoral fellowship offers a relatively flexible schedule, but the office is closed today. Instead of going in and working on any of my ongoing research projects, instead I am fulfilling my patriotic duty by introducing several of my foreign-born colleagues to the great American pastime. Nothing like a trip to a minor league ballpark to celebrate all that is good and noble about this great land of ours.
At the same time, however, I thought it was important to set aside a moment and remember what this day is really all about: remembering. Most of us live with our eyes on a deadline; an article needs to be written, a product needs to be delivered, and it all has to be done on time. We rush around and don't reflect on the wonder of it all. We are so bound up in the quotidian that we fail to see the marvels in the background. As Louis C.K. famously observed, everything is amazing and nobody's happy.
Regardless of one's political stance, taking a few moments on Memorial Day to reflect on where one has been, where one is going, and the people that made it all possible strikes me as a tradition that everyone can support. The fact that this year's celebration comes a week before my official graduation from Old Ivy makes such consideration all the more relevant. In the short term, I'll try my best not to forget about you, oh invisible readership, who have stuck with me throughout the past few years despite my sporadic posting habits. Expect another post sometime in the next few weeks with news about my employment plans for the next year, as well as some exciting travel plans.
In the meanwhile, enjoy what remains of your Memorial Day!
Normally, I prefer to run early in the morning to avoid both the sun and crowds of pedestrians cluttering up the sidewalks. Typically, there are still a handful of garbagemen, dog walkers, and other early risers, but nothing to seriously impede my quest to get from Point A to Point B.
This morning, however, was different. The roads were empty. The sidewalks were empty. For all I knew, a neutron bomb could have gone off overnight. The few blocks surrounding my apartment were nearly silent. After a minute or two of waiting, a lone car cruised slowly down a one-way street, paused for the duration of a red light, and continued on its merry way. But that was about it. Silence and stillness on a Monday morning of a sort I haven't seen this side of a snow day.
The reason, of course, was Memorial Day. The early morning errands that normally filled the start of a typical work week have been postponed by virtue of a federal mandate to commemorate the sacrifices of the men and women in America's armed forces.
Or at least, that's the theory. Nowadays, Memorial Day is an occasion for celebration rather than reflection, filled with parades, barbecues, and expeditions to the beach, not the cemetery. Its status as the de facto kickoff to summer has taken on far greater cultural significance than its original purpose. Whether the result of the American public's unmatched capacity to forget the past, the growing disconnect between a largely self-selected military and the rest of the public, or simply a homegrown passion for hamburgers, Memorial Day has become more of a celebration than a commemoration.
Not that I can claim any sort of moral high ground on this front. When I was a public school teacher, I reveled in the extra day off as much as anyone. And while it was less of an issue during graduate school, since semesters tended to wrap up well before the end of May, it was still an occasion to catch up with friends prior to their mass exodus away from Old Ivy in search of new and exotic archives.
This year would, on its surface, seem to reaffirm the patterns established over the past decade. My postdoctoral fellowship offers a relatively flexible schedule, but the office is closed today. Instead of going in and working on any of my ongoing research projects, instead I am fulfilling my patriotic duty by introducing several of my foreign-born colleagues to the great American pastime. Nothing like a trip to a minor league ballpark to celebrate all that is good and noble about this great land of ours.
At the same time, however, I thought it was important to set aside a moment and remember what this day is really all about: remembering. Most of us live with our eyes on a deadline; an article needs to be written, a product needs to be delivered, and it all has to be done on time. We rush around and don't reflect on the wonder of it all. We are so bound up in the quotidian that we fail to see the marvels in the background. As Louis C.K. famously observed, everything is amazing and nobody's happy.
Regardless of one's political stance, taking a few moments on Memorial Day to reflect on where one has been, where one is going, and the people that made it all possible strikes me as a tradition that everyone can support. The fact that this year's celebration comes a week before my official graduation from Old Ivy makes such consideration all the more relevant. In the short term, I'll try my best not to forget about you, oh invisible readership, who have stuck with me throughout the past few years despite my sporadic posting habits. Expect another post sometime in the next few weeks with news about my employment plans for the next year, as well as some exciting travel plans.
In the meanwhile, enjoy what remains of your Memorial Day!
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