Wrong poem for
Memorial Day ceremonyOn Memorial Day morning, I joined a large group of local citizens in honoring the fallen soldiers who have gone before us in order to secure our freedom.
The service was outstanding! The Lehman family directed the Pledge of Allegiance, patriotic standards ‘God Bless America’ and ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic’ played by the Marching Mustangs, the Gettysburg Address recited by a MVHS graduate, and two beautiful prayers bookended the service. It was a moment to be proud of our country and demonstrate respect with friends and neighbors.
Unfortunately the unity of the morning was fractured by the reading of a very divisive poem that had no place in a Memorial Day ceremony.
The poem was a smorgasbord of partisan talking points celebrating the Greek goddess Athena, promoting the highly controversial 1619 Theory, disparaging our duly elected state representatives and critizing the Pledge of Allegence.
Wrong place. Wrong time.
It’s difficult to understand why such negativity towards our nation would be deemed appropriate as a component in a Memorial Day service?
A spirit of unity was in the air. Friendly conversation, patriotic clothing, veterans in their crisp military uniforms, hands placed over our hearts. Solemn.
Why disrupt this peaceful reprieve with sharp tongued critical commentary of America?
Certainly there is a time for respectful discord, even passionate disagreement. Those discussions make us stronger as a people.
How much better served to spotlight a veteran from Mount Vernon and learn from their story of devotion? Share the intriguing origins of Memorial Day as a national holiday. Focus on the courage of countless Iowans who laid down their life for the United States — dating back as far as the Civil War.
So many positive options.
The personal poem was out of place, unnecessary, and a dark stain on an otherwise wonderful ceremony.
Kyle Telecky
Mount Vernon
Make time for hard discussions on Uvalde, guns I am hearing overwhelming sorrow—overwhelming sorrow—and anger, and anxiety. I feel it, too, as the mother of an elementary-school child and as a teacher who underwent yearly “active shooter” training in a hopeless bid to save my students’ lives if matched against the power of a semi-automatic rifle. People ask, “How has it come to this?” They say, “Our schools, churches, grocery stores, and hospitals have become targets.” People are afraid. They want to know, “Is this our America? Is this our future?”
Unfortunately, when I look to our political leaders in Des Moines, I don’t see them doing the work that needs to be done—instead, I see them stoking our divisions, feeding our fears, urging even harder lines between “us” and “them.”
I daresay it doesn’t matter whether those schoolchildren in Uvalde were future Democrats or future Republicans. Inaction is a betrayal of them all.
When we are entrenched in our divisions, action becomes impossible. And everything that divides us only weakens our ability to work for a just and peaceful world.
How do we heal that division? Do what is the hardest thing to do when your heart aches and your mind is numb—set aside the blame. Set aside the judgment. Sit down with a neighbor who may not agree with you about public policy—sit down with the honest intent to listen. I have done this, and beneath the sharing of pain, I have heard also the deep need for hope.
Hope that we here, in our communities, in our country, are not enemies but neighbors—hope that our pain is not a cry of abandonment but a reason to embrace, fully and authentically, the equal measure of our human vulnerability.
It is not easy to undertake such listening. You must make these opportunities. Identify a friendly front porch or kitchen table. Volunteer at your community center, at your church, for your kids’ ball teams, at a senior center, or in the community garden… Take your pain and transform it. It’s in helping others that we experience the tie that binds us together, and that’s how we uphold our hope.
I know that we can build new coalitions. I have seen it with my own eyes, in fighting the CO2 pipelines. We can overcome divisiveness and uphold the common good. Coming together doesn’t mean that we agree on everything, but it does mean that we respect each other, unconditionally. And such respect makes possible our committed understanding to ensure that firearm-related mortality not continue to be the leading cause of death for our nation’s children.
Jessica Wiskus
Lisbon