Friday, May 24, 2024
Dedicated students, distinguished colleagues and dear friends,
Happy Friday!
As we approach Memorial Day on Monday, we are reminded of the nearly 3 million Americans who have died in battle or of injuries on different days of the year – every day of the year – on and off the battlefields. In reality, they all are Memorial Days!
The reality is heavy, but it is the truth we must contemplate. For me, these sacrifices provoke thoughts of why wars happen at all. These seemingly curious perversions of logic, some argue, follow their own rationale. Rationale that has been studied, taught and “perfected” since time immemorial. From Sun Tzu’s ancient The Art of War to The New Art of War, toThe Art of Modern War, authors throughout history have highlighted mindset, strategy and tactics needed to “win.”
Written history aside, and if a picture is worth a thousand words, then photojournalists have perhaps reduced the glory of war, even in cases in which war is deemed necessary. Now that portable cameras are commonplace, amateur images of destruction and victims are beamed across the world and simplify and reiterate how wars shatter and break apart the world and its occupants. Images of victims from recent and ongoing conflicts bring home a small segment of its reality and hopefully give rise to condemnation and calls for peace rather than cries for revenge. For me, logic fails to justify it, and I resort to a good deal of stoicism to get through an evening news hour when seeing pictures that could bring tears!
Here at home, given the solemness of Memorial Day, we reflect on stories of valor, the vanished past and the dear departed. Mothers and fathers whose heroes live in their hearts and minds and forever contemplate the ultimate sacrifice and the true cost of freedom. I think of the mother who saw her son for the last time before he received the call of duty and “flew into the great unknown.” Then she wrote:
Apple Blossom Time©
Lucille Ley
c. 1955
Each spring at apple blossom time
The gnarled old branches of the trees
In our back yard
Are decked like bridal bowers
With pink-tipped blossoms.
Their fragrance permeates the house
Like rare perfume.
Sad thoughts recall another apple blossom time
When a brave young soldier
My son
Called back to duty from his leave,
Stood with bared head and
Drank in the beauty of the grand old trees.
Each shrub and flower
The dear old familiar faces
As though to hold them in his memory
Through all eternity.
Then, without looking back
Flew into the great unknown
And did not return.
As I read “Apple Blossom Time” and reflect on Ms. Ley’s feelings, I’m reminded of the poem “Bivouac of the Dead,” by the Mexican-American War veteran Theodore O’Hara, that honors “those who did not live to receive their well-earned praise”:
On Fame’s eternal camping-ground,
Their silent tents are spread,
While Glory guards with solemn sounds
The bivouac of the dead.
.
.
Nor shall your glory be forgot
While fame her records keeps,
Or Honor points the hallowed spot
Where Valor proudly sleeps.
Warmly,
-Mo.
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Lucille Ley’s poem is used with permission from the Grinnell College Library, where it is part of the permanent archive.
Mohammad Dehghani, PhD
Chancellor
mo@mst.edu | 573-341-4116
206 Parker Hall, 300 West 13th Street, Rolla, MO 65409-0910
chancellor.mst.edu