Once again, we have come to that special day when some pause to ponder the sacrifices made for liberty, as well as to remember loved ones whose lives are now only memories.

I can recall that Memorial Day was a sort of mixed-up time in my younger days. In my preteen and early teen years, the holiday was not widely observed in the parts of the South that I haunted. School was in session, but as kids we were more excited about the summer months off than a single holiday. The lone exceptions were in 1958 and 1959, when, while I was living at Fort Belvoir, Virginia, the Army-run schools were closed in observance of the solemn day.

I do well remember Memorial Day, 1958, when we as a family watched live the televised ceremonies at Arlington National Cemetery. On that occasion, two unidentified American soldiers, one from World War II and the other from the Korean War, were given a resting place in the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. The hallowed site was renamed the Tomb of the Unknowns.

I do remember May 30 for a special reason. On that date in 1967, my paternal grandfather died. He was a hero to me. Wounded in World War I, he also caught a bit of mustard gas on the Western Front in 1918. He was a heavy smoker, unfortunately, and while the poison gas did not help him, he succumbed to lung cancer at age 69. His death and funeral cast a pall of sadness over my graduation from high school.

In the years that followed, during the wars in Southeast Asia, Memorial Day was a rather low-key event. Yes, the Indianapolis 500 ran, but I do not recall many public activities to commemorate the holiday. This was when many American families were seeing loved ones return in flag-draped coffins.

I recall the change in the Memorial Day observance from May 30 to the last Monday in May. I opposed that change then, and I oppose it now. That holiday, along with others, was moved primarily to give people a long weekend and more time off from work. I still believe we lost the meaning of the holiday when it became nothing more than extra leisure, rather than a time to meditate on the what and why of what was formerly known as Decoration Day.

On the upcoming holiday, I will think about my parents and their parents. While I miss them, I believe they would be saddened and shocked to see what the nation and the world have become. Practically everything they worked and sacrificed to bequeath to us, from a strong work ethic to integrity in government to simple manners and the way we talk to one another, is now being torn down or burned down. Think about it.