It is Memorial Day weekend as I pen this piece. It is the day we commemorate the lives that were given and lost on the battlefields to secure the freedoms we have in this country. 

When I was a child, Memorial Day was also called Decoration Day. The Boy Scouts and the Girl Scouts would rise before dawn. Their task was to go to the cemeteries with small flags and ribbons to decorate the graves of fallen soldiers. It was a gentle and generous salute to the brave men and women who had taken up the cause and died because of it. This decorating of the gravesites was followed by a parade on the main street in town. Rows of people bedecked in red, white and blue, or holding small flags and wearing red poppies pinned to their shirts lined the boulevard in lawn chairs or perched on fences and curbs in excited anticipation of the Scouts who marched proudly with our nation’s colors held high. The troops of Scouts were followed by veterans who survived the conflicts in which they fought; some still able to fit into the uniforms they once proudly wore. Next to follow were the town dignitaries, the marching band, and the uniformed police contingent, whose highly polished shoes gleamed in the sun. The paraded ended with the fire trucks and town ambulance, rescue and fire personnel clinging to the sides of the trucks. The drivers gently whooped their sirens to the glee of the children in the crowd who either shouted their joy or hid behind their mother’s skirts thumbs fastened securely in their mouths. 

The town folk then disbursed to either the park in the center of town for big picnics of greasy fried chicken, potato salad, sliced tomatoes, fresh fruit and whatever wonderful kind of cookies or brownies the moms made, or to their own backyards to congregate with friends and family over makeshift horseshoe and barbecue pits. Dads held court as lords of the barbecue roasting fresh corn on the cob and grilling thick hamburgers for the waiting buns.

It was the weekend that ushered in the summer season.

I am the granddaughter, daughter, niece, mother-in-law and wife of a soldier, one of whom fell in battle and others who still bear the scars of the battles survived, and one who still serves. It makes me sad that there are no longer parades down the main thoroughfares. No heart-stirring drums beating cadence for the trumpets and clarinets, no Scouts shyly grinning at the crowds and the diffident survivors of those wars.

The only time I see a Scout any more is in front of the grocery store as they sell cookies, hotdogs or car washes.  Memorial Day is simply another three-day weekend, heralded by sale flyers the week before and the day after. It is no longer a community event or a day of appreciation and commemoration of the men and women who fought so bravely in other wars. 

Whether or not we agree with a war in principal, the fact of the matter is, there are many who have done the things that needed to be done and did them, as Tom Brokaw in his book, The Greatest Generation, so exquisitely states, “At a time in their lives when their days and nights should have been filled with innocent adventure, love, and the lessons of the workaday world.” 

Some people think Brokaw’s book is about glorifying war, or simply about what went on in World War II. It is anything but a book about war. It is, quite simply, a book about ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances. They fought the Axis formed by Germany, Japan and Russia. That Axis fully expected to dominate the globe within a decade of their pact. Until the bombing of Pearl Harbor that fateful winter morning, the war was a distant occupation and the problem of other people. It was on that day the war came to American soil. There was no question about what needed to be done. The men and women of the United States did what they had to do.  That is what this book is about.  It is about faith, survival, love, perseverance, hope, honor and personal responsibility. It is about the best things in all of us. 

The Greatest Generation is a compilation of stories about such people as Martha Settle Putney, Charles Van Gorder, MD, Wesley Ko, Lloyd Kilmer, Andy Rooney, Julia Child, Robert Dole, General Jeanne Holm and so many others. Some have been players on the world stage, most others have lived a simple life of service—helping others as a result of their lives as soldiers, sailors, pilots, chefs, POWs, and physicians in the theater of war. This is but a small cross section of the hundreds of thousands of men and women who battled on beaches, in foxholes, trenches and in the skies so that we can play with games made in Japan, rather than growing up having to speak Japanese. (Or German, or Russian)

I was very moved by this book. It is written cleanly and clearly, from a position of respect and gratitude. One of the things I enjoyed the most was the way that each chapter melts into the next. When finished with the tale of one person or family, the ties to the next person were firmly verbally soldered into place despite the fact that these people didn’t know each other. The chapters don’t end abruptly, like a vehicle at a traffic light or the airport shuttle at its terminal. They flow with thoughts of Tom Brokaw from one place to the next as he makes observations based on the many hours of interviews he had and the research conducted. 

The “Greatest Generation” gave birth to the Baby Boomers—my generation. They gave up the spring times of their lives and spent the summers and autumns building a country, its industry, its economy and infrastructure. This is something for which so many of us Boomers never stopped to say, “thank you.” We have been given so much. The generation before taught us what it is to be the home of the brave so that we can well and truly live in the land of the free.

I highly recommend this book with my humble thanks to the men and women who have gone before, and who lived and served and changed the face of our nation. I remember those who gave up their lives with my deepest gratitude.

This was a book that needed to be written. I am glad Mr. Brokaw thought to write it. More importantly, The Greatest Generation is a book that really needs to be read.


At age 10, Anne realized she was never going to get to be Miss America since reading a book was not an acceptable talent. So she went on to get a job and raise a family. Along the way, she fixed meals, picked up toys, helped with homework, and collected a drawer full of rejection slips for her “great American novel.” It was not all bad, however, since she ended up wallpapering a closet with them. She currently designs and creates greeting cards for her tiny company, The Frog Prints, LLC, and also works full-time as a Training Specialist. Anne is currently tethered to reality by a loving spouse, two dogs and the occasional hurricane that blows through Florida, although falling headlong and happily into a book is still her favorite “talent.” She can be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it