The Unseen Here and Now

The Unseen Here and Now . . .

Stuart Revercomb

Stuart Revercomb is a marketing consultant and joyously married father of four children. He seems to remember someone once telling him he ought to be a writer. "The Unseen Here and Now" -- Thursdays.

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"Thursday's Fare"

JULY 6, 2000

Honoring the Giver(s) of Freedom

Memorial day never had a chance.

Up against the 4th of July with all its music and fireworks and outward signs of celebration, Memorial Day has become the most docile of American holidays -- a point of demarcation for summer, a good reason to roll the grill out to the front curb and eat cheeseburgers with the neighbors.

Perhaps much of the complacency can be attributed to its proximity to its boisterous older brother, The 4th of July, and the fact that the two holidays are really twins, each birthed by the parents of independence and the defense of freedom.

Look at it from a child's perspective: The 4th is loud music and banners and sky rockets bursting and booming with color in the night. Memorial Day is a flag hanging quietly on the front porch and the often sullen talk of family members about relatives or friends who passed away long ago in an event no child can begin to fathom.

But as an adult, it's kind of hard celebrating the 4th of July without pondering the sacrifices that have protected our independence. And, likewise, Memorial Day is surely inclusive of the very first war fought by the very first "Americans" -- 56 of whom were the signers of the Declaration of Independence.

In recent years, I have attempted to find a place somewhere during these often busy holiday weekends to stop and make myself daydream. To conjure up in my mind's eye the vision of a lone infantry soldier trapped in some war, in some muddy and bloody foxhole with the mechanized whiz and scream of shell and shrapnel hot and hellish above him.

I try to imagine his thoughts -- especially those of the confused and tormented individual who knows full well he will perish in the coming moments. I have to remind myself that it is not some movie scene I am witnessing, but one of a million very real moments experienced by hundreds of thousands of individuals. Many came through them with stories of miraculous rescues. Many more did not.

We don't think of these moments as being played out exclusively for ourselves, but in a way, they were, for none of us would be here in any familiar semblance without their having been lived and offered. These men and women, quite literally, made themselves living sacrifices upon our own personal altars.

I wish we honored them better.

Americans spend their freedom in some pretty strange ways. The next time you're at a neighborhood convenience store standing in line, read the headlines on the magazines and note the products behind and around the cash register for sale. It's a plastic and foolish reflection of a society that appears hell-bent on immersing itself in a never-ending stream of meaningless and hollow pursuits.

I'm sure the World Wrestling Federation dolls are good for something -- I just haven't figured out what yet.

On the other hand, there is a great deal of beauty in these strange, if not United, States of America. Take a drive through the country and stop at a little local church because your children have to go to the bathroom and wind up talking to the ladies putting up the 4th of July decorations on the 100-year-old+ wooden pegs. There is a spirit and grace in their smiles that certainly seems worth dying for.

At first glance, one might think such folks are lost in some distant past, but you're likely to receive an email thanking you for stopping by -- if you'll leave your address in the register.

Email. Now there's a good, modern-day example of value offered in varying degrees.

On one hand, email has resurrected the lost art of letter-writing and the wondrously creative and meaningful expression that so many are able to give while writing that they just cannot convey in conversation. On the other hand, it can bring with it an amazing amount of unwanted information, often sent by well-meaning friends or colleagues who seemingly pass on every article or piece of text they have ever come across in cyberland.

But such in-box fluff is worth it in my book because, within all the silly jokes and ridiculous propositions, one often finds the most surprising perspectives on life that would otherwise be missed.

Last week I was on the receiving end of an apparently oft-forwarded email that detailed some little-known facts surrounding the lives of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. Somehow I had always envisioned the signing of the document as a privilege reserved and given to men of letters and means, who, upon completing the task, went home to help finance and support the coming war. I wasn't wrong in this assumption, I just didn't know the whole story.

I do not know the original author, although I have seen it used by Jeff Jacoby of The Boston Globe. He made no mention of a source, so perhaps it is his. The following is the version I received:

Have you ever wondered what happened to the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence?

Five signers were captured by the British as traitors, and tortured before they died.
Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned.
Two lost their sons serving in the Revolutionary army; another had 2 sons captured.
Nine of the 56 died from wounds or hardships of the Revolutionary War.

What kind of men were they?

Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists.
Eleven were merchants.
Nine were farmers and large plantation owners.

These were men of means and well-educated. But they signed the Declaration of Independence knowing full well that the penalty would be death if they were captured.

Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the British Navy. He sold his home and properties to pay his debts and died in rags.
Thomas McKean was so hounded by the British that he was forced to move his family almost constantly. He served in the Congress without pay, and his family was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him, and poverty was his reward.
Vandals or soldiers looted the properties of Dillery, Hall, Clymer, Walton, Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton.
At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson, Jr. noted that the British General Cornwallis had taken over the Nelson home for his headquarters. He quietly urged General George Washington to open fire. The home was destroyed, and Nelson died bankrupt.
Francis Lewis had his home and properties destroyed. The enemy jailed his wife, and she died within a few months.
John Hart was driven from his wife's bedside as she was dying. Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and his gristmill were laid to waste. For more than a year, he lived in forests and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his children vanished. A few weeks later, he died from exhaustion and a broken heart.
Norris and Livingston suffered similar fates.

Such were the stories and sacrifices of the American Revolution.

These were not wild-eyed, rabble-rousing ruffians. They were soft-spoken men of means and education. They had security, but they valued liberty more. Unwavering, they pledged:

"For the support of this declaration, with firm reliance on the protection of the divine providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor."

They gave you and me a free and independent America.

The Founding Fathers had a lot of things right, not the least of which was the quotation above. For to "rely on the protection of the divine providence, while mutually pledging to each other, our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor," may well be the secret to a life well-lived in the eyes of our Creator.

Honor him with yours.