On a cold December morning, I double check my layers - Long johns, thick socks, hat – then I check the essentials – phone, iPod, ID. I haven’t been this bundled since Obama’s Inauguration. But today’s cause is a bit more somber. I’m heading to Arlington Cemetery to lay wreaths on the graves. It’s a volunteer project that is not widely publicized (wreathsacrossamerica.org). Even though I rarely volunteer for outdoor projects in the winter, I feel compelled to make the best of it.
So I join thousands of other volunteers on METRO, funneling ourselves towards the exit gates at the Arlington Cemetery stop. We walk into the cemetery in droves – men, women, children – some in wheelchairs, strollers and carry pouches. I am in awe as I watch the crowd gather around one of many trucks that have been packed with wreaths. There is warmth in numbers as we chatter about the weather, our duty to our fallen soldiers and where we may venture to plant the wreaths we receive.
I get a bit teary-eyed as I look around, seeing very few black faces in the sea of gravestones and people. It’s disturbing to think that we have been just as affected by the war as everyone else, regardless of our politics on the issues. Our families have been torn apart as well. But I guess until P. Diddy, Tom Joyner, Michael Baisden or Al Sharpton becomes a spokesperson…well, I’ll leave that alone. But I do find it odd that we have organizations, clubs, churches and community projects that we are involved in but we don’t show ourselves for matters of country – unless there will be press. When will we teach our children the value of their freedom?
I receive my wreaths and begin my trek, thinking of the past wars and conflicts where we’ve lost fighters – spouses, brothers, mothers, aunts, cousins, sisters, fathers – and find my face wet with tears. It’s not easy to control emotions in a military cemetery. For that reason, I steer clear of Section 60, the area where many from Iraq and Afghanistan rest and where some ceremonies are being conducted, some families spending their first holiday without their loved one. Instead I find an area that many have not yet visited and read some of the stones until I feel a twinge in my heart for a name or two. Maybe they remind me of people I know who served in our armed forces, maybe the engraved dates hold some importance or maybe the cold is getting to me. I say a quick prayer for the families left to mourn, position my wreath as beautifully as possible and move on.
Looking up, I can’t help but stand in awe at the beauty of the graves adorned with wreaths around me. Hard to think of a cemetery as beautiful but I’m grateful to have the opportunity to think of it in that way. Ultimately, I am honored to use my time to thank a veteran. And next year, I’ll brave the cold to do it again. Maybe I’ll send info to Essence and BET or just post it on my FaceBook page. Either way, I hope to see you there.