Three Simple Notes

On Monday in Neptune Park the masses huddled in one accord in the day’s declining light.

Under a brilliant blue sky the sun’s last dazzling rays of the day refracted from the dappled gun-metal grey waters of the Atlantic. With this backdrop, and like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, four Marines stood ramrod straight, holding side-by-side two enduring symbols of America: The Stars and Stripes Flag and the blood-red Marine banner.

The occasion was “Taps at Twilight,” an island tradition held every Memorial Day in remembrance of and in recognition of Veterans of military service, living and dead. Each branch of the military was recognized by the playing of its marching music and the standing recognition of the Veterans. Souls were stirred.

Spectators sat orderly in rows, the very old and the very young. All had come to celebrate a time of remembrance for the occasion. Soon the Marines marched forth, Posting the Colors under the fading shadow of the flagpole. A wreath of colorful flowers, not unlike the faces, heads and clothing of the spectators, preceded a bagpiper, followed by the precise marching of Marines down a green grass corridor. The crowd was silent, absorbing the essence of the moment.

Our group of about 12 had arrived earlier. We set a table under the shade and shadow of a sprawling oak tree. An old-fashioned picnic was unfolding, itself a remembrance of days when towns were smaller, life slower, and time available for such endeavors.

The fried chicken was covered by a red and white checkered cloth, along with casseroles, sandwiches, snacks and sweets. Honorable mention went to the pineapple, tomato, chicken salad and pimento cheese sandwiches…all with mayonnaise on light bread! It returned many, if not most, of us to school lunch buckets, memories of simpler, and perhaps more tasty times.

In a land teeming with the crosscurrents of individual freedoms, such an occasion is one of the few connecting points in our culture that unites us, irrespective of everything divisive. We were Americans today, celebrating together something that was bigger than individuality. For a few hours we laid aside our self-interest and enjoyed the collective spirit that connected us.

Meanwhile, the band played. With hands over our hearts, or salutes, the National Anthem was sung. After a lengthy prayer, appropriate for a nation 238 years old, Georgia’s Governor Nathan Deal offered up appropriate remarks.
The sun set in the twilight’s last gleaming as the Marines Retired the Colors. The evening turned more somber. The student JROTC proceeded slowly down the corridor to the flagpole. The flag was lowered, folded and stored for the night. The tall flagpole stood naked as its golden dome pierced the graying sky.

A mournful trumpet began to sound out the three simple notes of “Taps,” Lights Out, or Gone the Sun…the call that ends the soldier’s day. In the distance its fading echo descended gently upon the declining day.

As we had arrived, so we departed. Chairs folded, picnic tables closed, food repackaged, good-byes said. Individuality had returned. But not without a renewed sense of our collective Greater Purpose and our individual roles in it.

Three simple notes closed the day… three simple notes will renew the morrow. Like death and resurrection, tomorrow’s bugle call is Reveille, also played with three simple notes to the accompaniment of a cannon’s retort. It is a rousing “get ‘em up” tune as the flag is again raised atop the naked flagpole … a renewed America on the go.

So, on three simple notes a new day begins, even as our old day ended. Both remind us of unity in spite of our differences and the redolence of our national pledge. “One nation, under God, with liberty and justice for all.”


Bud Hearn
May 30, 2014