Savage Words: Paying tribute on Memorial Day to 42 people I never knew
I was at the Valley Springs American Legion building recently. You’ve likely been there more than me.
I was there to cover the city’s Board of Commissioner meeting, something I’ve done many times for the Journal. But when I was there three weeks ago for the meeting, I stopped when I got to the bottom of the seven steps that meet the sidewalk.
A large rock caught my attention. I’ve walked by the rock many, many times. You’ve likely walked by it, too.
Up until three weeks ago, that rock was just something in my way, something I had to orchestrate my way around as I made my way into-and-out-of the Commissioners meeting. But three weeks ago, I stopped and looked at it.
I looked at it for a long time.
Inside the rock is a plaque honoring 42 servicemembers from the Valley Springs area who fought in World War I. On the left side, it reads: APR 6th 1917. The right side reads: NOV 11th 1918. In the center: ROLL of HONOR our BOYS.
I’m not sure why the plaque struck me the way it did. But it did, and it held me there for several minutes.
Maybe it’s because, for whatever reason, we learn so much more in school about WWII, the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, the Vietnam War or the Korean conflict than we do WWI. Or, it could be that perhaps I just wasn’t paying attention during the WWI section in history class. That could be.
But I don’t think so. WWI happened more than 100 years ago, so maybe that’s why it’s not covered in history books as much? Again, I don’t know, but I’m certain my knowledge of WWII far surpasses that of WWI.
As I stood and looked at those names on the plaque three weeks ago, it truly made me pause. Forty-two names staring back at me, full of life, feeling invincible, eyes full of hope. All gone now.
Valley Springs Mayor and American Legion Commander Rick Larsen told me the plaque was erected in the early 1920s, just a few short years after WWI ended. When it was placed on Broadway Street more than 100 years ago, it obviously meant a lot to those that were there to dedicate it.
That struck me, too. It meant something – something deep – to those folks when it was placed. I’d walked by it several times – you likely have to – and not paid it much mind. Many of us have done the same thing over the past century.
So, I went back on Memorial Day two days ago to look at it again. I read all 42 names out loud. I wonder when was the last time that happened?
Arthur Anderson
Frantz E. Anderson
Jasper Crane
Arthur Carlson
John W. Carlson
Charles R. Doman
Jason Delap
Oliver Gibson
Joseph Hansen
Clinton Harvey
Clifford Harvey
Ethel Harvey
Lawrence C. Hetland
Harold James
Fletcher Johnson
Edward O. Johnson
Walter Johnson
Archie A. McGilvray
Hector J. McGilvray
Duncan A. McGilvray
Virgil Morris
Shelby B. Olson
Philip W. Olson
Chester H. Pinney
George Phillips
Peder L. Philips Jr.
Olaf Rollag
George Royce
Allen Stearns
C. Harry Stearns
Clark Stearns
Lawrence Shafer
George Elmer Shafer
Harold Shafer
Adrian H. Scholten
Wm K. Scholten
Walter A. Scholten
Wesley Smith
Alred Thorvalson
Porter Thulin
J. Dean Urquhart
Harry W. Wright
When I finished, I felt better. I’d encourage you to do the same someday.
When I was younger, Memorial Day meant a day off, a barbeque, a party with friends and family. As I’ve grown older, I’ve appreciated its true meaning more and more.
I went to a friend’s house in Madison after leaving Valley Springs on Memorial Day … those 42 names, still ringing in my head.
But I’m fairly certain the names on the plaque would have wanted me to go to Madison, would have wanted me to visit my friends, to enjoy a barbecue.
That’s the freedom they fought for.
So, I’d like to take a moment in this column to say thank you to those 42 names of people I never knew. And thank you to the countless number of Brandon Valley residents who gave their lives over the years so a guy like me can enjoy baseball games, football games, watch race cars go in circles, enjoy barbecues, enjoy my family … my freedom.
I’ll never walk by that rock in Valley Springs again without, perhaps, a salute, even though I’m not qualified to do so. At the very least, I’m going to give it a tip of the hat. I hope you do the same.
