BY DAN VALENTI

PLANET VALENTI NEWS AND COMMENTARY

(FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE, Memorial Day 2021) — On this day of remembrance, THE PLANET respectfully asks its readers and especially its commentators and respondents to honor the tenor and tone of today. Those of us who had loved ones that served, those of us who had loved ones that served and never came back, may we remain in deference to the day. May we elevate the somberness as a tribute.

We now present this Memorial Day poem by one of our own, that is, a Berkshire County resident.

For this one sacred and holy day, we present THE PLANET with no ads.

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THE YOUNG DEAD

BY EDITH WHARTON

Ah, how I pity the young dead who gave
All that they were, and might become, that we
With tired eyes should watch this perfect sea
Re-weave its patterning of silver wave
Round scented cliffs of arbutus and bay.

No more shall any rose along the way,
The myrtled way that wanders to the shore,
Nor jonquil-twinkling meadow any more,
Nor the warm lavender that takes the spray,
Smell only of sea-salt and the sun.

But, through recurring seasons, every one
Shall speak to us with lips the darkness closes,
Shall look at us with eyes that missed the roses,
Clutch us with hands whose work was just begun,
Laid idle now beneath the earth we tread—

And always we shall walk with the young dead.—
Ah, how I pity the young dead, whose eyes
Strain through the sod to see these perfect skies,
Who feel the new wheat springing in their stead,
And the lark singing for them overhead!

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In the photo, we see members of the Army’s 99th Infantry Division, 394 Battalion known as “The Battalion’ Babes.” THE PLANET‘s dad, PFC Gino Valenti, stands second from the right. Photo was taken somewhere in Germany, 1945, after the Battle of the Bulge. The 394th saw heavy action in the Bulge. Our father was a member of a rifle squad. Trust me, that flag was hard earned.

Like many of the guys who saw action on the front line, Dad was reluctant to talk about his experiences. He lived to be 96 years old. In that final year, he opened up about some of what he had seen. He did so modestly, in quiet tone. The stories were harrowing and the effect on the listener sobering.

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To everyone in this trying time of division and hostility, be well and realize that our differences do not have to define us. We can gain perspective. We can even put an end to war. Every day, we get the chance to make that choice.

Though it may never come, that day can come, and it would be the greatest tribute ever to all those who lost life prematurely for the just or unjust cause, for there is no such things as a “just war.” There are only unjust causes and the reactions to them.

Again, we ask those who wish to comment to leave a sentiment in honor of the day. THE PLANET shall employ the honor system for this and letting adherence or not do all the speaking.

Blessings to all.

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“Throughout the world the more wrong a man does, the more indignant is he at wrong done to him” — Anthony Trollope.

“OPEN THE WINDOW, AUNT MILLIE.”

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