The poet Alfred Lord Tennyson would write Crossing the Bar and Tears Idle Tears, "I know not what they mean.” William Wordsworth would speak of “abundant recompense” in Lines Written a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey. Henry Waldsworth Longfellow, in the Psalm of Life, would remind us that though it may be fleeting, we can leave footsteps along the sands of time that can help tell of our trials, our tribulations, and our stories. Paul Laurence Dunbar would note that through our anguish, pain and suffering, We Wear the Mask. Percy Bysshe Shelley summed up grief in When the Lamp is Shattered, while Pablo Neruda describes the inevitability of all things in Nothing but Death. Walt Whitman would hear the seaman's knell in O Captain! My Captain! and Mary Elizabeth Frye would caution us as we pay tribute to the fallen by saying, Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep. These are just a few of the great writers and poets who were able to permanently transcribe their deepest and most intimate emotions into words and inscribe them upon the hearts of mankind. Many of these words, often moving elegies, dirges and memorial tributes, have been a source of inspiration and comfort for multiple generations since they were written.
Another moving memorial reflection occurred on May 30, 1884 in Keene, N.H., when Oliver Wendell Holmes would give one of the most moving tributes to the fallen soldier that the world until then had ever received. He would remind those listening that it was the soldiers who had borne the battle and survived the struggle. It was they who knew best the agony of war, and of the necessary sacrifices that had been freely given. They knew of the hardships, the blood that had been stained, the stench of the rotting corpses, the land ablazed which stood both ravaged and pillaged, and the lonely minds and souls of the men and women who persevered through the dark days of the Civil War and could never be the same, for the voices of their fallen comrades beckoned a constant echo in the night. This prompted Holmes to prophetically proclaim that, "In our youth, our hearts were touched with fire!"
In 2015, as we remember the dearly departed now known as the “Fallen Five,” the children and widows who must bravely carry on, and a city and community that determines to rebuild anew, we can be unfettered and lay perfectly unmolested in humbly beseeching that the never absent paths and divine diligence bestowed upon us by the omnipotent ears of the Almighty are not even in a fleeting moment absent from us. It is well that when casual onlookers, interested parties and wayward souls shall visit our city, and gaze upon the tribute to the Fallen Five, they will learn that Thursday July 16, 2015, became Chattanooga's Memorial Day, a day that was marked with patriotism, courage and heroism, where soldier, civil-servants and citizens stood shoulder to shoulder and made true the mantra, “Chattanooga-Strong.”
It was a day where hate and malice suffered one of it's most crippling defeats. It was a rare occasion that befell us when the hearts, minds and souls of a community acted in concert as one unit. It was a day when the meaning of the red poppy flower, yellow ribbon, community outreach, and commemorative acts like the displaying of the American flag was made plain. And this memorial, perhaps feeble and meager when compared to the resolute spirit and acts of of bravery thus witnessed on that day, will yet serve as a constant reminder of what the day and all days must come to commiserate and represent, valor. For five men, the Five Fallen, and the living who likewise bore the battle, there is erected five names adjoined in five places which will stand as Five Stones of Valor, and in years yet to come and several decades removed from now, when the reflections of this memorial, like the old soldier who begins to fade from our memories, may the Five Stones of Valor Memorial remind us to pay honor to the fallen and in equal measure homage to the living. May July 16 of each year, the spirit of the occasion never fail to escape us.
It is then in great humility, and with a greater amount of solace, that we should ask for God to bless this valley. Bless it for its majestic coves, effulgent gullies and resplendent hills. Bless it for its mighty mountain chains and steadfast ridges standing splendidly affixed. Bless it for its rivers, waters and streams, which names, nourishes and nurtures us. Bless it for its people, who dare to learn, live, and dream the most improbable of dreams. Let our flickering flames yet shine, manifest and yield a glow and radiance that it may seem is aglistened from the highest heavens. Let the truth of our convictions be made whole, applicable and acceptable to all who may join humanity, even until the hour when all sunrises are illimitable and all sunsets are eternal. May our valley be blessed beyond measure forever and ever.
Submitted to the great people of this great valley,
Eric Atkins, M.Ed.