In memoriam

Chuck Sayon, park administrator and sole NPS Ranger at the American Memorial Park in Saipan, welcomed dignitaries and guests to the grand opening of the long-awaited Visitors Center Saturday afternoon this Memorial Day weekend 2005. The Center exhibits a feast of sight and sound (if one be allowed use of mixed metaphors) surrounding the events of WWII in the Pacific, and specifically, the invasion of Saipan, Tinian, and Rota at the tail end of the hostilities against the Imperial forces of Japan.

In the cadenced oratory of trained Baptist Preacher Carl Matthews, Jr., featured speaker and a veteran of the fateful June 17, 1944 invasion, the gathering was treated to compelling images of young soldiers whose lives were cut short, and bodies maimed, by the destructive instruments of war.

Ranger Sayon told visiting 6th graders on a field trip two weeks ago to tread on the grounds of the Memorial Park with reverence for it is a place of many memories, of lives sacrificed under brutal circumstances. Of necessity, that brutality is sanitized a bit at the Center, for indeed, the facticity of the gruesome conflict can be communicated without arousing the concomitant passion that normally accompanies radical discontinuities which viciously disrupt the orderly course of human existence.

Part of the assault on society’s common sensibilities by such movies as “Saving Private Ryan” is the forceful reminder of the brutalities and senselessness of war. Except the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington, D.C., Court of Honors like the one on Saipan tend to save us from reliving the moments when we drank our bitter tears. The brouhaha on Mel Gibson’s “Passion of Christ” was over how our highly abstracted and symbolized depiction of Jesus’ crucifixion embodied in the regular observance of the Eucharist met with the gore of spilled blood. The chalice and the Ustia are too genteel and domesticated to adequately depict the pulsating guts of a human sacrifice.

Ceremonies today at the Susupe Beach Veteran’s Memorial Park will call on the subterranean residues of memories once more. Members of Tom Brokow’s Greatest Generation are fast receding into the sunset of an era now reserved in digital disks and library reference materials. We deign to remember but not primarily for the sake of memory. Borrowing the phraseology of President Lincoln’s famous Gettysburg Address, Mr. Williams reminded his audience that, “it is for us the living, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us … that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedo—and that government of the people, by the people and for the people, shall not perish from the earth. ”

Aaron James Quitogua Tomokane and sister Frances Louise, part of the CNMI young writers who compiled the memories of the Battles of Saipan and Tinian as told by elders in the commemorative book, “We Drank Our Tears,” were on hand for the Center’s opening ceremony. Young Aaron James also previously presented Mr. Matthews with the 60th anniversary commemorative medallion that he wore for the occasion. One hopes that Abe Lincoln’s exhortation would not be lost in Aaron James’ generation.

Indeed, as part of the post-WWII boomers, I was more inclined to listen to General George S. Patton’s admonition, albeit, in his characteristic and well known colorful language, “to let the other guys die for their country” in times of conflicting interests in the global tableau. Consequently, my generation’s ears were perked when Jack Kennedy intoned to “ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.” Chuck Sayon joined the ranks of Peace Corps Volunteers who peopled many isolated and desolate areas around the world to promote Abe Lincoln’s dream. I was privileged to prepare some of them in the common task of social development.

On both sides of the portal to the Center’s exhibits are the images of FDR and Emperor Hirohito, guiding the entryway into a Garapan Street scene. Literal placement was intentional. Heretofore, the understanding of the role of the islanders in global affairs has been that of a passive pawn, caught at the crossroads of the battle between titans, victims of tidal forces beyond their control.

Ancient Greece developed two styles of social organization. The Minoans who preceded the Athenians left their urban centers accessible to the open seas. The Myceneans who preceded the Spartans developed strong walls and firm internal disciplines to protect their mountain strongholds from the incursion of de-estabilizing foreign influences. The former pioneered in chaotic but assertive democracy; the later in defensive martial practices and order. Athens birthed orators and merchants; Sparta spawned soldiers and slaves. This evolved into the dichotomy between the Roman Republic and the Roman Empire. America appropriated the gifts and deficiencies of both.

Aaron James’ generation will have to create newer perspectives on social organizations beyond the above dichotomies. For the world can no longer abide simple dualisms that pit one side against another. Diversity and complexity is the nature of human existence. Our biology reflects that; our social connectedness affirms it. It is no accident that the most exciting, dominant, and extremely challenging invention of our time is called the Internet. It is our connections, like the synapses of our neurons, that will define the nature of our future.

Japan’s PM Junichiro Koizumi, responding to China’s demand that Nipon exhibit more remorse over its mid-twentieth century hostile behavior, asked the world to judge his country on the basis of what it had done since the end of WWII. Theirs has been a war over the Boom-box and the cost-efficient manufacture of MS X-box. In miniaturizing all advances in technology fast, Nippon has moved the loyalty and dedication of the feared and ferocious Ronin into the alleys of the marketplace and the sophistication of the multi-national boardrooms. It’s internal disciplines and consensus methodologies are tendered in the service of commerce and industry.

On the other hand, the children of FDR has since posted AR-supplied and Humbie-equipped temporary tours of duty along the Yellow to South China Seas, Berlin to Granada, the Panama Canal to the Kyber Pass, Bayrut to Al-Kuwayt, Moçambique to Sarajevo, not to mention the operations of Air America out of Saipan, and the clandestine work done in Chile to Khamputya, Prague to the Philippines, Beijing to Buenos Aires. With the White House definitely in a Spartan stronghold mode, this Memorial weekend invites us to a serious pause.

This Thursday, SVES 6th graders will sing their theme song, “We are the Children of Yesterday’s Dreams,” at their Farewell and Recognition ceremony. In their body and their composition, in Aaron James’ generation, are etched the enormous challenge to dare rebuild a global village in Saipan. In their bones pulsates the courage to care for its complex and diverse communities. In their view radiates the vision of possibilities rather than limits of freedom. In their resolve emanates the covenantal mission to share the natural and cultural gifts that has become the heritage of humanness that is theirs for the taking.

Yes, will remember; then let the memories propel us to move on.