Life: Idiotropic

Today we went to the Netherlands American War Cemetary and Memorial in Margraten, Netherlands, only about 30 minutes from our house. Yeah, everything is about 30 minutes from our house, or at least that's what Stella, our trusty GPS system tells us when we get into the car. Then an hour later, we arrive. So she's optimistic. I like that trait. In this case, it only took us about 40 minutes to get to the cemetary - so she wasn't horribly wrong.

Anyway, visiting cemetaries is not my idea of fun, but Kirk wanted to go. Germans visit cemetaries regularly - well, at least the old ones do. Tante Tinny visits the local cemtary at least once a week to tend to the stone and the flowers there. Yesterday I saw her leaving on her bicycle all dressed up with a beautiful dress on, her hair pulled back nicely, pretty shoes, a rake in one hand, and new flowers in her basket. She was heading off to the Friedhof (cemetary) where her husband and brother are buried.
We wound around the south Limburg hills into Valkenburg where we got stuck behind a parade of horse drawn carriages in which people in Victorian age costume sat all prim and proper riding through the town. We saw at least 12 carriages go by while we waited, then the police gave us our turn and we saw another 10-12 carriages lined up in the side street waiting their turn. So it was quite a big crowd. Just another 10 minutes outside Valkenburg was Margraten, a very tiny little town - and then, the cemetary. I was surprised how many people were there. Most were Dutch, but I heard German and English spoken as well. The parking lot was full.
In the front a large map stood on the side showing the movements of troops in 1944-5. This is just a small portion above, but the portion that shows the area where we live. It also shows a small white cross, representing the cemetary just to the west of Aachen or SW of the red letter "A" visible in the photo.
I'm usually very stoic about cemetaries. Not that I don't care, because I do, but I don't usually get worked up emotionally. For some reason, this cemetary got to me. Just standing there at the map made me teary. The entire place was very moving and to see so many people there made it even more touching. To see that this bit of American land - given to us "for perpetuity" as a memorial - is visited regularly, is very nice. The girls were quite, unusually so. Tiara and I walked around looking around.

It was a quiet emotional moment for both her and I until the blasting of the bagpipes at which she and I both looked at eachother and broke into laughter. A women with short curly hair and a pink shirt (SNL's "Pat" for those who know the show), stood by the tower playing the bagpipes for about 15 minutes. It wasn't what I'd expect to hear at an American Cemetary in the Netherlands, but then, expectations are often a bit off here.

In the foreground, blocking the view of the cemetary grounds behind it, is a large tower with a reflecting pool. To the right and left of the oblong pool are two long stone walls (Court of Honor)l etched with the names of the 1,722 Americans whose remains were never found.


These words are inscribed on the tower behind a bronze statue of a woman with three doves at her shoulder and a tree stump with one leafy branch to her right.

Notice the third stone back. Men of Jewish faith were buried under the Star of David. All others under the cross. I was surprised at how many stars were there - an even more personal war, may be, for those men, and a sad one.

Instead of straight rows, the crosses were placed in curves over the 65.5 acres. 8,301 Americans are buried there.

Among the many graves were fresh flowers laid at the base of many crosses. Americans are far away. I wondered who would be leaving flowers there, so fresh and cared for. When we got home later, we looked up the cemetary and read an article that said that when the cemetary began, there was a program for Dutch to adopt graves. They send photos and letters to the families of the lost and promised to take care of the graves forever. Every single grave was adopted and there were even stories of families handing down that responsibility to silblings and other family members as they could not longer go. Those actions speak for themselves. Wish so much anti-American sentiment worldwide, those are the actions, to me, that speak loudest.

From the flag pole we heard the bells eminating from the tower. It was beautiful. Having missed those tunes at our 4th celebratioon, we all stood quietly, contentedly listening to the sounds of America the Beautiful and other patriotic melodies.
Inside the tower, on the side of the graves was a small chapel. The tower was built in a special way to resonate. The visible roof above was a green metal and corrogated like cardboard. The echo created the feeling of being trapped in a bell tower, vibrating as they do in the cartoons. A bit loud for me, but intersting and beautiful to see with lights hanging down low on small wired and a large golden crown suspended in the center of them.