This Memorial Day reflection was part of the Vitality newsletter sent on May 22, 2026. To sign up for Vitality, click here.

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Memorial Day, Then and Now

When I was in kindergarten, our street had a cemetery, an old folks’ home, and a funeral home all within six blocks of each other. (The joke was that you could live and die all on East Middle Street.) Each year, on its way to the cemetery, the Memorial Day parade passed by our front yard. I remember the white-haired men at the front of the parade, and people telling me that they had fought in wars.

As an adult, I live near one of the many towns that claims to be the “birthplace” of Memorial Day. The town cemetery features a statue of three women in hoop skirts, laying flowers on a grave. A plaque nearby tells individual details of their lives.

The narrative of my town, as well as the narrative of the history books in my high school, denies the contributions of Black folks in the 1860s. It neglects to say that in 1865, 10,000 free Black people gathered in Charleston, South Carolina to commemorate the end of the Civil War. They recited Bible verses and sang songs. Among the group were 3,000 children.

The place where they gathered, the town racetrack, had been seized by Confederate soldiers during the war. It became a prisoner-of-war camp where people lived outdoors without shelter. When 260 Union soldiers died from exposure and disease, they were buried in a mass grave behind the grandstand.

After the war, some newly-freed residents of Charleston converted the mass grave into a proper cemetery. They dug up the bodies of the dead and laid people to rest in orderly lines. In doing so, they had the courage to face the sight of partly decomposed bodies. They built a fence around the space, setting it apart from the rest of town. Then people met by the thousands, with flowers, songs, and preaching. One of the first things they did when they were free was to honor the dead.

Honor, Reckoning, and Commemoration

Honor, reckoning, and commemoration were themes of their collective work. They’re also themes in the work of Bryan Stevenson, who will be speaking at the Gathering this summer. Bryan Stevenson has worked with intergenerational groups to gather soil from the places where people have been lynched. He invites people to bring their jars of soil to one large wall where they stand together, bearing people’s names. He acknowledges that for many people, visiting these sites takes bravery.

Knowing that he would be at the Gathering, I recently watched the documentary about Stevenson’s work, True Justice. I wept openly through most of it. Stevenson says: “I think there is a need for a cultural movement that pushes us to remember more.”

Remembering the past, including its grisly parts, takes courage. Teaching children about war takes courage. And while I don’t know how I will observe Memorial Day this year (as a Quaker, as a white woman), I do know that part of it will be meditations on the many forms of courage.

Johanna Jackson

Communications Coordinator