On
the Fourth of July and Thanksgiving, although we may not get our history always
right, we do seem to give at least a nod to the events that gave rise to the
holiday. Presidents Day, however, does present some confusion. Are we honoring
all Presidents, and why would we honor Buchanan? Or is it only Washington? Or
is it Washington and Lincoln? At least by the car and mattress ads
“celebrating” Presidents Day, it seems to be both George and Abe, whose images
are flashed about. In fact, who is being officially honored depends on where
you are. The federal holiday is officially George Washington’s Birthday. It was
once celebrated on February 22 although Washington was born on February 11,
1731, but that was under the Julian calendar that the British then used, which
was eleven days behind the Gregorian calendar. In 1752, the British Empire
adopted the Gregorian calendar, and February 11 magically became February 22,
and 1752 apparently had eleven fewer days than other years. In 1879, Congress
proclaimed Washington’s Birthday as a federal holiday in Washington, D.C., and
extended it to all federal offices six years later with February 22 as the
commemoration date.
I
had a distinctly personal interest in this holiday. I knew that my mother and
Washington had birthdays on February 22 and February 24, but I had trouble
remembering which was which. When that month came, I would look at a calendar
to find the legend “Washington’s Birthday,” and only then would I be sure on
which day to give the mother a card—we weren’t big on gifts. I had problems
starting in 1971 when Congress passed the Uniform Federal Holidays Act, which
stated that Washington’s Birthday would be celebrated on the third Monday of
February. The holiday now falls anywhere from February 15 through February 21,
but never on February 22. Go figure. I am not sure how the mother would have
reacted to all of this.
The
federal holiday honors only George Washington. No federal holiday honors the
other presidents, and certainly not Lincoln’s Birthday, which is February 12.
Do you really think that the South was going to allow a national celebration of
Abraham Lincoln? The states, however, do not have a uniform commemoration. Some
have a generic President’s Day; some have a Washington’s Birthday; some have a
combined Washington/Lincoln Day; and some have separate holidays for Presidents
Day/Washington’s Birthday and for Lincoln’s Birthday. (And thus the holiday can
be Presidents Day, President’s Day, or Presidents’ Day in different part of the
country.) I have been grateful that New York falls into the category with two
commemorations. When I worked as a public defender, it meant that the courts
were closed on both Presidents Day and Lincoln’s Birthday, giving me two
holidays in a short period. And I am still thankful that New York City’s alternate-side-of-the-street-parking
restrictions are suspended on both days.
Whoever
is being officially honored, we do seem to know and give at least a little nod on
Presidents Day to the Father of our Country and perhaps also to the president
who saved the Union.
Do most of us even retain even that
much of the real meaning of Memorial Day? The federal holiday, once called
Decoration Day and celebrated on May 30 but now on the last Monday of May, is
for remembering and honoring those who died while in the military. There may be
a few official speeches somewhere along those lines and there are some of our
older generations who maintain a tradition of visiting the graves of loved
ones, but this somber holiday now seems primarily celebrated as the unofficial
beginning of summer and, for smaller fry, the end or near-end of the school
year. It is not a time for the solemn reflection about the sacrifices of others
but about the joys of the beach and the freedom from homework.
The
name of the federal holiday Veterans’ Day does force us at least to momentarily
think about the purpose of the day—to honor those who served in the military
(Memorial Day commemorates those who died in the military), but
originally its purpose was different. It was Armistice Day, and the armistice
was the one that ended World War I that occurred at the eleventh hour of the
eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918. The following year, President
Wilson issued a message in celebration of Armistice Day, and in 1938 it became
a federal holiday: “a day,” according to Congress, “to be dedicated to the
cause of world peace and to be celebrated and known as ‘Armistice Day.’ ” After
World War II, a movement began to expand the commemoration to include all
veterans, and in 1954, November 11 became Veterans’ Day.
Its
scope has been expanded, but Veterans’ Day does not generate the hoopla of the
Fourth of July, the family rituals of Thanksgiving, or the excitement of the
impending summer of Memorial Day. As a kid, it seemed to be a minor holiday
primarily because our schools did not close. Instead, at a few minutes before
eleven on the eleventh day of the eleventh month our studies were interrupted.
We all stood, and over the school’s public address system, a student, sometimes
recognizably, played taps on what was usually a trumpet. We then sat down and
picked up again with our social studies class.
Even
as an adult, Veterans’ Day seldom has had the impact on me that it should. That
was driven home one year. I had gone to the New York Public Library to continue
some research in newspapers from the Revolutionary War era. The library’s hours
varied, but this project had been going on for months, and I knew all the times
that the library was open. I walked up the many steps between Patience and
Fortitude, the stone lions guarding the entrance, but the door was locked.
Mystified, I walked over to the sign with the library’s times. It should have
been open. I tried the door again. It was still locked, and I noticed that
there was not the usual bustle of patrons and tourists in and out of the
building. Only then I thought about. It was November 11. It was a holiday, and
the library was closed.
I
had planned to spend the day at the microfilm machines, but now I did not know
what to do with myself. Then I heard the faint sound of a band, and I finally
noticed that there was no traffic on Fifth Avenue. I realized that the Veterans’
Day parade was going to pass in front of the New York Public Library. I had
seen many other parades in New York, including ones for St. Patrick’s Day,
Puerto Rico Day, Halloween, and Thanksgiving, but I had never seen one for
Veterans’ Day in New York City. I waited and watched. It made me a bit sad.
Some flags, a couple of bands, and a few people, mostly men, in old uniforms were
marching or being driven in open cars. The really depressing part was that
unlike the crowds and exuberance and the shouts and the vendors of the other
parades, almost no one was watching the procession. Everything seemed lonely
and forgotten.