Good morning. And thank you for being here today. It’s an honor to stand with this community in remembrance. In a place like Ely – where people still know their neighbors, where community still means something – seeing people gather like this matters. Because Memorial Day is not just another date on the calendar. It is a responsibility. A moment where we stop – intentionally – and remember something that can never be replaced. Because today is not about barbecues, long weekends, or the unofficial start of summer.
Today is about remembering. Remembering those who left home…and never made it back. Those who stood their post…and gave everything they had. Those who never got the chance to grow old, tell their stories, raise their families, or stand here today surrounded by community. Memorial Day is not about all veterans. It is about the ones we lost. And that distinction matters. And in a town like Ely, that sacrifice feels especially personal.
Because communities like this have always answered the call to serve. Generation after generation, men and women from northern Minnesota left these woods, these lakes, these mining towns, and put on the uniform of this country. Some came home carrying stories they rarely talked about. And some never came home at all. Ely knows that sacrifice personally. During World War II, young men from this community endured one of the darkest chapters in American military history – the Bataan Death March.
Some survived unimaginable conditions as prisoners of war. Some did not. And when you stand at the Ely Area Veterans Memorial, you are reminded that those names are not strangers from some distant chapter in history. They were sons of this town. Young men who walked these streets, sat in these schools, worked beside their neighbors and were loved by this community. That is why remembrance matters so much here. Because in small towns, sacrifice is neve anonymous.
It is personal. I’m a Navy veteran. Any like many of you, I’ve stood beside people in uniform who were just ordinary people. They joked around. They complained about the weather, the food, or the long days. They talked about home. About what they were going to do when they got back. They made plans. And that’s the part we sometimes forget.
The people we honor today were not symbols. They were people with futures. They were sons and daughters. Mothers and fathers. Friends, neighbors, teammates. People who were loved. People who are still missed. There is quiet weight that comes with military service. It’s not always visible – but it’s always there.
And for some families, Memorial Day is not just a ceremony. It is the cost of war. It’s personal. It’s a folded flag handed to them on the worst day of their life. It’s an empty chair of the table. It’s birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, and milestones that will always feel incomplete. So today, we don’t just honor the fallen. We honor the families who carry that loss every single day. But remembrance alone is not enough.
We also carry a responsibility. The greatest way we honor those who gave their lives is not just by remembering them. But by how we choose to live. By how we take care of each other. By how we show up for our communities. By how we make sure service – and sacrifice – still mean something. For those of us who continue to serve through organizations like the Veterans of Foreign Wars, that responsibility does not end when we hang up the uniform.
It continues in the veterans we help. The families we support. The communities we strengthen. And in how we ensure the next generation understands what service really means. Because they won’t understand it unless we teach it. Any they won’t value it unless we show them. In a place like Ely, that matters. Because remembrance here is not distant.
It’s close. It’s real. It’s personal. So today – we pause. We remember. We honor. And we commit ourselves to living in a way worthy of the sacrifice that was made for us.
I’ll leave you with this: Some gave all. And because they did, we have a responsibility to give something back. To this country. To each other. And to the memory of those who never came home. Not just today – But every day. Thank you for being here. Thank you for remembering. And may we never forget.
