ENCINITAS — John Poehler noticed something off.
A set table in front of American Legion Post 416 annually serves as a poignant Memorial Day metaphor.
Poehler, a post member, explained to the more than 100 veterans and attendees that each item had its own meaning. The white tablecloth represented the purity of their intentions in service, the rose symbolized the families and loved ones who keep faith, and the lemon represented the bitter fate endured by service members.
“The salt upon the plate symbolizes the countless tears shed by the families and comrades,” Poehler said before pausing his speech and leaving the lectern to turn the stemmed glass upside down.
“The glass is inverted for they cannot toast with us today,” he said. “Let us remember the soldiers, sailors, airmen, marines, Coast Guardsmen, and guardians who have not returned. Let us remember those taken prisoner, those whose fate is still unknown and those who gave their lives in service to our nation.
“As long as this Post stands, as long as Americans gather in freedom, they will never be forgotten.”
Poehler then led the crowd in a moment of silence as part of the post’s Memorial Day event.
Costello Holt, 13, played “Auld Lang Syne” and “Amazing Grace” on the bagpipe. Leann Atherton strummed an acoustic guitar and sang a song she wrote for her father, a B-52 pilot. Ken Carstens, a retired Navy commander and member of Bugles Across America, played “Taps” on the bugle, and Eve Solis sang the national anthem.
Scouting America Troop 774 posted the colors. Post Adjutant Dennis DeLillo read the roll call of absent comrades. Poehler, alongside his wife Julie, also read John McCrae’s “In Flanders Fields.”
At exactly noon, the flag at the northwest corner of West F Street and Second Street was raised from half-staff to full-staff.
“We try to be precise around here,” said Post Commander Dave Quessenberry.
Quessenberry also read a list of every military conflict since the Korean War and asked those in attendance to stand, if able, to be recognized for their service. He took extra time to recognize several Vietnam War veterans.
“Of all the veterans of all the wars, they’ve been pretty good about bringing them home,” he said, “except for the Vietnam guys. They came home to a welcome which was not very warm.”
Arthur Harris, who flew 22 missions as a B-24 gunner during World War II, said that during wartime, no one asked what you wanted to do with your day.
“It was crazy, because you just got up and flew,” Harris said. “They said, ‘Get up, get dressed and go.’ And that’s the way it was. And you did it day by day.”
He spent more than 200 hours flying over Nazi-occupied territory in the European theater.
“Some of us made it through, some of us didn’t,” Harris said. “I was one of the lucky ones.”
Gary McLean, a Marine combat veteran, highlighted the importance of remembering those who died as individuals, each with stories both told and untold. He said that despite the beauty of the words spoken by those who came to the lectern before him, he wanted to add another layer of specificity.
“Both great, eloquent speeches were about ‘they,’ ‘them,’ ‘those,’” he said. “‘They gave their all.’ ‘We owe it to them.’ ‘Those who sacrificed.’ Today, none of that is coming from me. We’re going to get down into the weeds. We’re going to name names.”
Among the service members he recognized were Seaman 2nd Class Robert Brinkley, Pfc. John Albert, Cpl. Case Kwaak, Army Lt. Sharon Lane and Capt. Elmer Gedeon.
Brinkley died at 17 while fighting fires in Okinawa. Albert died at 23 defending the Pusan Perimeter during the Korean War. Kwaak died at 19 after stepping on a landmine during the Normandy invasion in World War II. Lane died at 26 after being struck by rocket fire while caring for wounded soldiers as a nurse in Chu Lai.
Gedeon died at 27 during an air battle over occupied France after previously playing baseball for the Washington Nationals before the war.
McLean invited attendees to stand and say the names of those they knew who lost their lives serving their country. More than two dozen names were spoken and remembered.
“As long as we remember, we can tell their stories, they’re not lost,” McLean said. “We gave some, but they gave all, and let us never, ever forget the difference.”
The crowd held out imaginary glasses toward the empty seat at the set table and said, “Hear, hear.”
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