This memorable line was spoken by John Kennedy on January 20, 1961, as part of his inaugural address, considered to be one of the most highly regarded inaugural speeches in the history of our country. Kennedy encased those lines in the stirring conclusion of his address:
Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that
the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans—born in this
century, tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace, proud of
our ancient heritage—and unwilling to witness or permit the slow undoing of
those human rights to which this nation has always been committed, and to
which we are committed today at home and around the world.
And so, my fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you--ask
what you can do for your country.
Kennedy had given much thought to what he might say in his inaugural address. He pondered the disparities between those who are free to speak and pursue their dreams, and those who are trapped by poverty, existential circumstances, or even worse, by political domination and authoritarianism. Those thoughts led him to another remarkable line in his address:
If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the
few who are rich.
Kennedy's words rang like the bells of eternity awakening all off us who had been drowsy in our sleep and unconsciousness. But here began the awakening of a new generation, summoned by a leader we could respect, an individual who himself had served in peace and war, a generation who came in a new way to value the hardships of those who came before us, and those who gave their lives that others may be free and able to pursue their dreams in the brief life given each of us by our Creator.
John Kennedy called us to serve—in combat if need be, in the halls of justice if so elected, in the schools of learning, in the down-to-earth jobs that make our wheels go round, and in the splendid board rooms of our banks and corporations. Kennedy knew the smallness of our planet; its vulnerability, and the coming impact of the destruction of habitats. And in face of the challenges, Kennedy called the young adults of that time to step up and volunteer, whether it be the military or the Peace Corp.
I was part of that young generation. I rallied to Kennedy's call to oppose our segregated institutions, to bring peace and opportunity to the world, and to go to battle if need be.
And so it was that I took upon myself that challenge, readying myself for service with a degree in economics and a commission as an officer in the US Army. Now, with all candor, I confess I supposed I might well serve my country in a desk job in some administrative position in the many Army posts where such service would be necessary.
But such was not to be my fate—or destiny. Oh no, the military deities that decide such things decided I would serve my country as an officer in the field artillery, and furthermore, that I would report to the 76th Field Artillery stationed in Korea at a post with the name of Camp Saint Barbara, who happened to be the patron saint of the field artillery. And this is the prayer of St. Barbara:
St. Barbara, you are stronger than the tower of a fortress and the fury of
hurricanes. Do not let lightning hit me, thunder frighten me or roar of
cannon jolt my courage or bravery. Stay always by my side so that I may
confront all the storms and battles of my life with my head held high and
a serene countenance.
So there I was in Korea, serving as an officer with the 76th field artillery when our troops were awakened on November 23, 1963, by Kennedy's Secretary of Defense, Robert McNamara, who informed us Kennedy had been killed. Shock reverberated throughout our unit. No one knew what to expect. Was this the first act of a foreign power that would then follow-up with a massive air-land-sea attack? Was it a coup attempt? No one knew. I recall my first response was how to respond to an attack, and only a few hours later could I collect my thoughts, and in particular, my deep, deep grief over the loss not only of my President, but the Commander of our military, and—perhaps most important—a heroic figure who had given his all in battle and highest service to our country, and issued a call to serve.
Now I collect myself on this Memorial Day to recall another line from the many spoken by Kennedy.
The ignorance of one voter in a democracy imperils the security of all. (From his
address on voter participation.)
Once again my friends who share my story and my communication in these blogs, I am happy to say I remain as steadfast as ever in Kennedy's call to service as well as his warning that ignorance can imperil the well-being of our democracy. His call and warning, no doubt, reverberate in your mind as well, reminding us of the torch that has been passed to each of us.
May the light of resilience, hope, and courage burn brightly in your homes this Memorial Day 2025.
Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that
the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans—born in this
century, tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace, proud of
our ancient heritage—and unwilling to witness or permit the slow undoing of
those human rights to which this nation has always been committed, and to
which we are committed today at home and around the world.
And so, my fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you--ask
what you can do for your country.
Kennedy had given much thought to what he might say in his inaugural address. He pondered the disparities between those who are free to speak and pursue their dreams, and those who are trapped by poverty, existential circumstances, or even worse, by political domination and authoritarianism. Those thoughts led him to another remarkable line in his address:
If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the
few who are rich.
Kennedy's words rang like the bells of eternity awakening all off us who had been drowsy in our sleep and unconsciousness. But here began the awakening of a new generation, summoned by a leader we could respect, an individual who himself had served in peace and war, a generation who came in a new way to value the hardships of those who came before us, and those who gave their lives that others may be free and able to pursue their dreams in the brief life given each of us by our Creator.
John Kennedy called us to serve—in combat if need be, in the halls of justice if so elected, in the schools of learning, in the down-to-earth jobs that make our wheels go round, and in the splendid board rooms of our banks and corporations. Kennedy knew the smallness of our planet; its vulnerability, and the coming impact of the destruction of habitats. And in face of the challenges, Kennedy called the young adults of that time to step up and volunteer, whether it be the military or the Peace Corp.
I was part of that young generation. I rallied to Kennedy's call to oppose our segregated institutions, to bring peace and opportunity to the world, and to go to battle if need be.
And so it was that I took upon myself that challenge, readying myself for service with a degree in economics and a commission as an officer in the US Army. Now, with all candor, I confess I supposed I might well serve my country in a desk job in some administrative position in the many Army posts where such service would be necessary.
But such was not to be my fate—or destiny. Oh no, the military deities that decide such things decided I would serve my country as an officer in the field artillery, and furthermore, that I would report to the 76th Field Artillery stationed in Korea at a post with the name of Camp Saint Barbara, who happened to be the patron saint of the field artillery. And this is the prayer of St. Barbara:
St. Barbara, you are stronger than the tower of a fortress and the fury of
hurricanes. Do not let lightning hit me, thunder frighten me or roar of
cannon jolt my courage or bravery. Stay always by my side so that I may
confront all the storms and battles of my life with my head held high and
a serene countenance.
So there I was in Korea, serving as an officer with the 76th field artillery when our troops were awakened on November 23, 1963, by Kennedy's Secretary of Defense, Robert McNamara, who informed us Kennedy had been killed. Shock reverberated throughout our unit. No one knew what to expect. Was this the first act of a foreign power that would then follow-up with a massive air-land-sea attack? Was it a coup attempt? No one knew. I recall my first response was how to respond to an attack, and only a few hours later could I collect my thoughts, and in particular, my deep, deep grief over the loss not only of my President, but the Commander of our military, and—perhaps most important—a heroic figure who had given his all in battle and highest service to our country, and issued a call to serve.
Now I collect myself on this Memorial Day to recall another line from the many spoken by Kennedy.
The ignorance of one voter in a democracy imperils the security of all. (From his
address on voter participation.)
Once again my friends who share my story and my communication in these blogs, I am happy to say I remain as steadfast as ever in Kennedy's call to service as well as his warning that ignorance can imperil the well-being of our democracy. His call and warning, no doubt, reverberate in your mind as well, reminding us of the torch that has been passed to each of us.
May the light of resilience, hope, and courage burn brightly in your homes this Memorial Day 2025.
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