ROCKPORT — The years edge in on the tide and the faces change, but in Rockport, there is forever a quiet Memorial Day, when all the soldiers are remembered, and all the families that have, as Rev. Ralph Miller said this year at Memorial Park, carved out the land with ingenuity, to make a living, and create a town to call home.

Memorial Day 2015 was warm and breezy — and dry — with a hint of rain that would finally come much later in the evening. 

Memorial Day in Camden, Rockport and Lincolnville is a shared event, for it all begins at 7 a.m. in West Rockport, with the first of four observances in the towns. Camden Hills Regional High School Marching Band, along with the local Color Guard, all spend the day moving from West Rockport to Camden to Rockport Village, and then to Lincolnville Center. They break for a quick lunch, but it is a day of respect and remembrance, and hoisting the flags over their shoulders, they give with their gun salutes, their music and taps, and their hearts.

In Rockport Village, citizens gathered on the Goose River Bridge, some bringing foldable lawn chairs, others, plastic Adirondack chairs. Up the hill and around the corner, parade participants gathered at the Rockport Post Office before marching down Union Street, first Memorial Park, then Central Street to the bridge, across, along a short spell of Pascal, and up to the Amsbury Cemetery, where the lilacs stood in full bloom amongst the granite gravestones.

Rev. Miller was again this year’s speaker, an eloquent Rockport native, who manages to both soothe and inspire all with whom he talks, including crowds.

At the park, he said:

We stand here and reflect on those persons who left their homes and families to maintain the freedom and ideals of our great nation. Beginning with the Civil War, this has been a day set aside to reflect and honor those who died in combat, those who enjoined the enemy on the places of battle by land and sea and air.

We look here and see their names etched in stones. We think of their families who asked, will we see them again? Will they return to us?

Some never did.

Others suffered wounds and the loss of ability to walk or to think clearly.

We mourn their loss. We mourn our failures to adequately care for those who need mental, physical or spiritual counsel because of the ravages of military conflict.

At times, we confess that we question the leadership of our nation and those in industry who profit by our involvement in conflict.

We ask, where are the signs of a just and lasting peace in our nation and world?

At the Goose River Bridge

On a small Pacific island, two forces battled one another to overwhelm the other and advance to yet another island. Some of our military still lie lost in a steaming jungle.

Others sank with their ships and yet others fell on the beaches, never to rise again.

Such is the tale we tell of those on the sea who never returned to our shores, but cast their lives away for us, oh so far away.

We cast this wreath upon the waters in sacred memory of those who died upon the seas. Their sacrifice is remembered by us gathered here.

May they rest in the arms of a loving, caring God, who says, oh, my sons and daughters, may those who stand honoring you today remember the sacrifice you made and seek the be patrons of peace and goodwill, that you may not have died in vain.

Come into the place of peace and love I have prepared for you.

At Amsbury Hill Cemetery

We stand on Amsbury Hill, conscious of the history of our families and town this cemetery represents.

Here, we note the unknown and persons who gave their lives to our nation and who, to this day, are not known to us.

Yet, not knowing, we honor their sacrifices and realize if it were not for them, we might not be standing here today.

Over on the slope are my great-grandparents who labored just to stay alive. Families who lost their children at birth. Families stricken with disease and lack of the necessities of life.

There’s the military stone of a Miller who fought in the Civil War. Higher up is Patrick Simonton, shipbuilder in Rockport.

Here, we look across so many gravestones, all with a story to tell of sacrifice in battle, of struggle in carving out the land, of ingenuity to make a living and create a town they could call home.

From the majestic mountains to the harbor, we hear them singing, ever singing.

God Bless America, land that I love.