"O YOUTH FOREGONE, FOREGOING!"

One rain-soaked morning last month, I had the opportunity to visit Yale University in New Haven, Connecticut with my family and was given a special tour of its vast grounds and historical buildings by my nephew, a recent graduate of that prestigious institution.  The day was relatively cool and the soft shadows cast by the dappled sunlight as they broke through the trees lining the university's sidewalks gave an aura of peace.  There was a smattering of residual grayish clouds from the rain of the previous night but the sunlight seemed to be winning the battle to dominate.  There were only a few students we spotted on campus being a semestral break so it was quiet and our stroll unencumbered by crowds.  I was impressed by the serene ambiance of its campus as well as the stately grandeur and the unique architecture of its buildings for which the university was famous.   The luxuriant green of its immaculate grounds seemed to be in keeping with the fertile minds that passed through its aged halls and even its mighty gates seemed to breathe with the power and exalted air of American academia.  My nephew, an excellent tour guide, recounted the history of the buildings, the works of art, as well as the monuments dotting the grounds in conspicuous locations.  

I did not expect that my experience visiting this 300-year old academic behemoth, despite its prominence,  would yield anything remarkable.  After all, I had been to other prominent institutions of learning before.  But I was wrong, and  looking back, it was something worthy of a July 4th reflection.  For brevity's sake, I would not comment about every area we visited but only on those relevant to the subject at hand.

Renzo, my nephew, "introduced" us first to Dwight Woolsey who served as Yale's longest president.  Apparently, there was a tall tale that rubbing his left foot would bring luck so I thought I would put it to the test.

One of Yale's buildings was named after him - Woolsey Hall - and it was one of those we visited.  From its outside appearance, nothing set it apart from the other buildings of this famed university.  But inside, I was struck by something  extraordinary.  The entrance to its main room was flanked on opposite sides by walls of names. Interestingly, they were not the names of Yale's  most notable alumni that sat or served in the country's political power structure. Neither did it include the Nobel Laureates that passed through its doors, nor of the 19 justices that graced the mighty U.S. Supreme Court, not even those of the 5 U.S. Presidents that were surely the prototype of this Ivy League university's intellectual elitism.  No, those walls bore the names of less prominent Yale alumni, if prominence was measured in terms of power or prestige, but they gave something far more precious to the country they loved, for they gave it their all - their life.  Etched on those walls of marble were ordinary names of men that performed extraordinary feats of valor. They were Yale's priceless contribution to the cause of freedom,  heroes that fought and died in the wars  that America was involved in. On the threshold to the hall, in between these hallowed walls of names, were these words:

"To the men of Yale who gave their lives in the service of their country during the great world wars. The university has dedicated this memorial that their high devotion may pass to others as a living fire.

O youth foregone, foregoing!

O dreams unseen, unsought!

God give you joy of knowing

  What life your death has bought."

As we continued our tour, a monument to another icon of patriotism came into view - the Nathan Hale statue.  "I only regret that I have but one life to give for my country."  Inscribed in bronze on the base of the statue, these stirring last words captured the courage and defiance of this youthful hero of the American Revolutionary War.  Standing in front of Yale's Connecticut Hall where he once resided, his likeness,  perched proudly in a solemn, dignified stance, is a reminder of countless sacrifices offered by freedom-loving Americans for a cause greater than life.  I stood beside the building with the marker bearing his name and reflected on his short life of 21 years  that denied him of a future filled with promise and countless possibilities.

Yet Nathan Hale and the faceless men with names inscribed on the walls of Woolsey Hall are just among the millions of American heroes whose courage and love of country are the foundations that made America great.  Their remains are not always encased in a vaulted tomb; their deeds are frequently not memorialized in cold marbles; their image are seldom depicted in  a lonely plaque in some forgotten park. But their spirit, that raw, undaunted courage to fight for an ideal, to die for the truth they believe in, shines in the dark nights of tyranny to live once more in the hearts of patriots and free men.  Like the  mythical phoenix, that spirit of courage is reborn in any man who understands that freedom is an unalienable right from a Supreme Creator and not handed out in a random fashion according to the whims of power-driven despots.

America, the greatest country in the world, is a land borne of sacrifice and patriotism of its citizens whose greatest gift bestowed to generations of Americans is what we are celebrating today - FREEDOM!  On this fateful day in 1776, fifty-six American patriots risked their safety, their fortunes, and everything they possessed for a cause and an ideal.  Their sacrifice, stamped with their sacred honor and signed as a hallowed document is a cherished gift, our legacy to greatness. We have a solemn obligation to sanctify that gift, to consecrate that sacrifice thereby giving justice to numberless lives cut short, to tomorrows that never came, to the futures never redeemed.  Today, let us celebrate freedom, knowing that in its sacred altar are the blood of heroes,  and let us pledge:

O valiant souls, departed,

O sons of sacrifice.

We'll live your dreams, undaunted

In freedom's hall of might.

Yale University's tour was a wonderful, informative, edifying  experience.  But before too long, I would probably only retain part of that memory.  I would cease to remember the subtle chill of the day, how the green, damp grass on its immense grounds felt under my feet, how the bright brick-encrusted walls of some of its buildings belied their age.  I would forget the aura of age-old intellectualism that seemed to bounce off its library of ancient volumes that, for a book-lover like myself,  presented an irresistible magnetic pull.  One of these days, I would no longer recall the almost reverential awe I felt entering its massive gates. But there was one thing I would always remember:  that through those gates heroes entered and departed and we are a free people because of them and others like them.  Hopefully, like the magic luck from  Dwight Woolsey's shoe,  thinking about what they  had given us  would rub on some obscure patriotic spot in our heart and the lucky charm of freedom would never slip away from our grasp.  Today, let us remember and honor those who fell in the dark of night.  Let us pay homage to the selfless acts of valor of countless Americans from every walk of life who offered the ultimate sacrifice for our country that we might be blessed with a resplendent gift  - freedom in all its brilliant facets! May we be worthy, I pray.