'Something I have to do': Veterans pay tribute to fallen comrades at Streamwood ceremony
A round table covered by a white tablecloth and surrounded by five empty chairs stood at the Streamwood Veterans Memorial Sunday during the village's annual Memorial Day Observance.
The glasses on the table were inverted - no toasts to be offered, said Master of Ceremonies Capt. Kathryn Servin of Mount Prospect.
A pinch of salt signified tears shed by men and women in the Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force and Coast Guard who never returned from battle, and also by those who miss them.
"Remember them. Remember them. Remember them," Servin said.
The multigenerational crowd in the outdoor plaza was there to remember.
"I do this in honor of them, my way of giving back to the ones that didn't come home and that carried the guilt of being one of the ones that came home. For 50 years," said retired U.S. Army Sgt. Charles Stricker of Streamwood, a member of the village's Veterans Memorial Commission.
"Sometimes it's hard to live with, but this is my way of saying thank you to the Lord for letting me come home to my family when there's so many that I left behind. It's just something I have to do," said Stricker, his eyes moist.
It was as keynote speaker and former combat surgeon Dr. Paul Roach said: "Memorial Day is, for many, an extraordinarily personal day that happens not just once but every single day of the year."
The ceremony - which included Streamwood police and fire department color guards, the Spring Valley Concert Band, the Medinah Highlanders Pipes and Drums and an invocation by Vietnam veteran Sgt. Richard Clyburn of Streamwood's Arnold-Heath Memorial VFW Post 151 - drew people to the circular plaza's three stone tiers and rows of folding chairs on the ground.
Some hope to see more involvement. An overnight vigil held for years, for example, was not this year due to lack of staffing.
"Today there's not many that remember the ones that have died," said Dick Hoppel, 88, of Streamwood. He drove a tank in Korea from 1954-56, in the Army's 24th Infantry Division.
"I was 9 at the end of World War II and our little town in Pennsylvania had seven people killed. We personally knew three that lived on our street right by us, and they stopped in on their way to Europe. Never made it back."