Memorial Day brings many great tradi tions. Yesterday we watched some of the tributes on the television and I was struck by the footage of visitors to The Wall in Washington, D.C., to pay tribute to those who lost their lives in Viet Nam. As most people know, the memorial is a triangular shaped wall that is inscribed with the names of every person who died in Viet Nam. It is simple and yet so stirring. And for those who knew someone on that wall, it carries far deeper meaning.

There are the names. They are names that belong to faces, to people who were loved by many. They are names that belong to young boys who remembered winning their first football game, baseball game, track meet or some other competition, who learned how to swim with their parents. You can hear them yelling, “Daddy, Daddy please don’t let go of me or I‘ll sink.” They are names that each of their parents thought of carefully. In some cases, the names end with Jr. or 3rd or 4th. They were remarkable in school. They either got great grades or they struggled through school and had to work harder at it. But they worked at it and even average grades were milestones because they were better than they had ever been.

They are names that women today still associate with their first kiss or first boyfriend, or the man they would have married if he had come back. They are names that surviving best friends describe as, “We went through a lot together, he was the best.” Or possibly “the guy with whom I got into a lot of trouble.” They are names that held secrets, the secrets that draw people together in the intimacy of their relationships. Now those secrets are safe in a grave somewhere.

They were boys who had only recently learned to drive. They were waiting to explore the open road with their newfound freedom when they were pulled out of their comfortable lives and sent to Viet Nam. They dreamed of driving cool cars like a Corvette or a Ferrari, cars that Dad was far too practical to indulge in. It was what they would do when they got back.

They were strong men who led their school sports teams to victories, who had to lead their families because something happened to Dad, who won fights in school after doing everything they could to avoid the confrontation, who were scared of facing the outcome that they ultimately had to face.

Their mothers and sisters still get teary when the names are remembered. Their dads still speak of them. Perhaps they were an only son or a kid brother.

They are also the people around us today. Their names are not etched on a wall, but they have the same dreams, the same loves, the same memories. They are the people we take for granted, whom we push out of our way when we have a goal or mission to complete. They may not rise above the crowd and stand out. But some day they may be a name on a wall. It seems a shame — they may have a remarkable story to tell and we don’t have time to listen.

With Memorial Day just gone by, try to consider those around you. It may very well be the last conversation you will have with this person, who is more than just a name.

A longtime seasonal resident of Vineyard Haven, Tom Rogers lives in Rockville, Md.