When I was a boy, growing up in Great Neck, Memorial Day was one of my favorite days of the year. Although I knew the parade didn't start until 9 a.m., I was up by 6 a.m. and standing at the corner of Old Mill Road and Middle Neck by 8 a.m.

Long before I could see them, I could hear the marching bands as they made their way north toward the Village Green. In those years, there were often half a dozen bands, one from each high school and junior high (middle schools hadn't been invented yet!) and several others from New York City, who came to march in the fresh air of the suburbs. I loved the John Philip Sousa tunes they played, that called to mind the earliest days of our country, when men and women of principle risked their lives for the liberty we enjoy today.

I also looked forward to the shiny-red fire trucks that led the other vehicles past the crowds that lined Middle Neck Road. The firemen waved to us from their sparkling-clean trucks as the rest of the volunteer firefighters marched behind them, resplendent in their blue uniforms and caps. It was the one day a year that everyone turned out to thank them for their constant vigilance. I applauded with everyone else, hardly understanding the risks they were willing to take to save the lives of people they didn't know.

Somewhere in the midst of the parade were a handful of old soldiers, their uniforms hauled out of cedar chests, pressed and cleaned. They seemed oddly sad as they went by, as though the memory of their comrades who no longer marched was too heavy a burden for their aged shoulders to bear. But march they proudly did every year and we waved our or flags and cheered.

Of course in recent years, the parade has gotten smaller, fewer schools have marching bands and the Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts have long ago outnumbered the soldiers of wars forgotten. Saddest of all has been the thinning crowds along Middle Neck Road. Once you had to get up early to get a good view of the parade. Lately, it seems more people are busy playing tennis or golf than watching the fire trucks and clapping for the veterans.

Perhaps this year will be different. Sept. 11 reminded many of us that the world is still very much a dangerous place. We were at war and we didn't even know it-until the planes started falling on our own cities. Freedoms taken for granted are likely to be freedoms surrendered. Apathy and indifference can threaten America as surely as bombs and guns.

I've never been called upon to bear arms for my country. I've never been called upon to run into a burning building and rescue people from fire and mayhem. But I have been called upon to set aside this one day to applaud those who have. You'll see me on the corner of Old Mill and Middle Neck Road waving my flag and clapping in grateful appreciation for those whose sacrifices should never go unnoticed.