The Field of Memories Evolves

PART TWO | EVOLVES

The Field of Memories was never meant to stay the same.

It has grown quietly, steadily, almost imperceptibly. What began as an idea and heartfelt gesture in 2016 has emerged, ten years later, as a pillar of remembrance, etched into Arlington’s seasonal rhythm. But it did not get there by remaining static.

In its earliest form, the Field was modest. There were the 400 flags, installed reverently by a small team of volunteers. Even then, it carried weight. People paused. Flags rippled with solemnity. A tradition was beginning, in spirit if not yet in scale.

Then came 2017.

By every measure, it was a turning point. It signaled that the Field was a destination, not merely a tribute. That spring, the number of flags doubled from 400 to 800. But it wasn’t just a matter of magnitude but also a matter of passion. That year, a UPS adjacent nonprofit called Operation: Ramp It Up for Veterans deployed dozens of volunteers to help install the flags. Remembrance had burst into communal action.

It was also the year the Field deliberately stretched in two directions at once: to commemorate and to celebrate. This may seem contradictory, but it is a fuller expression of what remembrance can be.

The Eyes of Freedom, a haunting exhibit of life-sized portraits honoring the 23 fallen Marines of Lima Company, stood next to the Field all weekend long. Visitors moved quietly between the flags and the painted faces. Some in silence, some in tears, but all moved to reflect. On Sunday, Lunch With a Veteran offered something more personal. Stories were exchanged across tables and generations. Strangers left as friends. Then came the Annual Flag Raising Ceremony. No spectacle, only stillness. Words of honor. Hands over hearts. A 21-gun salute. And a moment that said: we remember.

But memory isn’t always solemn. That same weekend, the Field welcomed celebration as another form of reverence. On Friday evening, Team Fastrax, a professional parachute team of veterans, descended from the sky in a sweeping patriotic display. A concert followed. And then fireworks lit the night. Over a thousand people gathered, some for the music, some for the display, some simply to share a beautiful evening. But for a few hours, they all became part of something larger. A shared space where joy did not erase grief, and celebration did not compete with commemoration. Instead, they merged, forming a more complete way to remember.

And so, ten years in, the Field has evolved, not away from its original purpose, but leaning deeper into it, a ritual in motion. It expands, not just in flags, but in meaning. And every year, it asks the same quiet question: Will we still remember?

In our final blog, we’ll explore what it takes to preserve this tradition and what the future of the Field may hold as it stands guard against forgetting.