On this Memorial Day, the solemn notes of tribute echoed once again across the sacred grounds where service members, their families, and the wider community gathered to remember and reflect.
Delivering the keynote address was Herman “T.J.” Laffoon, a former CRIT Council member, veteran, and representative of the American Legion. His words were both reverent and urgent—calling on all citizens not only to remember the fallen but to carry forward their legacy through action.
Among the dignitaries in attendance were CRIT Chairwoman Amelia Flores; U.S. Army veteran Edward Yava Sr., a Native American service member and member of the 73rd Airborne, who stands as a living symbol of service and sacrifice; as well as tribal leaders, local officials, and community members gathered in solidarity to honor those who gave their lives in service.
The ceremony paid special tribute to Pvt. Lori Ann Piestewa, of Hopi descent, who was not only the first woman in the U.S. military to lose her life in the Iraq War, but also the first Native American woman to die in combat while serving in the United States Armed Forces. Her father, Terry Piestewa, a Vietnam veteran, once found these memorials too painful to attend. But with time, they became a source of strength—not just for him, but for her children, and for all who remember her legacy. 
As Laffoon reminded the crowd, Memorial Day traditions are rich with symbolism. The American flag is raised briskly to full staff at sunrise, then lowered to half-staff until noon, to honor over a million lives lost in service to the nation. At noon, the flag returns to full-staff, not to forget the fallen, but to symbolize the living’s commitment to continue the work they died defending.
“They carry on understanding that their soldiers chose the life of service… and thus understood the potentiality of their deaths as a sacrifice for our freedom,” Laffoon said, his voice carrying through the gathered rows of chairs and folding canopies.
He honored not only the fallen but the families left behind—mothers, fathers, children, and spouses who continue to live with loss, yet rise each day with resilience. These Gold Star families, he emphasized, carry burdens most can never fully understand.
This year’s ceremony also recognized the often-overlooked service of Native American veterans. From the Revolutionary War to present-day deployments, Native Americans have served at higher rates per capita than any other group—often without recognition, often despite facing systemic discrimination. Laffoon paid tribute to their unique legacy, including the Navajo Code Talkers whose encrypted communications helped turn the tide of World War II.
“Their service was not just a duty,” he said. “It was an expression of love for their people and the land they call home.”
But Laffoon did not let the ceremony rest solely in the past. He confronted the present: the painful truth that many veterans return home to bureaucratic red tape, inadequate care, and societal neglect. Too many suffer in silence. Too many are lost long after the battlefield—victims of untreated wounds, both physical and invisible.
“…Some die waiting for care that should have been granted without hesitation,” he said.
He called on the community to act—not just with words, but with meaningful support. That means advocating for reforms in veteran healthcare, mental health services, job access, and housing. That means not just honoring our heroes one day a year, but fighting for them every day after.
“Stop and thank a veteran,” Laffoon urged. “A small act of gratitude can mean the world to someone who has given so much.”
As the ceremony closed under the sunlit flag now waving high at full-staff, the message of Memorial Day 2025 was clear: Remembrance must be paired with responsibility. Sacrifice must be met with stewardship. And the legacy of our fallen must be honored not only with words, but with deeds that ensure no veteran, no family, and no memory is left behind.
