I used to mix these up. A lot of people do. Both days have flags, speeches, and big feelings. But they’re not the same. Not even close. For anyone who wants a straightforward, official comparison, this VA article walks through the core differences in just a few minutes.
If you want the full story of how I finally sorted out the two holidays, I broke it down in detail here.
Here’s the thing: one day is quiet. The other is loud. Both matter.
The quick difference I keep in my head
- Memorial Day (last Monday in May): We honor those who died while serving. It’s about loss and love.
- Veterans Day (November 11): We thank all who served. It’s about service and gratitude.
I say it like this to myself: Memorial = memories of those we lost. Veterans = thanks to those still with us (and those who served in the past).
My Memorial Day: quiet, flags, and “Taps”
Memorial Day feels heavy for me. It should.
I help place small flags at our city cemetery with the Scouts and a VFW post. There’s a color guard. We hear “Taps.” It’s one bugle, and the sound hangs in the air. Kids stop fidgeting. Grown-ups stop talking. It just… lands.
We visit my neighbor’s son’s grave. He died in Afghanistan. His mom brings sunflowers. I bring coffee and listen. No speeches from me. Just listening. That’s my job that day. I sometimes read the stories of others like him on Freedom Remembered, a place where every fallen hero’s name is kept alive.
At 3:00 p.m., there’s the National Moment of Remembrance. One minute of quiet. I set a timer. Even if I’m flipping burgers later, I stop. Eyes closed, hands still. Sixty seconds is short. It also isn’t.
I wear a red poppy pin from the American Legion Auxiliary. People ask what it is. I say, “It’s for folks we’ve lost.” Simple. True.
One thing I don’t love? Big flashy sales. I get that stores do them. But “Happy Memorial Day!” on a giant sign makes me wince. I try not to be preachy. Still… words matter.
My Veterans Day: thanks, pancakes, and grandpa’s stories
Veterans Day feels warm. Like a sweater and coffee kind of day.
We take my grandpa (Vietnam) to the VFW breakfast. He always gets two pancakes. He says the second one tastes better because it’s free. He’s a ham.
Our school has an assembly. Kids make posters. A Navy veteran reads a poem. The band plays the service songs. My niece points when she hears the Army song because it’s her dad’s. Pride looks good on kids.
We also hit a place that offers a free meal for veterans. Applebee’s does it most years. Dunkin has free donuts. Great Clips offers a free haircut or a card to save it for later. Lines can be long. Some places ask for proof. That’s fine. We bring his old ID and a photo anyway. Pro tip: go early or late to avoid the rush.
This day is loud in a good way—parades, clapping, handshakes. “Thank you for your service” still counts. Don’t overthink it. Just say it.
If your parade route or cemetery visit drops you anywhere near Avondale, Arizona, and you’re hunting for a place to grab coffee with a vet afterward—or maybe scope out a late-night open mic raising funds for military families—a quick scan of the local classifieds roundup at oneNightAffair’s Backpage Avondale can point you toward veteran-friendly businesses, last-minute event postings, and after-hours meet-ups without the hassle of calling every venue in town.
The part people get mixed up (and how I handle it)
Folks say “Happy Memorial Day!” with good hearts. I try to answer kindly. I say, “We remember,” or “Thinking of the families today.” If it’s Veterans Day and someone says it’s for fallen soldiers, I gently add, “Today we thank all who served—Memorial Day is for the fallen.” Soft voice. No scolding. If you’ve ever needed a refresher, the USO puts the distinction in simple terms.
Words can heal or sting. Tone helps.
Thinking about how intention changes everything—whether you’re quietly honoring a loss or loudly celebrating service—also made me reflect on the French idea of “candaulisme,” where people deliberately invite an audience into moments that are normally private; if you’re curious how that dynamic plays out online, this clear guide to the most popular candaulisme platforms lays out the key sites along with safety tips and etiquette basics so you can decide whether exploring that community is right for you.
What these days feel like to me
- Memorial Day is a quiet room with a folded flag.
- Veterans Day is a handshake and a warm plate.
Both have flags. Both have stories. One is grief; one is gratitude. But both are love.
Small ways to show respect (that aren’t hard)
- Learn one name. Say it out loud. Share one story.
- Show up for the ceremony. Even if it’s cold or it’s hot.
- Wear a red poppy on Memorial Day. Ask a vet about their unit on Veterans Day.
- Tip well if a vet gets a free meal. The server is working hard too.
- Teach kids the 3:00 p.m. moment on Memorial Day. Phones down. Heads up.
You know what? Small things count. They add up.
My honest take: what works and what doesn’t
What works:
- Community stuff. The Scout flag placements. The roll call of names. The school bands. Visiting dedicated spaces—like the Santa Rosa Veterans Memorial Building—also puts faces to the names and reminds me why the community pieces matter.
- Clear signs. “We remember” on Memorial Day. “Thank you, veterans” on November 11.
What doesn’t:
- Big party vibes on Memorial Day. Keep the joy, but add respect. You can grill and still be mindful.
- Confusion that sticks. It’s okay to learn out loud. We all mess up. Just fix it next time.
A tiny story from each day
Memorial Day, two years ago: A Gold Star mom hugged me after the ceremony. She said, “Thanks for saying his name.” I said, “Of course.” We cried. The flag on her lap shook. I’ll never forget her hands.
Veterans Day, last year: My grandpa stood to clap at the end of the school program. He leaned over and said, “I like the trombones best.” On the drive home he told me a story I’d never heard—about a buddy who taught him to play cards on a ship. He laughed the whole time. So did I.
Final thoughts I keep close
Memorial Day is for the ones who didn’t come home. Veterans Day is for the ones who did. That’s the clean line.
Hold both days with care. Speak softly when it’s time to be soft. Speak up when it’s time to cheer. And always, always remember the people behind the uniforms. Not just the days. The people.