The Zenish master and his prize student walked out of the monastery and headed down the path toward town. Each carried a small wreath made from flowers grown at the Zenish Monastery Bubba Ho-Tep Memorial Garden.

As the two walked along, passing from wooded area to farm to town, the student and master discussed and pondered and discussed some more.

"But Master," asked the student, "we Zenish sort of follow the Eightfold Path, do we not?"

"We do, sort of, yes," came the Master's reply.

"And the Eightfold Path speaks to us of purposeful living, does it not?"

"It do."

The student went quiet momentarily, puzzled by the Master's use of bad grammar. His mind could not always fathom the Master and his ways. The student shook his head slightly and returned his focus to the matter at hand.

"Master, if I may continue. One of the precepts of purposeful living is right action. And right action is nonviolent. We must never kill, Master."

"This is true," said the Master. "Why, whenever I shoot at the squirrels that dig in the Bubba Ho-Tep Garden and chew through the stalks of my tomato plants..." The voice of the Master drifted off as he grew angrier and angrier at the thought of those vermin destroying his hard work, but eventually the Master recovered his sense of peace and continued speaking. "As I was saying, whenever I shoot at the squirrels who bring havoc to the garden, I aim to miss, never to hit. It is never the goal of the Zenish to cause death." Then he muttered under his breath, "Once in a while death might be okay for a rat in a fancy costume."

"What was that last part, Master?"

"Oh, I was just commenting what a lovely day it is."

The student looked askance at the Master and said, "Yes, it is a lovely day. But please, Master, the question before us: How can we celebrate death when we advocate peace and nonviolence?"

As the two Zenish monks entered the town they could see the statue in the town square and quickened their pace in that direction.

The Master spoke. "We here, in this country, we are free to think our Zenish thoughts, such as they are, yes?"

"Yes," was the students reply.

"No one tells us how to think. And we are free to practice the ways of the Zenish, are we not?"

"Yes."

"And I am free to shoot squirrels, I mean shoot at them, without hitting them of course, merely frightening them, with my legally obtained high powered hunting rifle?"

"We have many freedoms, yes, Master. We have many freedoms here, unknown and even unheard of in many other lands."

The two robed figures slowed their pace and then stood before the towns statue. The sculpture, a representation of a soldier standing at ease but still gazing vigilantly into a never ending distance, was from long ago, from what they then called the Great War. Since then, there were many other times for men and women to take up arms, and the statue was dedicated to all those who served in the military. They stood for a minute or two until the master broke the silence.

"We have many things, including the right to disagree. Sometimes to guard against those who would take away our freedom to be Zenish, there are those who take up the sword on our behalf. It is sad that this must be done, but that is reality. And on Memorial Day, we do not praise the sword, or the bloodshed, but those willing to protect our way of life, even at the cost of their own."

"I think I understand now, Master."

The two lay down their wreaths, looked up at the eternally young doughboy, said a silent thank you, then turned to walk back to the monastery.