The Minute That Stands Still

In the quiet moments at the end of the day, a single melody has the power to stop time.

In 1991, I moved with my family to the Goose Creek Naval Weapons Station in South Carolina. My dad, an officer in the Navy, had been stationed as the First Officer on a ship out of Charleston, and we received housing on the weapons station during his tenure. Although we had lived in military housing previously, this was the first time we were actually living on a base—behind a gate where you had to be waved in every time you came and went. I would regularly see military vehicles rolling down the main street or hear helicopters overhead.

But the most unforgettable moment came at sunset.

Every evening, the base would play Taps across the loudspeakers as a signal that the day was over. No matter what you were doing, if you were outside when Taps started, you had to stop and listen to the music until it was over. Kids on the playground, people walking their dogs, even cars idling at the gate—everything paused for that sacred one minute of sound.

That daily ritual raises a natural question: how did such a simple tune come to carry so much meaning?

Taps originated as a bugle call in the mid-19th century, used by American troops to signal the end of the day and, eventually, to honor the fallen on the battlefield. First played by Bugler Oliver Wilcox Norton during the Civil War, it quickly became a tradition for both sides. The melody itself is striking in its simplicity—just 24 notes, shaped by the limited harmonic range of the bugle, which has no valves like a trumpet. Though originally wordless, Horace Lorenzo Trim later added the familiar lines, “Day is done, gone the sun,” giving voice to the emotion already carried in the music.

Over time, Taps became an essential part of military funeral ceremonies—a role it still holds today. Army Captain John Tidball, who helped establish the tradition, once wrote, “[This call] is now looked upon as the most appropriate and touching part of a military funeral.”

I came to understand those words in a deeply personal way.

In the summer of 1998, my high school best friend died in a training accident while she was a Midshipman. She was buried with full military honors, including the solemn playing of Taps. As the notes carried across the air, I felt a wave of emotion unlike anything I had experienced before. What had once been the signal that ended each day on base became, in that moment, something far more profound—the most comforting and heartbreaking minute of music I had ever heard.

That is the power of Taps: it marks an ending, but it also holds space for memory, gratitude, and reflection.

In the United States, we set aside the final Monday in May—Memorial Day—to honor those who have given their lives in service. If you are able, I invite you to pause for one minute that day. Listen, if you can, to those 24 simple notes. And in that brief stillness, remember a friend, a family member, or even someone you never knew.

Because sometimes, one minute is enough to remember a lifetime.