Memorial Day may be viewed as two days.

One is the day of backyard barbecues and picnics in the park, of patriotic parades with children waving American flags, where politicians, especially in an election year, glad-hand the crowd and kiss babies. That day occurred yesterday in those city neighborhoods where people stay home for the holiday, in communities like Little Neck, Queens, just on the edge of Long Island, where the hosts of the Little Neck-Douglaston Memorial Day Parade boast that theirs is the largest in the country. The parade kicked off 84 years ago, begun by American Legion Post No. 103.

The other day is that of veterans such as those who were gathered yesterday aboard a retired aircraft carrier, the USS Intrepid, who relive memories of fallen brothers and find comfort among one another’s shared experiences.

“Honor the living and pray for the dead,” one veteran, Stan Wright, 54, said. Mr. Wright spent 1969 as a Navy sailor patrolling the Mekong River Delta for weapons. He was 19 and weighed 154 pounds. He now lives in Mt. Vernon, weighs 300 pounds, and has three children, but “this day is spent with my other family,” he said. A salute welcomed him aboard the aircraft carrier. Once there, he gestured to the carnival-like scene around him: the tourist cameras, a booth selling fake “dog tags,” a National Guard recruiting station blaring Jennifer Lopez’s “Get It Right,” and a man dressed up in an inflatable Coast Guard costume.

“That’s the hard part, trying to make people understand,” Mr. Wright said. “Don’t come here for fun, no, no, no. Someone paid for this” – he pointed around him – “with their blood.”

The meaning of Memorial Day has yet to occur to the sons of Rudolph Thomas. Mr. Thomas, a disabled Vietnam War veteran who was part of the 173rd Airborne brigade, is 61 years old. His son, Rudy Jr. and Isaiah, are 10 and 7.

After a 21-gun salute and fighter jets having roared overhead, a contemplative silence settled on Mr. Thomas.

“I lost some good friends of mine,” he said. “It overwhelms me that I still feel the way I do.”

Isaiah looked up at him.

“Why are you crying, Daddy?” Isaiah asked.

Mr. Thomas, who has dreadlocks and wears his service medals on his Rolling Thunder motorcycle jacket, normally spends Memorial Day in Washington, D.C., with the motorcycle group that’s mission is to publicize the plight of prisoners of war. This year, however, he wanted his children to begin their own understanding.

“I’m remembering a lot of things,” Mr. Thomas told his son.

Another Vietnam veteran, Gerald Alperstein, who is the legislative chairman of the Jewish War Veterans of the U.S.A., an organization for Jewish-American servicemen founded in 1896, was depressed by what he said was an unappreciative public.

“For every person on this ship, there was probably 350 people on Fifth and Sixth avenues looking for a bargain,” he said.

Young as they may be, the Boy and Girl Scouts of Little Neck understand in their own enthusiastic way. This was the lighter side of Memorial Day, the hope veterans have that future generations will not know the face of war.

It is where, off Northern Boulevard, angel-faced Girl Scout Daisies like Shauna Darcy, 6, practiced waving the American flag before setting off on the 1.5-mile long parade route.

Nearby, Cub Master Abby Farber-Robinson led her 37-member Cub Scout Pack 183 in song while waiting for the parade to begin.

“From the halls of Montezuma, to the shores of Tripoli,” boys like David Guapisaca, 8, the son of Ecuadorian immigrants, sang to a group of Marines standing nearby. What the pack lacked in volume, they made up in diligence.

“We fight our country’s battles in the air, on land, and sea,” the five Marines rejoined in a full-throated baritone. The Marines closed the song with their standard: “Hoorah!”

Then the Grand Marshal took his seat in the baby blue 1966 Ford Thunderbird. The Federation of Black Cowboys mounted their horses. Members of the Pipes and Drums of the Emerald Society of the New York City Fire Department lifted their bagpipes.

The speaker of the City Council, Gifford Miller, tried to find his sons. City Council Member John Liu, of Flushing, wished folks a “Happy Memorial Day.” Melinda Katz, a council member of Forest Hills, returned from her earlier engagement: singing the National Anthem (in E flat) aboard the USS Intrepid.

And Mayor Bloomberg, attending his fourth parade of the day, said: “Okay, let’s go.” At just after 2 p.m., the parade went.

Missing from the mix of mayoral candidates was Rep. Anthony Weiner, who was later seen walking in the opposite direction of the parade, having arrived late. Never one to miss an opportunity, Mr. Weiner, walking against the flow while an aide carried a sign of the congressman praising the service of veterans, said, “I’m going back for another round.”

At about 3 p.m., as the parade marched past hot dog and pretzel vendors and onlookers sitting in lawn chairs, taps was performed aboard the USS Intrepid to honor the dead.