Also the Indy 500 happens this weekend, which made me think of my dad and my paternal relatives in southern Indiana and the childhood drives from our northern Illinois town to Bloomfield, Indiana the nearest little town to the farmstead where my dad grew up.
My mom called Memorial Day "Decoration Day". This is a term dating back to the Civil War; a day set aside to honor the Civil War dead. Eventually it became more widely known as Memorial Day to honor all war dead, but wasn't officially declared a National Holiday until 1971, a fact I find surprising.
The old name, Decoration Day, made perfect sense to me as a child. I knew it as a day for an outing
I loved going to the cemeteries. I found both to be so restful, peaceful, and beautiful. Both in quiet rural settings with old-fashioned gravestones that marked each plot, giving names, birthdate, and date of death in fancy lettering. Some, not my family, but some we noted as we wandered about also told a bit about the person who had died. I loved these little one- or two-line insights into a life. I filled in whole biographies with my imagination.
I don't visit cemeteries on Memorial Day anymore. As an adult I moved 2000 miles from "home" and my visits to the midwest now are few. But today I am thinking of those childhood pilgrimages to honor loved ones and offer some decoration to the stones that mark the lifespan of people who lived, loved, worked, played and raised families. My ancestors were farmers; my parents the first generation to migrate to the city. My generation (my brothers and I) never knew the hard-scrabble life of subsistence farming in the Great Depression, taking for granted what my parents provided for us with long hours doing factory work, building a blue-collar Post WWII middle-class life that led to us having so many more opportunities than they ever dreamed of. I honor them, all of them generations past, and I thank them on this day of Decoration and Memorial.
I planted flowers in my garden today and I lit a candle for those who have passed. I even briefly tuned into the race....just to hear the roar of those engines and the feel the memory of the warmth of an Indiana sun on my face.
May your Memorial Day be full of warm memories too. May we all appreciate those who served in so many ways to provide a path to the life we live today.
At least, that's the view from here....
Wonderful and warm essay that many of us can identify with. Traditions matter! I like how you've been able to form a new tradition that still honors your past experiences with your family.
ReplyDeleteWe've used Decoration Day and Memorial Day interchangeably in recent decades but I grew with Decoration Day being what we called the holiday weekend.
Thanks, Jean. One of my best friends, who grew up where I live now, visits the nearby cemeteries frequently to place flowers on her relatives graves. I would do the same if I lived near my departed. I miss that tradition, but I do what I can from afar.
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ReplyDeleteDecoration Day was a big deal. I went with my Grandma to put flowers on the graves of my ancestors. My sister still does and I will visit on Tuesday. When I was in high school, it was a big deal. I was in the band, so I was in the small town parade--from the school to downtown then to the cemetery,, where the drums were muffled, gun fired and wreaths thrown onto the millpond and my BFF played taps up on the hill. Then home for family picnic. It was a great time back then.
My cousin and his wife are the family members who make 40-plus decorative crosses for Memorial Day. And either drive to family graves and put them up or mail them to other family members. This year Keith and I drove through Spokane and collected a couple of the crosses - we mailed one to his oldest brother's widow and then I drove to Olympia to take my mother to the cemetery and put the other one on my father's grave. Please understand that 1) I understand war and how necessary it can be - in reacting to aggression and 2) I understand how the military survivors are completely mentally (or physically) wounded and also 3) how decorating graves is supposed to help the remaining ones - but mostly I put a couple of flags on my balcony and wait for the day to be over. In Arlington I used to be one of the very, very few people who attended the Memorial Day parade - and took my kids with me. And with us often the Viet Nam vet who was one of their teachers would stand with us. And I would silently grand my teeth at the inhumanity that one group of humans would place on the rest - and I would try to remember the heroes, the ones who by choice or default or luck, were there to help the survivors - the salves, the Jews, the Afrikkans, the Asians, the...etc. And I would continue to send money for education and health care and know that wasn't enough to stop the aggression or the insanity - and sometimes it meant my own kids couldn't have the toy they wanted or the expensive pair of shoes - but it was how I could stand being here - lucky and lucky and very lucky.
ReplyDeleteWonderful piece, capturing a special time and place. Those visits to the graves of the ancestors are so evocative. I remember my nephew, Noah, as an 8 or 9 year old think the cemetery was the perfect place to harvest names for his future children.
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