When i was small, memorial day was never anything to do with parties or cook outs or such.
I would go with my grand mother to several local small and mostly forgotten veterans cemeteries in the area.
Perhaps you have some now tucked behind some shopping mall or something where you live
Every soldiers stone got cleaned and weeds pulled and every one got a little flower.
This took the better part of the day. We knew none of these people, but for this day they were family come to visit.
Then we would go home, and out would come the photo albums than would explain to me why i did not have the uncles and cousins etc that most other kids i knew did.
Faces or people i’ve never met or known, all smiling and looking sharp in their doughboy uniforms ready to ship out, all but one who will not be allowed to go because he suffers from what is probably emphysema, He is the oldest.
All probably thinking they will be home by next planting season, but none will be, except George who has the lucky misfortune of a lung ailment.
It seems almost unreal for a family to send all its boys off to war and not have even one return.
4 Boys had already become married and had children though, there were 4 sons and 2 daughters.
One daughter would die of polio, one would die of TB.
Of the 4 sons, 3 would remain with the family farms, one wanted to become an engineer.
Then comes another photo album 20 years into the future.
There are 3 strapping young men in work clothes sitting on a vintage tractor and one young man wearing eye glasses and dress clothes sitting on the tractor with them.
The engineer has come home from Tulane with degrees in both Electrical and Mechanical engineering, he has been recruited by Westinghouse.
The 3 strapping young men have yet to get to the business of finding wives, the engineer though has a young son, it will be the only child he has.
He has ideas of better easier more profitable farm operation through engineering, he will never get to work them out.
Japan will attack Pearl Harbor, and once again an immigrant family who is only now 1 generation american born will send her sons in faithful service of the country that has adopted them as it’s own.
3 sons will go to combat, the engineer will not be allowed, America needs him elsewhere, his draft number will be pulled 3 times but he will not be released to go.
But a price will be paid for the 3 deferrals even though they are not of his choosing.
3 more of the families sons will be lost.
They are immortalized in antique black and while photos proudly wearing their army uniforms standing by the same antique tractor.
The engineer is my grandfather, he would outlive my father by some 30 years.
My father would make the sacrifice to duty at age 30 and then fade into memory and photograph along with the rest.
Which is why it my grandmother and i attending to the graves.
My grandfather having fed them his family including his only son can not bear to look upon them.
Which leaves only me left and a bunch of old black and white photos, ghosts of people i mostly never knew, and somehow have never joined.
Not for lack of effort though, i suppose death has just gotten bored with the taste of us, and now i am too old for good eating, but eventually he will have me too, whether he likes it or not. And then our book will close.
So where am i now?
Sitting at work, so other people can have a long holiday week end, have cook outs and parties and such, somewhat ironic as i am the only veteran here.
Strange how a day of remembrance changes to a day for parties and cook outs.