Memorial Day 2008

Memorial Day memories

Other than Christmas and Easter, Memorial Day is a big event in my family, or has been in the past.  As long as I can remember, my mother would drive us to my grandparent’s house the weekend before Memorial Day.  It was a six hour trip, back in the days before FM radio, cassette players, CD players, or air conditioning (God Bless the person who invented air conditioning in cars!).  My mom was divorced raising three kids by herself.  She's the bravest person I know.  Oh the fights that would go on in those car trips.  "He's on my side of the car!"  "I want the front seat!" "MOM!MOM!MOM!"  To keep us occupied, we used to sing anything and everything.  It didn't matter that it was spring, we were singing Rudolf the Rednose Reindeer.  Anything to keep us from yelling and screaming.  My favorite was a song from Guys and Dolls, Bushel and a Peck.  "I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck, a hug around the neck and a barrel and a heap, a barrel and a heap, and I'm talkin in my sleep about you.  About you."  We used to sing a lot from musicals.  My mom knows them all.  Seriously. 

 

The first stop we would make, other than the rest stop and gas thing, was to stop at my paternal grandparent’s house.  They live about 16 miles from my maternal grandparent’s house.  I used to be scared of that house.  It was always gloomy and musty smelling.  It also didn't matter what time we arrived, morning, noon or night, they were drinking.  But they could be a lot of fun, maybe because they were not often 100% sober.  We would stay usually three or four hours chatting, catching up.  I sometimes think they liked my mother a whole lot more than my father.  But my mom is a nice woman.  It's not hard to like her. 

 

I remember the bathroom at their house vividly.  Why is that?  It had burgundy porcelain tiles on the walls.  I really loved that color.  Across from the hall, was my grandfather's library.  It was a small room, maybe 9 by 9 feet.  He must have had over 500 books there.  They went from floor to ceiling.  He used to take a lot of photographs and put them on those slides.  I don't know what they are called, but I'd give my eyeteeth to look at them again.  He had books of those as well in that room. He had some great photographs of a parade of Civil War Veterans.

  

Going up to the second floor was scary too for me.  It had an enclosed circular staircase.  It was always really dark up there.  I do not have any vivid memories of the second floor other than dark, dark, dark.  I rarely explored the house.  I felt like something bad had happened or was about to happen.  I tried to stay close to mom or I stayed outside.  The garage was cool.  Literally.  Lots of light poured into that structure and it felt like a safe place. There was a huge tree shading the garage and dappled sunlight surrounded the area. It was really quite beautiful among all the tools, oil and gasoline.

 

We'd leave after a lot of hugs and false promises.  I usually couldn't wait to leave.  Grandma Brown always had goodies for us.  Finally, we were all back in the car with grandpa leaning on the open window with his last goodbyes and some advice for mom. Didn’t matter what it was, he just wanted to delay our leaving. Despite everything, I loved that old man. 

 

Back on the road. We were all anxious to get to Grandma Brown’s. It sometimes felt those 16 miles were the longest of the trip. It was a two lane highway with fields and fields of black earth on either side of the road. Lots of corn grown in that area. Lots of pig farms, too. My mom always, at some point, would have to say, “Smell that good, clean country air!” Us kids, we could not agree with her. We would have a silly argument with her about it. Mom would tease us some more until we arrived at grandma’s. 

 

My Grandma Brown was a short woman, and round. She would hustle outside to give us a warm, loving welcome. She usually had to give us kiss and would shoo us inside where we would have a beef roast waiting for sandwiches. Or she had ice cream and brownies or fudge. Ooooh, the fudge! There would be those small glass bottles of orange Crush or Pepsi. I loved going to grandma’s. 

 

At night, some of my aunts, uncles and cousins would drop by to say hello. It was always great to see them. They are so smart and funny. Sometimes they would stay and we would play a card game called Rook. My grandfather seemed to be in his element when we were playing cards. He was always on the quiet side, but he had a wicked sense of humor. We had two tables: the “winners” and the “losers”. We weren’t actually called that, but that’s what it was. I loved getting to the winners table and playing with grandpa so I could see him with a twinkle in his eye while he teased grandma. 

 

The next day, we would go out to the yard to cut some peonies and rhododendrons. Then we would get in grandpa’s huge boat of a car and drive out to the cemetery. His cars could usually fit at least eight people in it. The six of us were quite comfortable in it. He didn’t turn on the radio either. So it was a quiet trip to the cemetery. It wasn’t very far. Just past the school that was nearly in their back yard.

 

I have a great great something grandfather who was a doctor in the civil war. He’s buried in that cemetery along with another 20 or so relatives. We would visit every one of them and place a mixture of flowers on their graves. While I’d never met any of those relatives in my early years, I knew they were family and deserved respect for their past lives and that they lived through me.

 

After my maternal grandfather passed, my grandmother had a gravestone made up with both of their names on it. Her name, date of birth and “19 __” for her date of death was engraved on it.  Quite a few years had passed and when we were visiting grandpa’s grave on another Memorial weekend, I asked my grandmother, “Hey Grandma! What are you going to do if you live past 1999?” It was not entirely implausible. She was relatively healthy and active. It seemed to me like she could live forever. My mom pipes up, “Geesh, what some people won’t do for a new gravestone!” We all were belly laughing at that. I’m sorry to say we didn’t have to get her another one.

 

Our family did the typical picnics, too. That weekend is a great weekend to start off a great summer. But what I cherish most is remembering family and honoring those in the military such as my maternal great grandfather who was in the Civil War, my paternal grandfather who received a Bronze Star in World War II, my paternal uncle who fought in Vietnam, my brother who is in the Navy and my nephew who is in the army. I miss you and love you all.

 

 

 

Reviews

[JohnL]

A fine reminiscence of recent, current life-time - history, which, because it looks back with respect upon the family elders and their knowledge contains information going right back via Korea, WW2, WW1, to the Civil War through the knowledge and experience of family members. Stories like this offer windows upon our past which never made the headlines or the encyclopaedias but are more real for the fact that we and our ancestors have lived and passed them down as lore. Let us, none of us, feel that this sort of writing is not worth doing. It is pure gold.
John