One of my favorite things about the Convivio Book of Days is when a reader shares with the rest of us their own traditions or memories in the comments section. To get any comments at all is a wonderful thing, as comments help us writers see that folks are actually reading and engaging. But I learn so much from you when you share what you do in your family or what you remember doing when you were a kid. And last year, in the comments section of the blog chapter for Memorial Day, Convivio pal Marilyn Pancoast wrote her memory of the day:
When I was young it was called Decoration Day and all the family’s and friend’s graves were cleaned and then decorated with flowers. Then in the late afternoon there was a parade and a ceremony after dusk. Someone, many times me, would play taps and small candlelit flower boats were released into the river. There was one for each soldier and sometimes more for others. The ceremonies and activities were quite moving and a way to involve and teach each new generation.
I think Marilyn sums up this day beautifully and I hope that someone on some river is still doing what she did when she was young. This is the day we remember our fallen heroes, those who gave their lives in service to their country. Memorial Day (or some version of it) is celebrated not just here in the United States, but in other countries, as well, and usually at this time of year, a tradition that harkens back to Ancient Rome. Our own Memorial/Decoration Day traditions in this country go back to the Civil War era. The original date, May 30, was chosen for it was believed that flowers for decorating graves would be in bloom in every state of the Union on that date. It’s since been moved to the last Monday of May. This year it falls on the 29th, which happens to be the same date as my mom and dad’s wedding anniversary. Those two good looking kids from Brooklyn tied the knot at St. Blaise Church on May 29, 1949––the Sunday, that year, of Memorial Day weekend. Today would have been their 68th wedding anniversary, but it’s the first time we honor the day without Dad’s physical presence. That will make for a bittersweet day, I know, but Memorial Day is kind of like this. It is our unofficial start of summer here in the US, but a somber one if we honor the day in its proper tradition. And so we decorate, and we remember. Flowers for remembrance, and flowers beckoning summer and the gentle time of year.
Image: Decoration Day. Photographic print from glass negative, 1917. From the George Grantham Bain Collection (Library of Congress) [public domain] via Wikimedia Commons.
Memorial Day, for my family, was always a busy day. Not just for remembrance of our veterans, but for all of the loved ones no longer with us. Most families have someone who decorates the graves of departed family members, and so we did. I moved away as an adult, so I was excused. My mother did it until she died. Then, for some years, my sister did it. When she moved away, my dad took on the job. We talked about it every Memorial Day evening. He said, “I put flowers on your mama’s grave for you today.” That always brought tears to my eyes. You see, my parents had divorced many years ago. He certainly was excused, but he did it for me. That meant so much to me. He had to drive some distance to do it and as he aged, he had health issues. It wasn’t easy for him, but he kept on doing it until he passed away before Memorial Day last year.
Memorial Day is much more than the official beginning of summer. It means more than that to us. Our family’s tradition will continue because it’s what we do. They lived and we will always remember them.
Dee, that’s really beautiful. Thanks so much for sharing that with me and the rest of us. Our family graves are all far away. It’s my cousin who goes to make the rounds, very often with another cousin of mine. Marietta and Michael, we can count on them to take care of these things. They went at Easter and sent a picture to us of the flowers at Dad’s grave. It threw me for a bit at first, but I’m so glad they went and that they sent the photo. Like a visit by proxy.
This might be too long for a comment block, but this is my favorite poem about Memorial day (by Bob Hicok– an amazing poet):
T H E S E M A N T I C S O F F L O W E R S O N M E M O R I A L D A Y
Historians will tell you my uncle
wouldn’t have called it World War II
or the Great War plus One or Tombstone
over my Head. All of this language
came later. He and his buddies
knew it as get my ass outta here
or fucking trench foot and of course
sex please now. Petunias are an apology
for ignorance, my confidence
that saying high-density bombing
or chunks of brain in cold coffee
even suggests the athleticism
of his flinch or how casually
he picked the pieces out.
Geraniums symbolize the secrets
life kept from him, the wonder
of variable-speed drill and how
the sky would have changed had he lived
to shout it’s a girl. My hands
enter dirt easily, a premonition.
I sit back on my uncle’s stomach
exactly like I never did, he was
a picture to me, was my father
looking across a field at wheat
laying down to wind. For a while,
Tyrants’ War and War of World Freedom
and Anti-Nazi War skirmished
for linguistic domination. If
my uncle called it anything
but too many holes in too many bodies
no flower can say. I plant marigolds
because they came cheap and who knows
what the earth’s in the mood to eat.
~ Bob Hicok
Whoa. Thank you, Kate.