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By Helen Fitzgerald
I grew up in a small, farming town in southern Minnesota that had a river running through it.It was a place where holidays were marked by parades and special events. Memorial Day, also known as Decoration Day, was one of the best. While it was a national holiday dedicated to those who died in the service of our country, it was also the day we decorated the graves, not just of the war dead but also of all our loved ones.
Memorial Day would start with a parade down Main Street. It consisted of our small town band, a few American Legionnaires and the townspeople following in the rear towards the bridge over the river. There, we would pause to toss flowers and paper poppies into the water in reverent stillness as we “remembered.” Then, we all went to the cemetery to place flowers on the graves and visit with friends and relatives.
We didn’t buy big expensive bouquets of flowers for Memorial Day; we grew our own. I remember my mother’s anxiety each year as she watched for the lilacs and peonies to bloom, since they would be the flowers we would carefully put on the graves. I remember with pleasure these trips to the cemetery with fragrant bunches of flowers in our arms. The first trip would actually be the day before to make sure everything would be in place for the big day. These trips were fun because, in addition to visiting and decorating the graves of relatives who had died, we would explore the entire cemetery looking at what our neighbors and friends had done to decorate the graves of their loved ones. As we walked around the tombstones, we were always very careful not to step on anyone’s grave, showing disrespect.
There was one grave we never missed visiting. It was the burial site of a young girl killed in a car accident. The tombstone was unique in that it had a small oval picture of her on it. Her parents always decorated her grave with many different kinds of expensive flowers. Their grief always seemed so intense and heroic to me.
There was another aspect of Memorial Day, and that was to discard our dark clothing of the winter and bring out the whites and bright colors of summer. It marked the end of the mourning season, in effect, and the start of a new season of life.
I understand that some of that still goes on in my hometown, but across America I don’t think many people pay much attention to Memorial Day anymore. Surely that is so in the larger cities, where it may still be a rite of passage into summer but little more. It has become a day when people flock, not to the cemeteries, but to beaches, parks and shopping malls.
I have a suggestion for America. No matter what the folks down the street are doing, you can put the “memory” back in your Memorial Day. Go ahead with your family picnic, if that is your plan, but when you’re gathered together ask everyone to think about and reflect on not only those who have died for our country, but also on your loved ones who have died recently or long ago. Ask them what memories they have of your dead relatives and friends. Family members might love to hear each other’s stories, and they will be creating memories of their own.
Other suggestions for the day: visit a grave, say a prayer, launch a balloon, dedicate a song, look at old pictures, plant a tree, or visit a peaceful place to meditate a while. If there is some local memorial observance in your area, think about participating. In the evening, you might watch the National Memorial Day Concert on public television. This is a very moving show, especially now that we are grieving both the tragedy of 9/11 and the lives lost recently in Afghanistan and Iraq. You can find out more on the Internet at http://www.pbs.org/memorialdayconcert.
Other cultures, like the Chinese, revere their ancestors; we can at least devote a few minutes once a year to think about those who have made possible the free lives we lead today. Doing so should make you and your family feel more connected to your past and to those who were once part of your life.You don’t need a parade to do that.
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