Remembering

Received this in an e-mail from Ray Lancaster. It is worth the time to read.

"REMEMBERING"

Decoration Day
Memories of Sharon Barbato

Whenever I see lilacs or peonies, I think of Decoration Day. When I was a young child growing up in the 1950s, it was called "Decoration Day" by everyone in our Illinois farming community and always observed on May 31.

Decoration Day was an important day to our families. On this day we decorated the graves of our departed family members with flowers, and placed flowers on the graves of the soldiers of our country's last five wars. The Civil War, the Spanish-American War, World War I, World War II and Korea. We took very seriously of seeing that every grave marked with a flag was decorated.

Every year on that date my Mom, brother, sister and I went to my grandparents. We used grandma’s homegrown flowers – never did we even think of stopping at commercial greenhouses to buy flowers for our cemetery visits. Plastic and silk flowers weren’t known then either – and wouldn’t have been considered proper even if they had been available.

Weeks before Decoration Day we carefully watched grandma’s growing flowers and worried if they would be ready. If the weather were too warm, the flowers would be in full bloom far too soon. If the days of late May were too cold, the flowers would not be ready for cutting.

I recall a few years when May was hot and the flowers were heading for an early bloom. We cut buckets of them days ahead to store in my grandma’s dark, cold, root cellar. Other years, when spring was too cold, we cut the budding flowers and put them in warm water in grandma’s summer kitchen to force blooms.

There were not a great variety of plants around the houses in those days. Nor was there the time or money to spend cultivating those plants that wouldn’t grow and thrive easily. Some of the lovely, old-fashioned plants we counted on were irises, tiger lilies, small bush roses and "snowballs". But the favorite old standbys were lilacs and peonies.

On the evening before Decoration Day the whole family got busy cutting blooms. We used a colorful mixture for each arrangement – just large enough to fit nicely into the quart jars containers. Then we tied each bunch together with a bit of string and put them in buckets and foot tubs of cold water.

The next morning we arrived early at our grandparent’s house. Now the big job was to get all those buckets, tubs and jars – and the whole family – into grandpa’s old Ford car.

The baskets of old cracked and chipped canning jars were fastened on the running boards. The flowers were squeezed into the trunk of the car with the lid left open to keep them from being smashed. An old sheet was loosely anchored over the flowers to keep them from being damaged by the wind. Our whole family piled inside the car and we grandkids steadied gallon jugs of cold iced tea between our feet. Our grandma held the picnic basket on her lap.

Off we went making stops at several cemeteries before ending up at the Oakland Cemetery where most family members were buried. It was considered necessary to arrive early to find a shady parking place near the only water pump in the cemetery. But an early arrival also showed good planning and pride to our neighbors and other family members. (It was like being the first in your neighborhood to get your laundry flapping on the clothesline on Monday morning.)

We kids ran to the water pump for buckets of water, quickly filled all the jars and placed a bunch of flowers in each one. We all helped to carry the arrangements around the cemetery, anchoring the jars in the soil on the proper graves.

We met lots of relatives and neighbors and our Mom and grandparents spent much time chatting and catching up on the family news as they trimmed grass or pulled weeds and generally tidied grave-sites. As we moved around the cemetery we saw graves unkempt and barren of flowers. We overhead the adults say the families of those deceased relatives were uncaring or disrespectful of their dead. Decoration Day was taken very serious in those days.

It had been a long time since our early breakfast and we kids were starved. We gathered at the car where we sat on the grass and ate sandwiches of cheese, bologna and peanut butter, hard-boiled eggs, cookies and drank our cold tea.

In the early afternoon a band could be heard playing in the distance. We gathered by the cemetery roadside and excitedly watched for the Decoration Day Parade to make its slow way the one-half mile from Main Street to the cemetery. The band played soulful marches and straggled a bit. The Veterans in their uniforms were worn-looking and their faces very sad, I thought, but they proudly marched carrying the American flag.

As Old Glory passed by everyone from the youngest child to the oldest adult stood quietly, placing their right hand over their heart showing honor and respect to our veterans, and those servicemen and women who were killed in the wars.

When the front of the procession reached the entrance to the cemetery, they all stopped. Someone with a booming voice said a prayer. After some maneuvering, we could hear a voice shout something about "those who died at sea." Rifles were fired into the air and a bugler played Taps. Chills ran up my spine, as children and adults all fought back tears.

The parade and Decoration Day service was over with and the adults were done chatting and visiting. The flowers were all placed on the proper graves. The picnic basket was empty. We kids were tired and bored. Disapproving adults had quickly discouraged our half-hearted attempts at hide-and-seek and tag among the grave markers. We climbed into the car and headed home to Grandma’s where we quickly kicked off our shoes, got into our old clothes and ran through the cooling grass of a late spring afternoon. There at Grandma’s we were free to be ourselves again. The perfect end to our busy Decoration Day.

Patriotism was not shown just once a year, that was a way of life for us. We were taught to respect and honor those that died. We understood the price of freedom. When I was older, a teenager, I took time to read the names and dates on the headstones. But when I was young, my mind's eye pictured the men buried beneath the grassy mounds as old - like the veterans in the parade. It never occurred to me that soldiers died young.

A few years ago, on a visit home, I stopped by the old cemetery. The little cemetery was green and peaceful, just as I remembered it from 50 years before - the same cornfields and pastures just a few yards away. The trees were taller, though, but there were no longer flags on any graves.

There is no Decoration Day procession to the Oakland cemetery now. I wonder if anyone puts peonies on the graves of the soldiers of those old wars, as well as on those of the veterans of the newer wars - Vietnam, Desert Storm and Iraqi Freedom.

I live in Connecticut now. But this year, like many years past I will be making a trip home - in my imagination - back in time and memory to that cemetery, where I will again honor the dead - the wars' and my family's - on Decoration Day.

Over the years the true meaning of Memorial Day has faded more and more from the public consciousness. From a solemn day of mourning, of remembrance, and of honor to our departed loved ones, it has degenerated into a weekend of Bar B Q's and beaches where only token nods toward our honored dead is given, if at all.

Too many people don't even know what the day stands for. But let's not blame them. The blame belongs to Congress who made the day into a three-day weekend in with the National Holiday Act of 1971 (P.L. 90 - 363), to ensure a three-day weekend for Federal holidays.

The blame belongs to those of us who know what the true meaning is but fail to observe the day, or at best give a weak token nod toward it (because we don't want to appear "odd" or "different" or a "party-pooper"?)

The blame belongs to those of us who know the true meaning but do not politely teach others it, pass it down to our children, or make it a family tradition. And the blame belongs to those of us who know and honor the day, but do not support any societal efforts to return "

I consider this day to be a national day of mourning. As a Vietnam Veteran this is how I observe this day, honoring and remembering those that made the supreme sacrifice for America‘s freedom.

The Moment of Remembrance started in 2001 is a step in the right direction to returning the meaning back to the day. What I feel is needed is a full return to the original day of observance. Let’s put "Memorial" back into Memorial Day!

To a veteran ...every day is Memorial Day.
We will not forget!

Semper,

Roger
:marine: