I hibernated yesterday. I didn't make it to any of the "doings" of Memorial Day. The memories of my childhood rose up. We called it "Decoration Day." It was a time to decorate the graves that belonged to the members of the family who were buried in the local cemetery. We made wreaths of bridal wreath and whatever other flowers were blooming. Lilac, iris, peonies were usually high on the list. Then we had a parade of basically everyone - at least all the kids - carrying their flowers to the cemetery. We would have made the wreaths the day before and let them soak in a big tub of water to keep them fresh. The emphasis was not on remembering the military dead, just the family dead. If I'm not mistaken, the town band would play during the parade, too.
When I took the picture of the flag, I placed it in a little vase of cork from Brazil. I had such a little flag always with me while we lived in Brazil. When we went to the city, the thrill when we would approach an embassy and see the US flags waving is indescribable. Here we see so many flags and love seeing them, but when you haven't the same access it is a wonderful thrill. Sort of like seeing an oasis when walking thirsty in a desert. Brazil was not a desert in any way except in the dearth of US flags of course, but "Old Glory" hit the heart strings like nothing else.
With so much of Memorial Day being taken up now in remembering those who have taken up arms for our country, I realized that our family is peppered with such people. Our dad was in WWI, my brother and brother-in-law were Navy in WWII, my husband and his brother were in WWII, my husband's father in both World Wars. Now our son and his wife are both in the Air Force. I have never thought about it before, but I have quite a lot invested in those stars and stripes. For better or worse, I care.
May God protect us from doing irreparable harm to what the flag represents. As one studies history, the ins and outs, ups and downs are many. May we always finally find a way so that freedom may exist in this world of ours. It is far from an easy road.
Take care.
4 comments:
i'll try again, having a hard time posting comments--i like the way you write.
I always put my wreath on the grave of Ole and Marie Nelson's son. He died in WW! . Their only son. Delores Helmke was their daughter. That's how long ago that was but seems like yesterday at times for this 87 year old. Fran.
Once again, you say with eloquence all that needs to be said!
I know that I am a blog behind, but you writing about the warmth of having a register in your bedrooom brought back memories. I too had one...I remember the one time when I wanted to "listen" in to a conversation, I opened it. I obviously had not opened it for awhile, because it was right over the kitchen table, and it emptied all the dirt...etc. on top of the table. I was caught "listening".
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