Memorial Day

For those of us who live out at the end of a long winding road, Memorial is the day we go visit the dead relatives.

During my growing up years Memorial day meant a trip to the cemetary the day before to spruce up the graves before the out of town relatives arrived to decorate graves. The community cemetary was a fenced 10 acre plot of sagebrush and Indian rice grass littered with tombstones on the east facing slope of the Cemetary Hill. On the north boundary stood the white washed outhouse for the convinience of the low capacity bladder crowd.

We would load the back of the pick-up with rakes and shovels. Dad and Grandpa would ride in the cab, kids in the box. When we arrived at the cemetary custom dictated that we would start with the graves of our direct line. We would remove the rements of last year's flowers if any. We would take a shovel to the cheat grass growing on and around the mound then reform the mound with the rake. While we worked, Grandpa would tell stories about the people who were burried in the grave we were working on. When we finished with the direct line, we would branch out and start doing the extended family. Grandpa would explain the relationships and maybe a few of his memories about that person. Often times there would be other families at the cemetary doing what we were doing. This would be an excuse to exchange stories of common ancestors and maybe gossip about some members of the extended family. We would go home knowing a little bit more about who we were and how we got here.

I learned my family history. Some of my cousins envy the knowledge I have of the family and the relationships. I didn't work very hard for it. I just listened and tried to remember what I was told.

There are people from the city who are shocked and appalled at the condition of the cemetary. They are used to manicured greens with no effort on their part. They ignore the history staring them in face and don't recognize the opportunity to teach the rising generation about their roots. A lot of that rising generation is so busy playing with their electronic toys that they are cutting themselves off from their roots.

Now I'm working on teaching the rising generation about their roots. It's challenging. We don't have the excuse of going to the cemetary to clean graves. The school year doesn't end until after Memorial Day. So they don't have much opportunity to know the dead relatives on my side of the family. I do make sure they learn about the dead relatives that are buried here where we live.