Growing up I'm not sure I fully appreciated Memorial Day for its original intended observance. To me it signified that school was almost over or out. Seems like we never really had school after Memorial Day. It was also the day that we put flowers on all graves of our families members who have passed on. So today I think of my family and the cemetery where my father, brother, first son, niece and grandparents are, all buried close together. Wish I could visit today.
Memorial Day has not been tied to military in my mind much
until I moved away from Utah. I'm not
saying Utah does not observe this it was
just what I knew and what we remembered.
I did not have a military family in my history or present day and that
is likely part of this as well.
I have two stories that have made me think differently on
this Memorial Day. The first was
attending the funeral of a friend a few weeks ago, someone that Nick was close
to who had served in the military.
Nick's favorite recollection of the stories he'd share at lunch was how
his rank was whatever it needed to be for the assignment he had. He was in military intelligence, I believe. Fitting as he had a brilliant mind! At the end of the funeral services held at our
church chapel they opened the doors to outside and two members of the local VFW
(I think) did a gun salute and marched in, refolded the flag that sat atop of
his casket with precision that made me smile.
It made me recall memories of childhood
where I was taught that no red should show if folded right. I tried many times to fold our flag that way
when I was little. The whole process was
very moving and as they handed the newly folded flag to his wife I could not
hold back my emotions.
Second story, last week my mother shared a story that I have heard many
times. But this time it really had an
impact on me. She talked about the
people in her neighborhood who went off to WWII. She talked about twin brothers and how one
couldn't go because he was missing two fingers from a wood chopping accident. So the brother who had all his fingers went
into the military and was trained to fly at Hill Field Air Force Base just a
little more than an hour north of where they lived. They got word when he was to fly out that he
was going to break a rule and fly over the neighborhood to say goodbye. They weren't able to meet otherwise. So at the indicated time the neighborhood
came out to watch and he did fly over.
My mother recalls it was so low they could see him and he clipped the
tops of the tall trees. He made a second
pass and was off. That was the last they
got to see him.
This memorial day as I do my normal Monday routine, laundry,
cleaning and planning while the boys are off to a movie, I pause to give a
different consideration to the endless unknown stories of each individual who has
served our country. I would have enjoyed
being at my mom's to raise the flag on her flagpole today.
