When I was young, my parents purchased land and
built a small cottage “up north” in central Wisconsin. If my dad had the time
off from work, we used the Memorial Day weekend to (in their words) “open up
the place” for the short summer season. I’d get excited to go, as most kids do,
hoping to be able to swim, swim, swim… but swimming in May in Wisconsin is a
very rare occurrence. For example, this year, there was still ice on the lake
less than a month ago, so… (Yikes!
That’s cold!)
If Dad had to work one of the days, then a backyard in-town
barbecue became an option. Sometimes we’d invite a few people over and my
parents would actually grill out. My dad wasn’t big on grilling – with a
perfectly good stove in the kitchen, he didn’t see the attraction to charcoal,
lighter fluid, or why that method was so preferred. But once in a while he
indulged us.
As I got a little older, and joined my high school’s
band and choir organizations, we actively participated in early Monday morning civic
celebrations. I remember standing ‘at attention’ in my band uniform in a local
cemetery, readying to play taps or another patriotic anthem for our hometown veterans.
When I was a senior, a particularly memorable year, our choir sang the “Battle
Hymn of the Republic.” It was somber, moving, beautiful – for that moment; but
I hate to admit that at 15, 16, 17 years of age, I more-than-likely was eagerly
anticipating the afternoon’s promised picnic in the park - complete with a
water balloon fight; or the Milwaukee Brewers game and cook-out that awaited,
pulling at my all-too-short teenage attention span.
As young marrieds, my husband (Todd) and I usually
cashed in on the three-day holiday weekend to work in our yard, go to a
blockbuster film, grill brats, or (not that this brought me much joy, but) golfed. However, when I reached my late 20’s, I
dug deep into my closet, dusted off my old trumpet, brushed up on my rusty musical
skills, and joined an area civic band. On Memorial Day, the band volunteered their
time to entertain parade-goers at the end of a local parade route. I found
myself viewing the experience much differently than I had as a teen. I watched closely
as some of the veterans saluted, witnessed tears in their eyes and on their
cheeks, and knew our music meant something deep – deeper than I’d ever realized
ten years before.
In the mid-90’s, Todd and I bought a boat, and for
many years we used the weekend to get out of town – making sure our vessel was
in tip-top mechanical and running order for summer. But then, once our children
joined their own high school marching band, everything changed again. Our
city’s Memorial Day parade was considered ‘required’ for band membership. So we
found ourselves back in the civic mode, cheering on the band as they marched
past us on Main Street, as they played versions of Sousa’s “Stars and Stripes Forever,” and
“America the Beautiful.” By May of 2001,
at the age of 40, I was now the one
who was crying.
What am I trying to say here? What does Memorial Day
really mean to me?
Technically, it is a day set aside to remember those
who died while serving our country; but the day has also become a time for remembering
all who have passed. Last October
(2012), Todd and I had the privilege of visiting the battlefields of
Gettysburg. Looking out over that vast area, listening to the Civil War history,
picturing all that happened there, the blood that was shed - makes everything
more stark – much more real for me; reflecting back on national disasters - some
man-made and man-implemented (9/11, the Boston Marathon bombings) – some
naturally disastrous (hurricanes, floods, tornadoes); And closer to home - the
more I’ve talked with my own dad (presently 90 years old) through the years;
the more stories I’ve listened to him tell about his time spent fighting in World
War II; the fact that my mom passed away and now lies in a local cemetery; a
friend who lost her grandchild way too early; all these experiences have
deepened my overall respect and appreciation for observances of Memorial Day.
It is a
coveted three-day weekend for many. I can’t deny that we love that aspect for
kicking off our summer. We have shopped,
gone to movies, grilled burgers and brats, golfed and boated…
But, for me, as I now reflect back on Memorial Days
past, what stands out the most in my
mind, are all of the years of civic-centered and personally reflective celebrations.
When I participated all those years ago, it seemed to be for others’ memories,
for others’ reflections, maybe even for others’ enjoyment. But thank God I went
through the motions then, because all those experiences have become my own personal memories now… very special memories… and it looks like the
memories last a lifetime…
Here’s hoping you have a blessed and memorable
Memorial Day – however you choose to remember…
God bless America, land that I love…
Katie
Kolberg Memmel is the author of “Five Fingers, Ten Toes – A Mother’s Story of
Raising a Child Born with a Limb Difference.” The book is available through
Amazon as both a paperback and a Kindle download. http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=katie+kolberg+memmel
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