Every year for Memorial Day, we would head to St. Mary's Iowa, population around 300. The cemetary there is where my Grandfather and Grandmother on my Mom's side are buried. It's a typical small town cemetary, surrounded by a wrought iron gate, narrow gravel driveway all the way around, and a permanent marble altar in the back for it's Catholic pilgrims to say Mass on just such as occasion.
The Knights of Columbus are also the veterans from WWII, Korea and Vietnam. They exchange their elaborate K of C fezes for small cloth soldier's hats. When I was a kid, these hats always reminded me of the hats that they used to wear at McDonalds. Hey, I had so few references back then!
The men in crisp white short-sleeve shirts would line up in a row, some in shirtsleeves and some with faded cloth jackets, complete with medals. Only the older men wore these, as the younger men had bellies which prohibited them from fitting into those.
After a silent, solemn march in the wet grass, the men stood at attention while a lone trumpet played taps. I always remember thinking that it was improbable that any of these simple farmers could play the tune without messing up, yet I can never remember that happening.
After a few mysterious military orders which made all the men turn and point their guns into the air, several shots rang out over the freshly planted corn fields. Shells from the shotguns fell with a clank on the ground, as all the moms of the young boys held their son's hand tightly and gave them stern looks that said, "Wait a minute!"
As soon as the service was over, the young'uns ran at full speed to pick up the prized shells. The old guys mixed and mingled with the women in their Sunday best. Everyone walked to their cars to get flowers and flats of geraniums from the nursery and garden gloves. Dads used their good Wingtips to dig holes for the moms who planted the flowers and used their gloved hands to wipe the grass and bird poop from the gravestones of their parents.
The teenagers were enlisted to fetch water from the funny old water pipe that just stuck out straight from the ground with a spiggot on top. I remember Mom bringing buckets full of peonies from our yard. To this day, those peonies are still my favorite springtime flower.
Pinwheels appeared on the graves of the infants who's birthdays and death days were only a day apart. Or the same day. Or three months, like my cousins Debbie and Tommy, who died when they were only a few months old.
Everyone stood back and admired their handiwork, and then slowly walked towards the cars again. We would then go back to Aunt Carol's for a potluck lunch.
Comment Preview