Memorial Day

On a rare tolerance for leaving the television on for the last 7 minutes of "60 Minutes" last night, I listened to Andy Rooney's thoughts on Memorial Day. Normally I don't listen to Andy--he's a whiner, in my opinion--but his thoughts on veterans are usually good, and he spent the time remembering some of our fallen with glimpses of their being. It wasn't tear-jerking, but it was touching.

Garrison Keillor stated in this morning's "Writer's Almanac" that Memorial Day was a day to remember those fallen in wars, which follows Rooney. Still, I remember Memorial Day as a kid visiting graves of any dead relative--more of an All Saints Day for Ohio Franco-Germans than Memorial Day. My father's brother died of Non-Hodgekins Lymphoma when I was only a baby and he was a truck driver who loved his rig so much they put an etching of it on his tombstone in Melrose, Ohio. My father's father died when my father was just twenty-one and was buried in the Stryker, Ohio cemetery, a small stretch of land framed on two sides by tangled woods and across the road from my friend Alison Chrismer's house. Later, my father's mother joined him there--I was sixteen.

I don't know what my father is doing for the day today...his children are a continent away from him, his immediate family is all dead, and the remains of his wife are in a square brass box in the living room, sitting on his mother's hope chest. He doesn't have a way to plant flowers for her specifically and he's drained the truck's gas tank and gets around by small electric things you can plug in--a golf cart, a scooter--because he hates to contribute to George Bush any more than he has to. My guess is that Melrose and Stryker are a bit out of range on the battery life of both of those vehicles. I hope that he is finding his own way to remember that doesn't involve wallowing. It's a big hope, but it's possible.

As for me, wrestling with what I am here, this is what I remember:

• My mother's beans and franks recipe, which she called "Weinie Beanies"


• My grandmother's love of Sanka and instant iced tea mix


• My great uncle's surprising ability to be the cook in his family


• My Aunt Kay's handwriting and decoration of the card-playing score with ornate designs


• My grandmother, on my mother's side, need to impart tissues on snifflers


• Bess's fetching of Q-Tips

And of the living, because someday none of us will be:

• My brother's knowledge of alcohol concoctions, big cities, and construction techniques


• My sister-in-law's love of NPR


• Gary's hanging his head over the wall and quoting Kramer from Seinfeld


• Emily giving me back "The Lonely Shepherd"


• Mary teaching me chess


• FG and his jazz


• Dad and his love of Red Skelton


• Peggy and Ivan kissing an exchange of saltwater taffy on the Sausalito ferry


• Kathy and I calling each other to tag off


• Beth and Tim and FINALLY a baby


• Bob's singing and Bailey's tennis balls


• Tina's nights at the Mint


• Heleno's love of Madonna


• Adam and Josey dancing to Alison Krauss


• Dawn and I driving to Wagoner, Oklahoma to meet Darron.


• Robin and the Mary J. Blige of "One"


• DK and '68 debates


• MH and statistics of SF


• Jen and her "intermission"

My writing.

Someday, remembered for that.