Memorial Day

I have the day off from radiation and chemo, and it's a bit like being a kid and having a snow day -- no need to do the stuff that I usually have to do, that I know is good for me, that I don't mind --but I don't need to do it!

Memorial Day is a different kind of a holiday in New England from what it is in Utah. Living overseas (and with pacifist parents), I don't remember celebrating it as a child. It wasn't like Thanksgiving, Christmas, or even the Fourth of July, when the American expats would get together and try to recreate a real American holiday. It slipped through the cracks.

So when I got to Utah and we went to our first Memorial Day, I had no mental pattern for it. It turned out, in any case, that a Germer Memorial Day was its own unique experience.

In Utah, everyone's graves got decorated, not just military ones. We went to Deweyville, to the little cemetery on the hillside, and put flowers on the family graves. Then to Jerry's cousin's house for a wonderful potluck dinner (wonderful except for Aunt Bertha's beet salad, bless her heart), followed by music, a glorious jam session during which that bunch of church-going Mormons gave the best imitation I've ever seen of a happily drunken brawl. The picture, by the way, dates from 1978 or '79, as far as I can tell. The guys haven't changed a bit.

Things are quieter here. In New England, no one never loses sight of the fact that it's a patriotic holiday. The only decorations are flags on the military graves, and the music is martial, played in parades by high school bands. We stay home and take it easy. I'd add a picture showing Max or Cinda as kids marching in the Marlborough band, but I think they'd disown me. It wasn't their finest musical moment. So instead here is our view of the pond across the street, with Canada geese, ducks, and some ducklings.