Memorial Day
Today is Memorial Day, a day of remembrance, I thought I would share my memories of how, when I was a child, my family would spend Memorial Day.
My Maternal Grandfather had a big green and white passenger van. On Memorial Day we would go to his house in Stoughton, he would have the van loaded up and ready to go. In the way-back he would put two 55 gallon trash barrels filled to brimming with flowers and water, gladiolas if I remember correctly. During the year, he would save up coffee cans, he would cover them with tin foil, they would be in the van too. My family would pile into the van, my parents, grandparents, my sister and me and we would make the rounds of the cemeteries where relatives were buried. We would go to the one in Sharon where my grandmother's parents were buried, and the one in Hyde Park where my great uncles were buried, we would go to all the graves of my relatives in several different cemeteries. At each grave site, my grandfather would hand one of us kids a coffee can and tell us to find the water tap and get him some water, we would eagerly run off and find it, (after a while we knew where the water taps were in every cemetery.) If the cemetery didn't have a public water tap, he would take some water from one of the barrels in the back. Then he would take some of the flowers, trim the stems and fill the coffee can with them. Then he would wire the coffee can to the headstone.
Eventually we would end up at the Cedar Grove Cemetery in Dorchester. Incidently, that is where my Grandparents are buried, right near the main gate. There are several places in Cedar Grove we would leave flowers, I have many relatives buried there. Eventually ending up near the main gate, where ther are several headstones clustered together, that mark the final resting places of relatives. At Cedar Grove my Grandmother would take her lawn chair and set it up for the parade that would be entering eventually. There were bands and military units and flags, for a kid it was fun. I didn't know what it meant then, I do now. As a kid, I never understood why the band would stop playing as it entered the cemetery, and just keep the step with a single drum beat, I do now. We would watch them march in, they would lay the wreath at the tomb of the unknown soldier, fire a salute, play Taps, then march through the cemetery and out to the street again, on to the next cemetery. We would pile ourselves into the van again, and head back to my grandparents house for a bar-b-que.
At the time, it was just a day of fun for us kids, we didn't understand why we did it, we just know we did it. I'm kind of glad we did, in a way it taught me to respect what cemeteries represent and respect for those that have passed on. For those who stand up and fight for what they believe in, even if it means giving their lives.
My Grandfather was too young for WWI and too old for WWII, so he didn't serve in the military, but he was part of the Civil Defense unit here in Boston, and I remember the stories he and my grandmother would tell about the air raid sirens going off, and having to turn out all the lights, and the dark green window shades. He had a white helmet and had to be out on the street during the drills, knocking on peoples doors if he saw any light showing through their blinds. I remember the stories.
Memorial day...Makes me remember my Grandfather, he's been gone 33 years, I still miss him.
My Maternal Grandfather had a big green and white passenger van. On Memorial Day we would go to his house in Stoughton, he would have the van loaded up and ready to go. In the way-back he would put two 55 gallon trash barrels filled to brimming with flowers and water, gladiolas if I remember correctly. During the year, he would save up coffee cans, he would cover them with tin foil, they would be in the van too. My family would pile into the van, my parents, grandparents, my sister and me and we would make the rounds of the cemeteries where relatives were buried. We would go to the one in Sharon where my grandmother's parents were buried, and the one in Hyde Park where my great uncles were buried, we would go to all the graves of my relatives in several different cemeteries. At each grave site, my grandfather would hand one of us kids a coffee can and tell us to find the water tap and get him some water, we would eagerly run off and find it, (after a while we knew where the water taps were in every cemetery.) If the cemetery didn't have a public water tap, he would take some water from one of the barrels in the back. Then he would take some of the flowers, trim the stems and fill the coffee can with them. Then he would wire the coffee can to the headstone.
Eventually we would end up at the Cedar Grove Cemetery in Dorchester. Incidently, that is where my Grandparents are buried, right near the main gate. There are several places in Cedar Grove we would leave flowers, I have many relatives buried there. Eventually ending up near the main gate, where ther are several headstones clustered together, that mark the final resting places of relatives. At Cedar Grove my Grandmother would take her lawn chair and set it up for the parade that would be entering eventually. There were bands and military units and flags, for a kid it was fun. I didn't know what it meant then, I do now. As a kid, I never understood why the band would stop playing as it entered the cemetery, and just keep the step with a single drum beat, I do now. We would watch them march in, they would lay the wreath at the tomb of the unknown soldier, fire a salute, play Taps, then march through the cemetery and out to the street again, on to the next cemetery. We would pile ourselves into the van again, and head back to my grandparents house for a bar-b-que.
At the time, it was just a day of fun for us kids, we didn't understand why we did it, we just know we did it. I'm kind of glad we did, in a way it taught me to respect what cemeteries represent and respect for those that have passed on. For those who stand up and fight for what they believe in, even if it means giving their lives.
My Grandfather was too young for WWI and too old for WWII, so he didn't serve in the military, but he was part of the Civil Defense unit here in Boston, and I remember the stories he and my grandmother would tell about the air raid sirens going off, and having to turn out all the lights, and the dark green window shades. He had a white helmet and had to be out on the street during the drills, knocking on peoples doors if he saw any light showing through their blinds. I remember the stories.
Memorial day...Makes me remember my Grandfather, he's been gone 33 years, I still miss him.