rememorial day

It's Memorial Day again.  As a central Pennsylvania girl long before I moved to central Pennsylvania, Memorial Day in Boalsburg is full of history.

This is how we celebrate it now:  my little family joins my mother, father and brother in a trek through the cemetery in Boalsburg putting flowers on the graves of dead relatives.  It involves getting along with those people for at least an hour.  It involves telling my daughters stories of the relatives.  Probably the same stories each year, but since I doubt they are really listening the stories seem fresh.

How we used to celebrate was certainly different.  When the great aunts and uncles, now the beneficiaries of the flowers, were alive the cemetery visit was an amazing adventure.  We'd meet at Anna Nanna's (it was years before I found out her name was really Aunt Anna Mary) sweet little house with the gorgeous garden.  Someone had visited a florist for the beginnings of the arrangements, but so many of the flowers came from Anna Nanna's garden.  Columbines are forever a symbol of this day for me and always make me think of her.  I'm sure my help was less than helpful, so I'd wander about to check out the sheep and their little backyard surrounded by trees and covered in succulent grass.  In any case, what seemed like hundreds of people put together these fabulous arrangements- the floral containers stored in their garage just for this day, as far as I know.  I don't remember how we got the flowers and the people across Atherton to the cemetery, but we did.  Wow, what a big deal to get just the right flowers to the right relative.  In those days, I probably hadn't even known any of the people.  The list was long.  I probably whined and was in a hurry, but I don't remember it as being tedious.

Aunt Anna Mary and Uncle Fred were so interesting.  They were childless, so their house was probably a nightmare for my mother when my brother and I were young.  I remember Anna Nanna as a sweet, little old lady who always wore classic clothing and school marm tie up pumps.   She had this sweet lady voice, but really was tough as could be.  She had a foot pump organ which she eventually allowed my brother and I to play.  She had a gorgeous braided rug that I seem to remember she let me help mend on occasion.  Uncle Fred was interesting.  He was pretty crotchedy and a wealth of bad language by the time I knew him.  I just talked to someone the other day who'd interviewed him years ago.  He was a famous guy in his day.  In my day, he was a bald guy with good stories.

I remember one time at Anna Nanna's when her younger sister, the bold one, was visiting and she and I laid out in the back yard in our bras and underwear.  (I may actually not have been a bra wearer at the time.)  Aunt Ginny was absolutely my favorite.  She was all things cool and sophisticated.  She had gorgeous silver hair and always wore fabulous silver jewelry (definitely my role model for loving silver jewelry) and she knew just the right colors to wear to be gorgeous.  Aunt Ginny and Uncle Dave lived in Pennington, New Jersey for many years.  We'd go visit them every year, stay in their adorable house and go to the Jersey shore for a day trip.  Aunt Ginny loved Fiestaware- which I still love.  Uncle Dave was a jigsaw puzzle man.  We always did puzzles on that trip.  It was awesome when Aunt Ginny and Uncle Dave moved to Boalsburg!  They were so much closer.  I loved visiting them more frequently!

No Memorial Day retrospective is complete without mentioning Aunt Fern and Uncle Bob.  They had a sweet little house next to the park.  For years and years, I'd walk past their house with the wisteria tree and think of them.  (The tree is gone now.)  Aunt Fern was in charge of the annual soup and bread sale in downtown Boalsburg for as many years as I can remember.  This soup thing happens to this day.  We don't usually catch that event any more.  It was on the agenda for many, many years- even after she was gone.  Something about many people's vegetable combined into one and bread slathered in butter is a real treat after the decorating of the graves.  I don't remember much about Uncle Bob and Aunt Fern- they were pretty quiet.  Their only child was run over by a car when she was 16, perhaps that's why they seemed so quiet.

Boalsburg was a big part of my childhood, even though I didn't live near back then.  The great aunts and uncles, the tribute to Memorial Day, the craft booths, the family gatherings, the canons booming, the military museum all were a huge part of my family experience.  Then I got married and moved to Maryland and coming to Boalsburg for Memorial Day seemed too much of an ordeal, so we didn't.  Unfortunately, by the time we moved back to Pennsylvania, all these wonderful relatives were permanent residents of the cemetery.

So now, I bring my daughters to put flowers on the graves of the people I knew and loved who never knew my babies.  Rebecca asked me today at each grave if that person knew I had children.  The answer was always no.  So I told her little stories of each one.  The flowers are not so much for the dead, but for the living aren't they?

This event was made all the more poignant by the discovery of the saddest tombstone of all.  It's actually a beautiful tombstone- dark stone, with a pretty beach scene etched on the right and a coastline with houses on the left side.  A very peaceful tombstone.  The name etched so distinctly in the stone and in our hearts- visible from far away.  This grave site- too new to be covered with grass- is now covered in beautiful flower petals.  Rebecca and I stood there crying as we pulled the petals to decorate the grave of her beloved gym teacher who was much, much too young to leave this world.

alpha and omega

I have two favorite times of year: the beginning of everything and the end of everything.  Why is that?  I love the excitement of new activities.  The thrill of making the schedule work.  The joy of going from the somewhat uncluttered, unstructured summer to the carefully orchestrated schedule of fall.  But yet, equally exciting to me is the culmination of the chaos as one by one the school year activities wrap up.  I love having my Tuesdays full of church friends and kids, but I also love having my Tuesdays uncluttered with responsibility.  I love the excitement of classes beginning, but I love the relief of having all the work done, the stress relieved.  I love the thrill of the beginning of rehearsals for the middle school musical and the utter chaos entailed by tech week and performances.  But I also love watching my child, one of many, shine on the stage and then having the experience be over.  Finite.  I love the joy of nagging and fretting about getting the younger spawn to choir rehearsals, easily forgotten on a Thursday morning (that might be sarcasm).  But I also love watching the final choir concert where she belts out her favorite songs regardless of those around her.  Still to come.. two band concerts, an older spawn choir concert, a piano recital.   That's ok.  They are soon and will be incredible (or at least amusing- I guarantee that Katie beating a bass drum and plucking a string bass will be mighty hilarious.)  The older spawn, in spite of her whining about the practicing, positively sparkles on stage.

It's not just the kids who have beginnings and endings.  As I said, I just finished a class at Penn State- difficult but also enjoyable and worthwhile.  The culmination there was a paper and a presentation.  The presentation I really could have done without.  Really.  So, now Monday nights are free.  This is also a beginning, however.  Today I took the GRE for the first time ever.  I was nervous, panicked even.  I finally convinced myself that I could live with my results because I could always fork over the mula to take it again.  Well, not positive, but I think I may not have to take it again.  This is big for me.  This means I actually have to finish my application to grad school- a new beginning.  I have closed my eyes and leaped!!  I have no limits! (I'm paraphrasing "Defying Gravity" here.)  It doesn't matter that I'm old as dirt- probably too old for a career change- or that I'm not entirely sure I want to switch from the cushy job I currently have (which is possibly there for me next year, possibly not).  What matters is that I'm embracing a new beginning.  Yes, I've already taken 3 classes for the Masters.  So it's really not a beginning.  Still, I have to finish an application, put my fate in the hands of someone else who might decide that I'm not right for the program.  I'm willing to take that chance.  If I can conquer (to a point) a big, scary test, I can finish an application.

That's not all I have by way of beginnings and endings.  New beginnings:  I was asked to help backstage at the first production of the local summer theater.  How cool is that?  I had great fun helping backstage last summer at the musical of the season, "Hello Dolly".  It was fun!  I fully expect to help again this summer during the show that a friend's daughter has been cast in.  I love being asked to do something!  Who doesn't like to be needed and wanted?  Other new beginnings involve summer and the relaxed chaos that brings.  I'm teaching more summer camps than ever before.  Pretty terrifying, but equally exciting- or would be if I had a clue what I was doing.  Endings?  Yes, I have endings.  I'm done worrying about something I have fixed as well as I can.  I'm done beating myself up for making a bad decision. I'm not perfect, but I am dreadfully sorry.  That's the end.  No more tears, recriminations, wishes.  Life is too short to be sorry for what cannot be fixed.  I kissed the boo boo and now we move on.

"Some things I cannot change, but till I try I'll never know."  Change is a beginning... but it's also an ending.  Either way, the spawn and I get to belt along with YouTube.