Tradition: Then and Now
Memorial Day weekend was difficult this year. Not in a way I would have anticipated either.
For years, 30 at least, since my return to Ohio, I have made the annual trek to the graves of my ancestors prior to the Memorial Day services in the small town cemetery, and groused about it the whole week before. Graves are to be “decorated” in memory of the deceased. Stories are told and retold while holes are dug for petunias, impatiens, marigolds or salvia. Three per grave. The Watts side of the family then the Tanner side, down over the hill. And of course there is the cursory wandering around to see who has taken up residence during the past year. Which also involves more stories. Stories about the recently deceased, some anecdotal funny from 60 or 70 years ago. This is all wrapped up with a stop at my cousin’s and short visit on her porch swing, followed by lunch at the Dairy Queen. The itinerary never varies.
I’m not sure when the cut Irises and peonies from Grandma Watt’s garden became annuals planted in neat rows. Maybe the glass Mason jars became a hazard when riding mowers replaced the old reel mowers in the cemetery. Maybe someone deemed it not ecologically prudent. But times changed. The “tradition” changed. Irises and peonies in Mason jars gave way to greenhouse plants in peat pots. We had to carry water in jugs because the old spigots that stood in the cemetery for years had rusted and were removed……another safety hazard I suppose.
The bugler who played Taps every year since time began now rests among the “poppies row on row”. We saw his name last year – a new head stone. He was over 100 when he died and played every Memorial Day well into his 90’s, probably at least 80 years of playing the bugle on Memorial Day in that cemetery. I wonder who plays that bugle now at the end of the service? Who will recite the Gettysburg address this year, that I labored over, nervous and sweaty palmed, 50 years ago, at Lincoln’s statue, in that cemetery, American Legion color guard, the mayor, and other dignitaries looking on. Do they still do that?
The band now has summer uniforms – no struggling up the steep hill to the graves in heavy wool uniforms, long pants, shoulder pads, plumed hats. Someone always fainted, usually at the last turn going up the hill. Volunteer EMTs from the squad that followed at the end of the parade would make their way forward with a stretcher and water. By the time they arrived the faintor would be revived and sitting off on the side of the hill while the rest of the marching band struggled on to the top. Only one casualty allowed per year. No one faints in shorts and polo shirts made of cotton and polyester Summer uniforms? It was something we didn’t even dream of.
What does this have to do with you? Well, times change for all of us. Traditions change and the older we get the harder this is on our psyche. How we handle this, what we put in place of the old traditions can make a difference.
This year my mom was not able to make the trip. I suspected this might be the case last year when she could only sit in the car and look on while I planted the flowers. The wheelchair wouldn’t make it over the bumpy ground. Some of the stories and names in the telling were a little confused. No one was home at my cousin’s house. It was kind of a last hurrah though neither one of us spoke that thought aloud. It wasn’t even mentioned this year. Mom has a hard time sitting up for long periods of time and three hours in the car was just not going to happen. We talked at some point on Memorial Day but about something unrelated and neither of us mentioned the graves, the flowers, Ned the bugler or the Dairy Queen. We didn’t even acknowledge the day.
Another tradition gone, like putting out milk and cookies for Santa on Christmas Eve, like birthday parties with magic candles and cake, like making a wish on the first star at night. Time passes. Kids grow up. Bugler’s die. Things change.
So how do we let go of the sadness that often accompanies these changes? Made new ones !!! Last Monday evening I found myself sorting through some old pictures I came across unexpectedly. I was sad and moody and knew at some level it had to do with the loss of a tradition that I never thought I’d be sorry to see end. It had been a hassle many years – time I didn’t really have to make the trip but fit it in anyway because it was what Mom wanted. Among the pictures were some of my mother and her cousin taken some long ago Memorial Day on the infamous porch swing. I knew what I needed to do. Those photos and a long letter went out to my mom on Tuesday. I wish I had had the forethought for her to get them by Memorial Day but I didn’t . Now, however, there is always next year. In the letter I talked about all the things I’ve just shared with you in this blog along with other memories of long ago picnics and family reunions on Memorial Days past. I also asked her to work with some of her caregivers to get the pictures we have stashed and stored for generations labeled before it’s too late. This is a legacy she can pass on to me to help me remember and not just on “Memorial Day”.
Letter writing has almost become a thing of the past. Don’t let it. It can be a way of passing on “traditions” at least through words to your kids and grandkids. It is a way of keeping older family members in the loop on days when there used to be family get togethers that are no longer possible because of infirmity, distance, time constraints. Write about the times you have had, the memories you have shared. Enclose pictures. A good friend sent me a note last week with two “slides” (remember those?) enclosed. They had been taken many, many years ago on a summer vacation my parents took with friends in Massachusetts. I had them made into photos to share with my mom. I’ll mail them in June, the month of that long ago vacation. I’ll remind her of the house they stayed in next door to Joel Grey, the actor, and the beach and cool breezes, Dad’s sunburn. The house has been sold, the friend now living in Florida. The traditional trip to the beach no longer possible physically but still there in a letter.
You choose. Give the turkey roaster to your daughter along with your recipe for turkey gravy. Or let her choose the menu SHE will fix for YOU Thanksgiving next year. Or pick a restaurant. Make that your new tradition. Send cookies to your son, daughter-in-law and grandkids in California this year instead of missing the milk and cookies for Santa under the tree. Birthdays – everyone is spread out across the country. Put together a birthday box, candles, noise makers, hats, small gifts, a cake mix. Mail it in time to arrive for the birthday. get on SKYPE to light the candles together. Go through old photo albums and make copies of past Halloweens, Birthdays, vacations and other “traditional” events. Then share. New traditions are only an idea away.
Think about it.