Memorial Day

The next few days are going to be busy, so I guess I should cover the weekend's soapbox issues now. Expecting my sissy tomorrow. I hope the weekend will be fun!!

It seems that America has now focused Memorial Day on military veterans who gave all. Don't get me wrong: I come from a long line of veterans and give them their due every chance I get, but isn't that what Veteran's Day is for?? I prefer to consider Memorial Day as the day to honor ALL of our loved ones who have gone before. I am too far away from my family's cemetery to decorate their graves on Memorial Day but am grateful to Aunt Rosie who continues to do that. The past few years, Megan and the children and I toured nine cemeteries in Putnam County here in Indiana each Memorial Day to leave a tiny flower or something to remember her ancestors on her father's side of the family. Some of those visits were funny; some were touching; and some were strange.

The Fillmore, IN, cemetery where Megan's McNary grandparents are buried is a lovely place, but it is in such a small town that there is NO public restroom anywhere that we could find. I was getting desperate...I mean REALLY desperate. Thankfully, the cemetery has an outhouse! Ahhh....

It was in that same cemetery that Megan was near her grandparents' graves and a butterfly landed on her. I guess there is a legend about butterflies representing the spirits of those we love. She was tearful thinking that her grandparents were giving her a message.

Again, in that cemetery, Ryan found the grave of a child. (He was still in diapers...quite young.) There were little toys on/near the gravestone. He stayed at that site for a long time, talking to himself or to someone invisible. At times, the rest of us wandered somewhat far from him, keeping our eye on him, but he was content to stay there all by himself. A bit later, he talked about a friend there... Gave me goosebumps.

In search of the New Providence Cemetery, we turned too soon and ended up on a rut-road that ran over a creek and up a steep hill through some woods. There was no way to turn around. I wasn't sure we would make it! When we finally got to the top, it opened up into a small clearing of maybe six houses, called "Sunshine Praise Point." Apparently it is a small religious community. Not wishing to go back the way we came, we stopped a young man who was outside and asked if there was another way out. He laughed and said, "Nope". We turned around and made it back down to US 40--although I'm not sure how--and determined not to make that wrong turn again!

At the New Providence Cemetery, we found Meg's ancestors. Interestingly, there was a little play area for children at the entrance of the place. The kids ran off to play there while Megan and I looked for gravestones. When we called the children back to the car, the little dress Robin was wearing was covered with something yellow and yucky on the front. I assumed the worst, asking her if she had thrown up on herself. She said she had...but minutes later, her brother ratted on her. She had found a robin's egg and somehow managed to smash it on herself... (That particular dress also got irreparably torn going under a barbed wire fence at another cemetery that same day. It was the only time Robin wore it! I hated that!)

In another cemetery (I can see it in my mind but can't remember the name--Mount Olive or something?) Ryan made a comment that I found interesting. He pointed to some gravestones and said, "At least we aren't trapped." After a few questions, I came to understand that, in his little mind, he believed that his mother's relatives were trapped inside the gravestones. Oh, the minds of children!

Megan had been seeking the gravestones of some of her Bryan ancestors in a huge cemetery in Greencastle, IN. When we approached the place, I understood that it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, but I pointed the car toward what looked like an older section of the cemetery and stopped toward the top of a hill. "Oh! There's a Bryan!" I said. Meg hadn't seen it yet. "Which one?" I said the name, and she let out a shriek. It was the very Bryan she had been looking for. We totally lucked out on that! One of the stones had been removed--that of a cousin, Pearl Bryan, who had been murdered and decapitated back in the 1800s. Vandals had removed her headstone a number of times, so all that remains is the base stone to which people have affixed pennies, "heads" side up, so that Pearl might find her head somewhere in Heaven. (Her head was never recovered. The story of Pearl Bryan can be found on the Internet. Big deal!)

One cemetery story that I find sad to this day is that of Alexander Farrow--maybe Megan's great-great-great-grandfather (could even be another "great" on there). He was a pioneer statesman in Indiana...even served on the state's Constitutional Convention. Father of 12 or 13 children. Gave part of his land as a final resting place for his family and others. Their gravestones now stand largely unattended in the middle of a business that sells golf carts and horse trailers at the intersection of Rockville Road and SR 231 in Putnam County. Such undignified surroundings for such a dignified man and his family!

There are those who might think that our cemetery wanderings are weird, but I find them to be peaceful places. My grandmother used to take us to Moon Point Cemetery in Illinois where most of my family is buried...to have picnics. Far from being afraid of ghostly presences, I find peace in cemeteries.

On a brighter note, one time (after several cemetery excursions) we were taking the grandchildren to visit some family. One of them declared, "We are going to visit relatives that are alive!" I thought that was cute. Happy Memorial Day weekend, my friends!