I Remember...

Through the years, family traditions become the glue that gives us structure and form and memories. Our family, on mom's side especially, has long decorated gravesites on Memorial Day. This honoring and remembrance of our passed loved ones is a sweet time of celebration. Those lives already lived have meaning and impact on us.

Memorial Day is not for just our military connections. But attending a full-blown service at a cemetary on Memorial Day is a lovely and moving ceremony of thanksgiving and remembrance that we do as often as we can. I have very satisfying memories of some of those services.

The anticipation of the day, the gathering of flowers, the stories that are told and retold during this time - these are all bits of glue. Having been raised during a time when snowball bushes and blue iris were carefully tended, with one eye on any impending weather that might gum up the works, I have a special appreciation for those flowers. Sometimes it was wildflowers, more often flowers from boutiful flower beds around the yards, that were gathered and sorted, bunched and secured in jars. Each bouquet was carefully crafted to reflect something about that person it was going to honor by standing sentinal for a time along side the headstone.

This year was another such. Sister Becky and Mom and I had a wonderful time visiting and arranging bouquets, remembering special things about loved relatives.

With mom's list in hand, the jars were arranged in boxes according to where they were going. Some for Siletz, some for Logsden, some for Newport, some for Bay City and Tillamook. Last year Becky cataloged and mapped each site and cemetary, making sure we will be able to continue this tradition long after those who still do remember where everyone is are gone. They will be added to the list in their own turn...

We were able to do the cleaning of headstones in the Tillamook cemetaries well ahead of time, making the day of deliveries easier. Then on to Siletz, where we made our way up to Government Hill, a sacred place for the Siletz tribe. Ancient trees tower over emerald grass, guarding grave sites that are mounded and then covered with flower petals in lovely designs. Unusual and beautiful. You can feel the spirit as you listen to families visiting while working to tidy their family area, doing the decorating. On Memorial Day a drum and chanting ceremony echoes softly through the grove.

When we are lucky, we will run into folks we know. Just as we finished setting vases of flowers out, we were delighted to have some second cousins show up. It's been so long since I've seen Mitzi (on mom's right) and her little sister Teresa. The visit was short, but the connection heartfelt and full of laughter and memories. The girl's mom was my cousin Tinker (Edwina), daughter of mom's sister Clara.

Then on to Logsden, a few miles up the road. One person mom and her youngest sister Ruth always honor is a Finn who lived next door during their time on the farm up the Logsden road. Old Frank Paananen, who had a story of his own. As he told it, he had killed a man in Finland, and was forced to flee the country or spend his life in prison. He left behind his wife and only child, a son. We wonder, do they every remember Frank? Were there records of any sort that he had tucked away for someone to find, and notify his lost family of his death?

I remember Frank as being an old wrinkled gnomish sort of fellow, who had a wonderful dappled workhorse named Minnie. Aunt Ruth used to ride Minnie, standing on her back. Somewhere there is a photo of Ruth standing on Minnie, with her little dog beside her. Mom has a letter Frank wrote, he had addressed it to "Root and Batty", his broken-English names for Ruth and Betty. We are loving reminding mom about being "Batty"!

From the small VFW cemetary on the river road, we continued up to the Logsden bridge, where mom threw a special bouquet into the river where Ruth's ashes had been spread. Then we took time for an impromptu picnic out of the back of the car - the best kind of picnic: on the road wherever you find the time and place just right, potlucking from everyone's snacks and sacks! It was a pretty little park, right on the river off the end of the bridge. A neighborly dog joined us.

Our last stop: Eureka Cemetary in Newport. Becky showed off by walking right to Grampa and Gramma Smith's headstone - then confessed she had looked at her map just before getting out of the car!

I don't know why, but it's always important to take photos at the cemetary.

Cleaning up the headstones, tidying things up for the day.

With Bill along, you can count on some jokes. Aunt Marge and her son Danny are under one headstone in this particular part of the cemetary. I was looking about, and commented on how close together the headstones were, that they must be for ash urns. Becky said,"Yes, it would be hard to get a horizontal body in holes this size...", and I said, "I guess they could put them in vertically...", and Bill said, "Then they wouldn't be buried, they'd be PLANTED!" You had to be there I guess, but we sure laughed!

And so, I remember. I remember with heart and soul, those who have made my life richer for sharing time and memory with me.

My husband, Dennis. His favorite color was orange.

His life is eternally bound to mine. I look forward to the day we will be together again. Death is not a permanent thing, it's a passage. The veil is thin.

I remember:

my dad, Albert Mills Griffin

Grandpa Harry and Grandma Ruby Fellows

Great Aunt Ellen Dowell

Great Aunt Aggie and Uncle Ed

Great Aunts Reliance and Frances
Great Aunt Esther

cousin Tinker Brown

cousin Bobby Simmons

cousin Danny Thornbrue

cousin Mavis

cousin Walt
cousin Tina

Aunt Evie and Uncle Bud Parkes

Aunt Corleone

Aunt Netta

Aunt Georgia and Uncle Red

Dear friends:

Sue Healy

Theresa Kay

Jeff Miller

Glenn Johnson

Bishop Eldon Johnston and Ellen

Mike Johnson

father-in-law Harry Leroy Stauffer

Grandma Helen Stauffer

Grandpa Frank Bishop
Uncle Chris Stauffer

Grandma Pearl and Grandpa Lester Smith

Aunt Ada

Aunt Toddie and Uncle Everett

Aunt Marge

Aunt Jessie

Aunt Ruth and Uncle Jim

Uncle Moke and Aunt Betty Smith

Uncle Mutt and Aunt Phonola Smith

Uncle Henry Smith

I saw this family, and felt an immediate urge to go add my arm to the comforting hug. It could be any family. It was such a good feeling to see several generations together honoring a passed loved one. That's what Memorial Day does for us - when we've been so wrapped up in our day-t0-day busyiness, of just plain daily living in a demanding world - we have a day set apart for us to take time, without any excuses, with thanksgiving, to remember and honor those who have walked and talked with us - who have helped shape who we are.

We NEED to remember.



And I do. I remember.