I got the pictures off of mom's camera so I can finally post this. I was in a bit of a strange mood when I posted so you're forwarned.
Memorial day has always been a bit of a mystery holiday to me. I understood the concept, even have attended some memorial service, but didn’t have family traditions associated with that day. I’ve gone to memorial services when I remember too, but often its just a day off from work. I’ve been told the stories of my Grandfather who served in WWII and the Korean War. Many other extended family members, my parents’ aunts, uncles, cousins, etc also served their country. I’ve been very proud of that heritage and legacy and have thought of them specifically on Memorial Day. Many times as a young adult I seriously considered joining up but was always led a different way.
Anyways this weekend I got to experience some of the traditions my parents have associated with Memorial Day. 
I took a last minute trip with them up to Idaho for a small reunion of my 
mother’s cousins (on her mother’s side). We placed flowers on the graves of my relatives, and they told me the stories once again. For them, Memorial day was all about honoring those who came before, and reconnecting to home and family. I got to see other families bringing their children and extended relatives to clean the headstones, place flowers, trim the grass, take pictures and share stories. At Angela’s ward yesterday one of the girls shared how her family would go to cemeteries wherever they lived and provide service by cleaning up and tending neglected graves. This is something I want to do. I have relatives buried in Utah. Some we don’t know where, but I believe a great-great grandmother is buried in Provo Pioneer Cemetery, not too far from where I live. I want to make my own traditions of this holiday from here on out.
I took a last minute trip with them up to Idaho for a small reunion of my 
mother’s cousins (on her mother’s side). We placed flowers on the graves of my relatives, and they told me the stories once again. For them, Memorial day was all about honoring those who came before, and reconnecting to home and family. I got to see other families bringing their children and extended relatives to clean the headstones, place flowers, trim the grass, take pictures and share stories. At Angela’s ward yesterday one of the girls shared how her family would go to cemeteries wherever they lived and provide service by cleaning up and tending neglected graves. This is something I want to do. I have relatives buried in Utah. Some we don’t know where, but I believe a great-great grandmother is buried in Provo Pioneer Cemetery, not too far from where I live. I want to make my own traditions of this holiday from here on out. Here is my cute mom really enjoying being with her family. Here is a picture of my great Aunt Helen and Uncle Ivan. I've always felt close to them. Aunt Helen really looks like my grandmother, and Uncle Ivan has always been like a grandfather to us.
Last is Angela and Thorpe heading over to read the war monument.
Last is Angela and Thorpe heading over to read the war monument. 
My mother’s father’s grave didn’t have a flag on it. This really upsets my mom and they have tried to rectify it for as long as he has beeen gone. They often leave him off of memorials and such. At the park in Parker (where the reunion was held) I looked at the war memorial and I think he was on that one (They put Robert J Ricks instead of Robert L Ricks). We bought a flag to put on his grave. I noticed that most, if not all, of the graves with flags mentioned their war service and so I’m going to get a little plaque to put on his grave so he won’t be forgotten in the future. I don’t 
think he minds, but he did sacrifice a lot, and so did his family and it really matters to my mom. He wasn’t on this earth very long, passed away when my mom was 7 years old or so, ant the long years he spent overseas and away from his family are a precious sacrifice to his family. I tried to look up his military record but it’s not a simple search…. Seems like most government organizations end up complicating things!I'm next to my mom's baby sister's grave, my Aunt Harriet.
This is a picture of the house my father's mother's father built. Most of the farm is gone, but the house is still there. Thats amazing!
Do you feel a pull or tie to the land? I’ve been thinking of this since I attended the family reunion with my mother. Do I have a homeland? New Mexico definitely feels like home since that’s where I was raised, and my parents still live. Its an old land, and we are newcomers. My parents both came from Idaho for a couple of generations and this area is “home” to them. From Idaho the family spreads out to England, Kentucky, New England, and on and on. A true homeland for my family would probably be England, although there are German, Scottish, Irish, Netherlands, and Prussia roots on the fringes. I feel a connection, but not a tie to any of these places. Makes me feel a little lost, but I maybe its just right now. I definitely feel a connection to my extended family. Maybe this is why I love gardening and digging in the dirt. I have probably a somewhat romanticized vision of eking out an existence on the land, but I know its hard work. I read a history one of my mom’s cousins put together of their grandparents. I had known they were poor, but this time it really sunk in what poor meant to them. They were a happy home, and my great aunt said that she didn’t realize how poor they were until much later, or what the great depression meant. They were a very happy family. Its interesting to contrast the two sides of the family. Pretty similar circumstances, with similar backgrounds, but one created happy childhood memories and the other did not.
We made sure to put flowers on my father’s father’s grave. Dad remembers as a little boy asking someone once on memorial day why they didn’t put any flowers on that grave. The answer was an unsatisfactory “we don’t need to,” and the conversation ended. My dad isn’t perfect (don't tell him I said that) but I am constantly amazed at the man he is and the great father he became when all the cards were stacked against him. He is someone that was able to find some positive aspects in a messed up family and not pass on the generational ickyness. I don’t know much about his father, but I honor him because of my dad. When we went back to water the flowers and put some stakes in, someone had added another bunch of flowers to my grandfather’s grave. Perhaps one of my dad’s step sisters have been doing this in behalf of my father. Such a small gesture, but very meaningful to me.
It was a fun quick trip. Dad was happy and relaxed because they were going to buy his new pickup truck, aka Betsy.
It was fun to see Angela in college too.
I took the shuttle from Rexburg back to SaltLake. Its longer then if I drove myself but its nice not to have to drive, and I got to ride up with the parents. My driver is licensing to classical music station and its really fun. Right now is Vivaldi’s summer, from the 4 season, the last movement, one that sounds like a thunder storm. Its incredible, and I had forgotten how much I enjoy some of this music! Now a cello duet is playing amazing grace. Incredibly beautiful. The scenary is beautiful, the grass has gotten so green with snow on the summits, flowers blooming in the valleys, calves sitting by the grazing cows, a swoaring buzzard. Green, green, green.
Picked up a guy from Texas (dallas/fort worth mess according to him) in Pocatello. His daughter and son in law had just moved there from back east to do his residency. It was really fun to listen in. He had something to say about most everything. Everything from the land we were passing through, to kids: “having kids is like getting ATM tattooed on your forhead” to politics “my friend has a small business that’s been hit hard by this stuff [economy] so he went out to the parking lot and wrote down everyone who had an Obama sticker and figured he would lay them off first.” “My friend only votes for incumbents, don’t want to ruin another good man.” To weather: "two seasons in texas Too hot and I don’t know what the other is.” the bus driver responded with "well, there are three seasons in Idaho: July, August, and winter."
I got back home in time to enjoy the evening getting things done in the yard, and wasn't super tired for work the next day. I need more vacations like that!
