|Photo of Provo City Cemetery found here|
I’ve always loved Memorial Day weekend. Not because of the weather or the day off or the soldiers (sorry). No, I loved it because it meant a weekend with Dad.
Every Memorial Day weekend that I can remember existing meant Mom would pack a small bag of clothing, a large bag of photos and paper, and fly to Provo, Utah, to spend three solid days scrapbooking and eating M&Ms with Krista and Shelly. While she was there, we would play games and go on adventures with Dad, often involving a trip to Sweet Tomatoes and maybe a bike ride. The best part, though, was that on one night during the weekend, Dad would let us eat ice cream in his bed!
(DON'T TELL MOM!)
In later years, my favorite part shifted from the bedroom ice cream to the small Memorial Day service held at the Winona Cemetery. Some things are said by the cemetery committee, Taps is played, fighter planes fly overhead. We were always given small red poppies to wear. And sometimes cookies to eat.
The two summers I spent in Provo I was sad to know I wouldn’t be going to the Winona Cemetery or eating ice cream in bed. I was able to participate in the scrapbooking weekend (albeit somewhat begrudgingly included by my mother), but it wasn’t quite the same. The Monday following Memorial Day, though, I went to the Provo City Cemetery with my ward to clean up all the flowers left there the week prior. That was always a good experience, particularly when they let me drive the truck with the bed-load of flowers to the dumpster.
This Memorial Day I’ll be heading to the Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge. Gotta keep some traditions alive, right? Maybe when I get home I’ll eat ice cream in bed.