When I was a kid we would get up
pretty early on Memorial day. After breakfast head to the cemetery,
the windswept spot west of town where we would take care of family
graves, unless we had done it a couple of days before. In my
earliest remembering it was the resting places of my mother's
grandfather, his son and two of my grandmother's uncles---all who had
been killed in a mine explosion. Not all of them were in the
cemetery, two were still entombed in the mine shaft where the
accident had taken place, many were never removed because of the
danger and the mine was sealed off. But there was a monument at the
site and so still served as a reminder. Also was the grave of my
grandfather's first wife with a tall white spike enclosed by a black
wrought iron fence.
My grandfather died when I was 10 and
his resting place was added to our pilgrimage and cleanup duties.
After taking care of these special spots we would often go on a
fishing trip to the Freezeout Mountains, or possibly Pass Creek or
Brush Creek by Snowy Range. Of course preparations had been made
well ahead of time.
Occasionally we would be in town for
the afternoon program of speeches, etc.
When I got married and Bob and I
settled on a farm in Mink Creek, ID, life was still taking care of
graves, generally the day before, of his family in the Mink Creek
Cemetery and in the Grace, ID cemetery since his mother hailed from
that area. Following these chores on the day itself was a McGregor
family reunion, held in Thatcher, ID, at the school house. This is
how I got acquainted with that side of his family over the years. It
was always potluck and visiting with the woman side and sharing
recipes was a plus.
My first memory after marriage however
was that of going with my in-laws to the Grace Cemetery and on the
way home having my first experience with the early pains of
childbirth. It is a memory etched in my life forever of course for
various reasons. I remember Bob's uncle Vernon sho was driving,
being being excited because it was a new experience for him, having
never had a child himself. He took Grandma Jessie and me to the
Erickson home and our vigil began. In the wee hours the next
morning, she and I went to the hospital where she stayed with me for
the next several hours. What a blessing to have my own LPN with me
for the first time! Danalee arrived around noon, about 16 hours
after the first pains and Jessie went to call Bob and tell him he was
a father, he was driving our small load of personal belongings up
from Provo to the farm we were buying in Mink Creek. I have written another story about this event previously so this is the limited version.
One year Bob and I happened to be in
Hanna for the only class reunion I have ever attended and we were
there for Memorial Day doings. The program at the cemetery, a
dinner with the reunion, a dance with friends. But this was only a
one time thing. Our children were being tended at my parents home while I reminisced with my classmates of yore. Memorial Day seems to be the day that Hanna chooses
for Reunions, but we have only been there that time. People
scatter, but this day brings many to their roots for just a few hours
or days.
Years have gone by, other than the new
baby, activities are still similar. Reunion disappeared after a few
years when it got too big, too involved. Then on our farm about 20
years ago, we began doing a McGregor Reunion down at our park on the
farm. Sister -in-law Karen and I figured it was a way to celebrate the holiday, help our children to know it was a special day, not just one of farm chores, and
whatever relatives happened to be in the area at the time were
invited to join as they wanted. One year it was so cold we had to wrap a tarp around the pavilion and heat it with a space heater for any comfort---still fun.
I often wonder if there is anyone
taking care of the Wyoming graves. I still feelconnected to those
people. I know that my Bundy cousin will take care of things at the
Casper cemetery, but he is now 88 himself and has had multiple heart
problems this past year. Those Cowdin sites in Rawlins possibly go
unnoticed. I know that my sister will be tending to our parents
graves in Layton, UT. This makes me grateful that they spent their
last days closer to us and so were buried within closer driving
distance. Now we are the old people. Who will live close enough to
tend our graves when the time comes? Years pass, the family spreads
beyond reach, traditions change.
