Memorial Day Reflections . . .

Growing up in Gettysburg in the 1950's and 60's was a unique experience for any youngster in this little historic town. While Waterloo, N.Y. gets the credit for being the first to celebrate "Decoration Day" (now known as Memorial Day), I think it is fair to say that the townspeople of Gettysburg took this tradition to the next level.

In our day, elementary and middle school children assembled with their teachers on Buford Avenue. We arrived at the gathering site ladened with fresh cut flowers (lilacs, peonies, and mock orange were most common) and stood patiently in line until the parade commenced. Participating in this parade was a "big deal" and more than one teacher would remind us that we were continuing a tradition that had started decades ago when Civil War orphans marched the same route to the National Cemetery. Since most of knew that there was in fact a Civil War era orphanage in our town, it didn't much matter if the teachers had all their facts straight or not . . . we just knew that our mission was to strew flowers on all the soldier's graves in a very moving ceremony that was the climax of the day's activities.

I don't remember how many of these parades I participated in over the 10 years or so that I was "eligible" . . . but, probably more than half of them is a good guess. I do remember it being a ritual that I looked forward to each Spring and a very touching experience at the cemetery. The junior high school band would play "Save in the Arms of Jesus", over and over, as we walked the long rows of brave markers and lay the flowers. One got the sense that this was all somehow very much larger than we understood at such a young age . . . I remember how quickly emotions would change from happy - to sad - to happy again during the course of ceremony.

Another memory associated with Memorial Day was my Dad's faithful visits to The Evergreen Cemetery early in the morning of this holiday. We didn't own a car so it was a trek to walk from my homeplace to the civilian cemetery which is adjacent to the National Cemetery. I can't remember ever not going with Dad . . . we'd take flowers and small flags along to decorate all of his ancestor's graves in our family plot. We had a number of Civil War period ancestors in the plot and he'd take the time each year to give me a history lesson about each one of them. It was a beautiful tradition. He always said: "It's important to remember them". Our plot is right up against the iron fence that divides the two cemeteries and I remember seeing the thousands of tiny flags that had been placed on each of them for the big parade ceremony that would occur a few hours later in the day.

Post ceremony activities at home always involved the first cook out of the season . . . looking back, it's funny . . . we had an old round grill on three legs, we snapped dead twigs to build a small fire, and roasted hot dogs. Nothing fancy, just a nice late afternoon in the old back yard.

I recall being sick on two different occassions and unable to march in the parade . . . I remember sitting on my Grandparent's porch and watching the parade go by. They lived at 13 Steinwehr Avenue at the intersection of Baltimore Street and Steinwehr Ave.

It was many years later that I eventually understood the true meaning of Memorial Day . . . having lost high school friends in the Vietnam War, after serving over 25 years in the Armed Forces, and having buried my Dad (a veteran of WWII and Korea). I'm convinced the experiences of my youth elevated me to a higher level of appreciation of what this day means. I'm thankful to have had those experiences in my youth.