Memorial Day
Scott Mclean
I would like to touch on the meaning behind Memorial Day.
Sadly, to many it has just become the start of the camping or vacation season. Maybe that’s not all bad. I kind of like the idea of being remembered by the act of friends and family having a good time. Much better than tearful moping about.
Back to the subject before I take off on another tangent. Memorial Day started as a remembrance for those killed in war but expanded to all our loved ones who have passed.
Mom would start fretting ahead of time worrying that she might not have enough peonies, irises, or lilacs blooming to decorate the graves. We would load the car with buckets full of water and flowers and head out. Sometimes we would meet my Aunt Wanda, Uncle Stan, Tim, and Terri for lunch.
My maternal grandparents, great grandfather, and numerous others of Mom’s family were interred at Terrace Heights. Sherri, or brat as I call her always decorated Joe Casper’s grave. He was injured playing football for Highland when I was in 8th grade. His brother worked for Dad and was in our car watching the game from the end zone when it happened. Joe later died of his injuries. His family moved and I think Sherri was the only one who decorated his grave.
My folks, Lilli’s folks, and my niece all rest there now as well.
We would go to Tahoma to decorate the graves of my paternal grandparents and other of Dad’s relatives. Mom would never put yellow flowers on Grandpa McLean’s grave because I guess he said the color yellow made him feel like he was smothering.
West Hills now holds a lot of McLeans as well as Croswhites and our former neighbor girl.
My brothers ashes were scattered on the Jump Off which is only fitting. TJ had a marker made that he and my boys placed at the Pioneer cemetery in the McLean plot. It’s right next to TA McLean’s marker.
Great Uncle Ted said TA was an ornery old cuss so he and Steve probably would have gotten along great.
I sometimes think that we try to memorialize our loved ones in the hope we won’t be forgotten when our time is up. I definitely don’t want people moping around when I’m gone. Have some fun and tell some stories about the ornery or downright foolish things I did.
Take the time to remember your friends and loved ones who have passed. If I’m having a bad pain night I will sometimes talk with them. So far the conversations are one sided.
Hopefully I will have attained ornery old cuss status myself eventually. I’ll try to keep it lighter next time.
Bye for now.