It's been a memorable Memorial Day but one completely different from those of my youth. When I was younger, we would watch the parade down Main Street as Dad marched w/ the veterans (Dad was in WW II). Then when I was in high school I marched w/ the band down this same street, the street that Mom also marched on Memorial Days, first as a trumpet player and later as a baton twirler. She taught me how to twirl a baton, a little silver metal one w/ white tips that had multi-colored tinsel-like streamers coming out of the ends. I think I got it for a birthday present when I was about eight. Mom would get out her baton that she twirled in the high school marching band to demonstrate how to hold it and do simple, one-handed twists and then spinning it like a propeller, one hand over the other. Standing on our front lawn, she always made it look so easy. Dropping the little silver baton on my toe never really hurt, but when I tried to twirl Mom's larger one, it would inevitably find my feet. Hers had a large ball on one end that was hard but w/ age had worn-through so that the metal end shown through. I'm lucky I still have all 10 toes as many times as I dropped that baton. That's probably why I was on the pom pon squad instead of a twirler!
She told me once about the first marching band contest that she went to w/ the band. She was so worried about missing the bus to get back home that she left her baton sitting on the sidewalk. Her parents were not very pleased in having to buy another one. Her telling me that story was probably why I became concerned about getting forgotten when being driven to the Presbyterian Church Camp on West Lake Okoboji, three hours from home. The night before I was to leave for camp, I had a nightmare that the woman who was driving me stopped at a restaurant and then left w/o me in the car. This was before cell phones, and I didn't even know how to make a long distance call at that point in my life. I know Mom comforted me after that nightmare saying Dotta, the woman driving me, wouldn't do that. I didn't really believer her, but I went anyway. It's rather ironic that I live near Lake Okoboji now, and today while we were in our boat on West Okoboji, we drove by the church camp. I went there two years as a camper and one year as a counselor. All three times had good and bad memories, one of these days I'm going to go back on-site to relive them.
Summer won't officially be here for about three more weeks, but Memorial Day always marks the beginning of the summer season of softball, mowing lawn, church camp, swimming, and carefree days. This was a memorable Memorial Day that evoked lots of memories.
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