Memorial

"Have a good Memorial Day!" my boss said as I left the flower shop today. "You too!" I instinctively yelped back. "Enjoy!"

Walking out back, I thought about the sign we had on the door. The shop will be closed on Monday, May 26 in observance of Memorial Day. We were closing the store to observe a day that commemorates fallen US troops. Our exchange though made it sound like the last day of school, that we'd be feasting with friends tomorrow at Waldameer picnic grounds and making best use of our group-discounted ride-o-ramas because wahoo, summer's here!

I felt like I cheapened the day and all it stands for by eagerly wishing her smorgasbords of hotdogs and hamburgers, fireworks with friends and family, and one less work day in the week. I felt I devalued the commemorative tone of the day by only focusing on hot eats and company.

I mean, I think we should feast with others, watch fireworks, and have time off to celebrate the occasion. I remember my godmother's funeral: we were asked to only wear bright colors. Anne-Marie showed a vivid slideshow of pictures at the church and reception. There was music, home videos, and lots of laughter. With hot eats and the finest company, we celebrated Mildred's life. We feasted and met together to memorialize an extravagant person. The whole time, we were reminded of her love; we kept reminding each other of it, even if we didn't mention Mildred's name in conversation. Simply, our being together honored who she was that day; the memorial was incredibly visible. Yes causal at times, but always, always noticeably present.

When I think about my Memorial Days, this kind of sweeping honor just isn't there. It's mostly about the food, someone to cuddle and watch fireworks with, and the free day off from work. So I guess I wonder about the point at which remembrance turns too inward, too much about my excitement to consume 3 hotdogs and a mound of potato salad just because the calendar says there's something to observe. "I don't have to feel guilty about overeating because that's what people do on holidays!...Uh, so what's this holiday for again?"

Via Facebook message, I got asked out on a date this weekend because "there's this awesome day called Memorial Day, and it gives me an extra day off." He wants to get Mexican food and sip sangria. I said no, my weekend's already full. Typical "Memorial" tasks—picnicking, fireworks with friends, and parades—had already clogged my schedule. With an exclamation point, I listed these in my response as to why this weekend wasn't good.

I think we both showed a loss of appreciation for or merely lack of acquaintance with the reason behind this awesome, extra day off. Why am I going to picnics, why am I going to watch fireworks with friends, why am I going to embarrass myself on the back of my dad's mid-life-crisis-soaked motor trike, and toss tootsie rolls out to Fairview kids? Why am I personally doing these things? To commemorate, or to drift indifferently, selfishly, through a holiday's acquired customs?

I'll be thinking more about my actions, interactions, and resultant in(di)gestion tomorrow. If you have any thoughts, related or entirely opposite qualms, let me know.