I've been thinking about Memorial Days from my childhood: my mother and her sisters ravaging the peonies growing outside our dining room and kitchen windows and filling urns with them and flowers from her sisters' gardens on the day before. Then the Memorial Day parade down Main Street - my Uncle Paul was always on the American Legion float - followed by a long day at Woodside Cemetery where my mother and father, her sisters and their spouses decorated the graves of my grandparents and other deceased family members while my cousins, brothers and I were either in the way, bored out of our minds, or running wild among the graves.
It all seems another time, another life, and another world.
