Decoration Day

And then it was the ninety-minute drive to Compton to visit the grave where my grandfather’s father was buried (his mother was also still alive living in East Peoria at the time). If I thought the drive from LaSalle to Spring Valley seemed like a hundred miles, the drive from Spring Valley to Compton must have felt like I was traveling across the United States. I guess everything seems longer, wider, bigger-definitely more exaggerated when you are a child-especially when you are in the backseat of a car traveling with your grandparents.

If we were on schedule, by time we got to the cemetery in Compton and repeated the same ritual that had been done earlier at the cemetery in Spring Valley, it was probably a little after noon and time to find a roadside picnic area. There were usually a few choice places my grandfather knew about after having been here in the past. Some of these places just had a couple of picnic tables; others were more elaborate affairs having restrooms and running water.

My grandfather would pick out the best table and then park as close as he could to it. We all had our tasks to do: my grandmother would spread out a tablecloth on the table and begin to remove items from the picnic basket while my grandfather attended to the beverages-opening up a can or two of beer as well as that bottle of soda for me. I usually helped by setting out the paper plates, napkins and plastic spoons and forks.

You know, food just seems to taste better when you are having a picnic and especially if you are a child and spending time with your grandparents. Those ham salad sandwiches (that my grandmother made by grounding up leftover ham with some relish) never tasted better and that cold fried chicken, while a little greasy, was quite tasty when chased with some deviled eggs and a swig of that soda.

Afterwards my grandfather would usually smoke a cigar while my grandmother packed up everything and put the basket back in the trunk. And then it was back on the road, but only a mile or two to stop at a tavern my grandparents always stopped at when they went to Compton. It would be one of two or three stops my grandparents would make before going back home.

That was also part of the Memorial Day tradition I suppose; stopping off in a bar to have a drink or two and chat with the locals or once back in LaSalle, neighbors and friends. Like I said, my grandparents liked to make a day out Memorial Day-from remembering loved ones, spending time with their grandson, and then before going home having a drink or two with friends.

Today, Americans take time out to remember those who gave the ultimate sacrifice for our country. Many of us will also take time out and remember our family members who are no longer with us but remain alive in our memories and our hearts.